#found him/her on the lawn this morning

[velvetmalice]

[moongreenlight]

Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that���s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Firsts

pairings - Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summary - Rafe was always there for your firsts.

warnings - drinking, drugs, language, fem receiving oral. (18+)

An/ I have other fics I should be finishing but this came to me this morning and I needed to write it!

Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron was your first everything.

First friend, first girl boy hug, first kiss, first touch, first time, you hadn’t expected him to be your first heartbreak though.

Having been friends with him the moment your eyes landed on the quiet boy who sat on the browning grass, staring out at the kids playing. You can still remember the slight scowl on his chubby little face, you took it upon yourself to be friends with him.

Surprisingly he wanted to be your friend just as much as you wanted to be his, from that moment on the two of you were inseparable. It helped that you moved in next door to him, your parents becoming fast friends.

Throwback to the ripe age of 18, the night he broke your heart. You weren’t together, you were just best friends. Best friends that shared each other's firsts and seconds and so on. Neither of you put a label on the love you shared.

You wished you had though, the moment your eyes landed on his hands laced through Rebecca Jones’s tiny delicate hand, you knew that was the end.

He didn’t greet you that night, didn’t pull you into his famous bone crushing hug or whisper about how annoying everyone was. Instead he ignored you, Rebecca and his friends followed behind him as though he was royalty.

He wore a frightening smirk on his face the whole night, shoved at JJ Maybank who was hired as wait staff along with a fair few other pogues. Made a scene and called them names, at one point his father even had to get involved.

You felt sick to your stomach at the sight of the man in front of you, no longer the person you wanted to share your firsts with.

Fast forward to 21, you haven't spoken to him in three years. You couldn’t deny you missed him deeply, his picture still hung from the thin string lining your bedroom wall. But it was only one photo compared to the 300 you had tucked under your bed along with other memories.

It was your birthday, your eyes skimmed the people in the garden setting up for your party. Your eyes shooting to the silk black dress that hung in the doorway of your ensuite, darting your eyes back over the lawn and up at the tall house beside yours.

Your eyes search for a glimpse of Rafe but no life was found in the windows or the balcony. Letting out a soft sigh, you pushed yourself to stand. You didn’t have much time to get ready, your friends would be here soon and would want to start drinking the moment they stepped into your room.

45 minutes later you found yourself on the back porch, nursing a pornstar martini that your friend Elle had made. People had started to arrive and the sun had begun to set, your eyes searching through the sea of people for Rafe. You knew he wouldn’t show, even though at the age of 12 he promised to throw you the biggest 21st, just like the people on tv.

“Hey!”

You jumped slightly in your seat at the brazen voice, eyes landing on your friends who stared at you with worry. “What?” You questioned, grabbing a napkin you dabbed at the liquid that ran down your chest.

“I said, Barry is waiting for you by the side gate”.

All you do is nod and stand, Elle passes you the envelope of cash and keeps her eyes on the people around her. Tucking the folded up envelope in your bra, you make your way to the side of the house.

The music is loud and everyone is having a good time, your parents have gone out for the weekend to give you some space. Your friends had decided they wanted to buy something stronger than weed but were too scared of Barry to organize it themselves, but you apparently had no fear these days.

“Princess”

You knew you made a mistake instantly, Barry lent against the fence in a wife beater and ratty shorts. Smoke surrounded his face, stepping out of the dark he stopped in front of you.

You stood at the same height as him, if you had opted for heels you would have towered over him. “That dress looks good on you”.

“Here’s your money”

He cocked his head and kissed his teeth, eyes roaming your body unashamedly. You take a step back but he’s quick to step forward, gripping your wrist that held the envelope. “How about I give you something that’ll blow your mind but you pay a different way”

You shook your head instantly, you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, the way his eyes darkened at the sight of you. “No I don’t think so… take the cash”

A throaty laugh escapes his lips and he tugs you towards him, your palm smacks his chest to keep you from falling into him further. You can smell the cigarette on his breath, scrunching your nose up when his lips ghost your cheek. “How about you get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use”.

You tug on your wrist but his grip tightens, slipping his tongue out to wet his lips. “I have the cash, please just take the cash”.

His palm meets your shoulder, he uses all his strength to push your body to the floor and your knees hit the gravel. “Barry” you grit, your clenched fist meets his stomach and he doubles over in pain. “You bitch!”.

He coughs loudly and the little baggie falls to the floor, you're quick to grab it and jump up, throwing the envelope to his feet you step back but meet a hard wall. “Do we have a problem?”

All words that sat on the tip of your tongue vanished at the sight of Rafe, his eyes are hard and pointed at Barry. “I have the cash to pay him” your voice is just above a whisper, the skin of your bicep tingles at the feeling of Rafe’s fingers gripping tightly. “I don’t want the cash.. I want her on her knees” Barry growls, he stands up straight and steps towards you again. Pressing your back firmly against Rafe’s chest, he’s quick to pull you behind him. “She’s with me Barry”

“Oh shit man… I didn’t know she was yours!”

“She’s mine”

The goosebumps are back and butterflies swarm your belly, you zone out for what feels like a second but when you come back down to reality, Rafe is ushering you away from the scene, eyes cocking to see Barry hopping on his bike and the envelope you had for him inside his back pocket.

“I didn’t need your help”

You're not sure why you even said that, of course you needed help. There was no way you were leaving with anything unless you sucked Barry off. Rafe ignores you, pushing you forward by your lower back until you're back with your friends. Your fingers tighten around the baggie, hiding it from Rafe’s eyes.

You didn’t care that he knew you were buying drugs, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him snort lines at every party. It just felt strange, your first time doing something harder then weed wasn’t with him.

All your friends' eyes are on the two of you, mouths opened in shock. Before anyone can say anything he’s walking away, slipping into the crowd of people and disappearing. “What just happened?”

“Let’s get high”

The four of you lock yourself in the bathroom, opening the small baggie you pour the contents into your palm. “Did he say what it was?”

You shook your head, placing a small pill on the tip of your tongue. Each of their eyes watch as you swallow, holding out your palm for them to grab.

“I’m scared… I feel like we shouldn’t trust what he gives us”

“It’s fine, if it had been anything bad he would have told Rafe.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do Elle.. take the damn pill”

Each of them grab a pill and swallow, you put the rest back into the bag and hide it under the toilet sink inside your tampon box.

You're out the door before any of them can stop you, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bench and heading back outside. Your feet take you further into the party, looking for Rafe. You hadn’t expected him to show up, your parents made you invite him since it would have been rude to throw a party next door without inviting your oldest friend.

You spot Rafe instantly, sipping on a beer and leaning against a pole. Topper and Kelce stand beside him as the two of them chat, Rafe’s eyes meet you for a brief moment before turning away from you.

Anger bubbles in your chest, storming back through the party. The bottle of champagne now half empty by the time you make it to your bathroom, the anger fuels the stupidity in your brain.

Grabbing the pills from the tampon box you take another, wanting the effects of the drug to hit you faster. But by the time you’ve taken the last step of the patio you're swaying, throwing your arms out to brace yourself. “Shit” you laugh, the empty bottle of champagne hitting the grass with a thud.

“Come dance!” Elle shouted, her tiny arms waving above her head. With wobbly legs you make your way to your friends, dancing wildly with them until a hot body comes up behind you and circles their arm around your waist, pressing you firmly to their crotch. “Hey”

You let the person dance against you, hands wandering your thighs and your stomach. The fingers of the stranger behind you brushes the underneath of your breasts before groping a handful, your mouth parts just a tiny bit and your ass presses firmer against him.

“What the fuck?”

Spinning on the spot at the loss of warmth behind you, the guy who had been dancing with you was on the floor. Rafe towered over you once again, his fingers grip your bicep and he’s pulling you away from the party. You notice no one watches the two of you, music drowning out any chatter around them.

“Rafe! What the hell is your problem!” You growl, wriggling in his grip only causing further pain to your arm. You give up rather quickly and let him drag you back into the house, pushing you through the door of the downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You press up against the bathroom sink and cross your arms, your eyes drift up and down his body. You can hear the harsh breaths Rafe was letting out, his forehead creased in anger. “I haven’t spoken to you in 3 years… you can’t just show up and manhandle me”.

His eyes meet yours finally and he takes a step closer, not close enough for you to touch him though. His cologne invades your nostrils and your cheeks heat from the memories of his hands on your body. “If you're not going to talk I’m leaving… it’s my birthday”.

His eyes finally drop from your eyes and he takes in your body, starting at your sneakers, drinking in the sight of your slender long legs, stopping for a tad longer on your breasts and then back up to your eyes.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ear, Goosebumps litter your skin and you have to brace yourself against the vanity table, legs wobbling from his gaze. “Happy birthday”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders relax at the sound of his voice. A voice you hadn’t heard up close in so long, a voice you dreamt about every night. “Thanks”.

The both of you are silent again, the sound of the party behind the door grows louder as the drugs start to lose their effect. “You look nice”

“Thanks”

He takes a step closer again, the toes of his shoes meet yours. The two of you look down briefly and then back at each other, you can smell the scotch on his breath, it's intoxicating.

“Rafe” your fingers touch his bicep softly, electricity flows through the tips of your fingers all the way to your heart. “I’ve missed you” he whispers seconds before his lips are on yours, all the memories you share together hit you like a tidal wave. Your knees buckle but he’s quick to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

“Missed you so much” he grunts, lips peppering kisses against yours. Down your jaw until they meet the base of your throat and he sucks hard, a soft whine escapes your parted lips. “Fuck”.

He grips your hips and drops you on the vanity table, pushing himself between your parted thighs, the heels of your shoes press firmly against his backside, pulling him closer to you. “You taste so fucking good”.

“Fuck Rafe… just like that” you whine, his hips roll against yours. His fingers grope and massage the skin of your thigh, pushing up the length of your dress to expose your nude thong. Your arousal soaks the front of your panties, your knees try to lock together in embarrassment but his thick frame holds them out. “I still make you as wet as I did 3 years ago” he groans, with one swift movement he’s ripped them at the crotch. Your pretty wet pussy exposed to his hungry eyes, his large hands tug you closer to the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees in front of you.

The sight has you clenching around nothing, arousal weeping from your needy hole. He places your feet on his shoulders and situates himself between your thighs. “Be a good girl for me y/n… let me eat your pussy for your birthday”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod frantically, the tip of his nose brushes your delicate clit. Your hips jut up to his face, a wicked smile paints itself on his lips. His tongue drops out slowly, the sight of the wet muscle has you whining. “Happy birthday sweetheart”

His hot tongue glides between your folds, your head falling back against the mirror in pure delight. “Oh fuck” you cried, pressing the balls of your feet into his shoulders. His hands grip the outside of your thighs, pulling your legs further apart until he can see your cunt in all its glory, glistening from your arousal. He could see your inner muscles clenching at the sight of him watching you. “Please Rafe” you begged, his lips dropped back to your pussy. Sucking and licking your overly sensitive nub, two of his fingers slip between your opening. Your back arching as he tapped at your g spot, you're sure you can see stars as he works himself on your pussy. “Sweet Jesus… Rafe! Yes yes yes”

The grunt of his approval vibrates against your clit, grinding your hips into his face. Your arousal coats his lower half, nose red from pressing himself so deep into your cunt. “I’m close! Rafe… right there! Holy shittt” your screams can be heard outside the bathroom door, the grip on your thighs are tight as he holds you close to him. You ride out your high, a thin layer sweat coats your chest and forehead. The back of your head hurts from the brutal force of you pushing against the mirror to steady yourself, you watch in silence as Rafe pulls away from you. Just as you open your mouth there are loud bangs on the bathroom door.

“Rafe! Man! Rafe quick Rebecca is outside looking for you!”

He’s out the door in seconds, leaving you alone and feeling dirty. Pressing your thighs closed you let out a silent sob, tears stream your face as you clean yourself up and throw away the ripped panties.

You take a few moments to calm down and slap some sense into yourself, you should have known Rafe was still seeing her. You should have told him to leave the moment he turned up, he was the Rafe you knew.

You exit the bathroom quietly and rush back downstairs in search of a drink, grabbing ahold of the tequila bottle.

As you step onto the patio, your friends quickly greet you. Your eyes stay on Rafe though, ignoring the chatter behind you, your eyes fall to the hand of Rebecca’s, it lay upon his chest in a gesture of adoration. A beautiful diamond placed upon her ring finger, the butterflies in your belly all but die. The beating of your heart is the only thing you hear, he notices where your eyes have landed and he is quick to place his much bigger hand over hers, hiding the beautiful ring from your vision.

He’s engaged.

Rafe Cameron got engaged.

Rafe Cameron had his first engagement and it wasn’t with you…

“Come on let’s go dance” Elle says, noticing the way both you and Rafe stare at each other. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment when Rebecca reaches up to kiss his cheek, bringing the bottle of tequila to your lips. The alcohol burns your throat in the most satisfying way.

Your eyes open to catch the worry that finds its way onto his features as he watches you throw back way too much alcohol for your small body.

“Let’s get fuck up” you exclaim, walking away from your friends and towards the bar your parents had hired for the night.

“4 shots please… actually nah, just give me that bottle of whiskey”.

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[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[2.7K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #3

You didn’t have to wait seven whole days to see Steve again, and when you did, it wasn’t poolside.

This meant that between you both, there were a lot more clothes than normal, but you found out the hard way that that fact didn’t really make a difference to the effect he now had on you. There was a party at some rich kids house on the outskirts of town, someone called Sam that neither you nor Eddie knew all that well but Robin used to work with him at the Shake Shack and well-- if Robin was going somewhere, Steve followed, and if Steve was allowed through the door, that meant Eddie had a ticket in too.

If Eddie was there? High chance you were too.

It’s how you ended up in a neighbourhood that rivalled even Steve’s, each house sprawled out across green manicured lawns and the pools out the back were almost as large as the one you were learning in, a shiny red slide to boot. Three stories, arched windows, a winding driveway to a three door garage and when you entered behind Eddie, the crystal chandelier in the foyer was vibrating to the beat of the music.

Two guys you recognised from the trailer park grabbed Eddie as he pushed his way through the crowd, your fingers hooked in his as he dragged you behind him. They were ready with cash, bills rolled up and an eagerly impatient look in their already glassy eyes, so you waved the boy away and headed to the kitchen, a safe enough sanctuary as you skirted around the makeshift dance floor that had been created in the living room. It seemed that anyone over seventeen and anyone under thirty was at the party, the large space full to the brim with drunken strangers, people moving to the synths of INXS.

The pushed back furniture made it difficult to move around the gyrating bodies, Sam’s parent’s cream coloured carpet already stained and sticky with questionable substances. The lights had been switched off and someone had strung multicoloured Christmas lights around the curtain poles, around the second chandelier above the coffee table. There was a broken disco ball sitting in a wall sconce, pink and green and blue hitting off each mirrored tile, making everything glitter.

You saw Steve before you could make it to the kitchen, rainbows on his cheeks, a stripe of colours across his lips. He was talking to a girl - a pretty redhead who had a drink in one hand and Steve’s bicep in another. The sight of him made you feel as warm as a saturday morning, as if you were walking into water with his naked chest in front of you, his pink cheeks and sleep mussed hair just for your eyes only. It felt almost unfair to see him now, surrounded by others, touched by someone else. He looked just as pretty with a striped shirt on, his hair styled and curling around his ears and neck, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket as the other gripped a beer.

His gaze caught your own, a fleeting thing before recognition clicked at the sight of you and then Steve was moving, the redhead’s fingers catching at his sleeve before he was in front of you, her frown behind him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Steve was smiling, eyes drinking in the corners like he was genuinely happy to bump into you. He craned his neck and spotted Eddie, raising his beer in greeting. “You want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled back, heart in your throat because Steve was placing a familiar hand on the small of your back in order to steer you into the kitchen and Eddie was grinning, a full beam that made your cheeks warm. “A drink sounds good.”

You let Steve pour you a vodka and lemonade, and he fumbled an ice tray he found in the back of the freezer, the fizz spilling over the rim of the glass as he handed it to you with a grin. You watched him lick the soda from his fingers, his eyes on yours as he smiled still, his cheeks a little pink and it felt like you were back in middle school and the pretty, popular boy was giving you too much attention.

You weren’t sure why, but you lapped it up happily.

Taking a gulp, you hummed, happy that your drink didn’t burn on the way down and Steve stayed close, his hand gone from the small of your back but his shoulder bumped yours and you could smell his cologne, leftover sunscreen and hairspray.

“You ready for lesson three tomorrow or are you planning on getting black out?” Steve asked with raised brows. “I gotta tell you now, legally, I’m not covered for drownings due to hangovers.”

You rolled your eyes, lips lifting into a smile you tried to suppress because you had absolutely no intention of getting messy drunk in the vicinity of Steve Harrington, with or without the threat of swimming the day after.

“It depends,” you joked anyway, “what does lesson three include?”

Steve smirked, leaning close, hair falling across his forehead and you could see the freckles over his nose, the glint of the chain he wore flashing under the collar of his t-shirt. “M’not sure I should tell you now.” He was all charm, a cheekiness you normally didn’t get to see up close. “You might stand me up.”

You scoffed, a dismissive sound that barely covered your embarrassment because you were sure that your eyes were wide enough to show off how flustered you were. You took another long sip, lemonade and bubbles coating your tongue and you watched Steve stare at the way you licked the vodka from your lips.

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” you murmured, barely heard over the thud of the music.

The boy beamed, ecstatic. “You wouldn’t?”

“Not unless you were planning something drastic, you know, like swimming.”

A laugh burst from Steve’s chest, his eyes shining with an amusement you were proud of producing. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, spreading his feet wide enough that you were able to stand between them. Not too close, not too suggestive, just close enough to each other that girls glared at you and no one tried to interrupt.

“Swimming? In a pool?” Steve cocked his head to the side, one hand nursing his beer, the other reaching out to poke at your side. You squirmed, amazed at how such a friendly touch seemed just as intimate as his hands on your bare back, keeping you afloat. He frowned at you, all faux confusion that made him look unbearably cute. “Who the fuck would think of that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to stop smiling. Come to think of it, your cheeks ached a little, your grin permanently etched onto your lips since you saw Steve, whether it was from being flustered or amused. Your cheeks felt hot, your chest light and you barely noticed anyone else in the room.

It’s why you jumped when two hands caught your shoulders, a diabolical cackle in your ear as you recognised the scent of smoke and old spice a little too late. Eddie smelled like childhood and home but now, standing in a strangers kitchen with Steve Harrington, you couldn’t have been less impressed with your friend’s appearance.

“Hey, there’s a good chance I can shift the last of this green if I hit up this party on Maple Street,” Eddie half yelled over the music, his arm draped over your shoulder in a too familiar way. You wanted to elbow him. “You comin’ with or—?”

He was glancing at Steve over your head, brows raised, suggestive and waiting on an answer from him rather than you. You swallowed hard, noticing how Steve had seemed just as disappointed as you at Eddie’s arrival but he shrugged, nonchalant. “I could walk you home later,” the beer in his hand glinted in the low light, his fingers tightening around it. He smiled, eyes soft, “I don’t mind.”

You wanted to say yes. Fuck, you wanted to say yes so bad and the word was costing your tongue, buzzing and excited, a fizzy candy explosion. But you took too long to look at the boy, tanned skin and messy hair, scruff on his jaw that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, the freckles on his cheeks and neck that made you want to touch them.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed a boy, never mind one you really liked. And perhaps that wasn’t even on the cards, maybe Steve didn’t like you in that way at all - but the idea of being alone in the darkened room with strangers, people you didn’t know and people who wouldn’t care if you fell into each other - it suddenly seemed a little too much for one night.

“Um, it’s— it’s okay,” you told him regretfully. You hated the way his eyes seemed to lose a little warmth, his lips turning down before he righted himself. “I should probably just go with Eddie.”

“Pussy,” Eddie coughed, barely concealed and Steve stared at the ground, cheeks pink.

You really did elbow your friend then, the sharp point of your arm finding his rims and he kicked at the back of your heel, childlike in the way he scuffled to get you back in a way that really wasn’t subtle.

“Thank you, though,” you smiled at Steve, hopeful that he’d return the gesture. He did, although not as warm as before, not as confident as he’d been as he’d guided you to the kitchen with a wide hand on your back. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, right?”

Steve sank the last of his drink, licking it from his lips before nodding. He was already back out of the kitchen and you tried not to look defeated. “Yeah, ‘course,” he told you. “See you in the morning.”

“Well,” Eddie watched Steve retreat, his hand slapping down on your slumped shoulder. “You fucked that, didn’t you?”

Steve was already in the pool when you arrived the next morning, still sleep mussed and frazzled from the way your alarm had blared too loud. Despite three weeks of early mornings, it was still a struggle to pull yourself from bed. But the promise of a warm day, pink-blue skies and Steve Harrington made it so much easier than you ever thought.

You paused at the loungers for longer than you needed, your toes curling at the thought of stripping off your shorts and shirt because the swimsuit underneath was newer and skimpier and cherry red. Steve was underwater, swimming effortlessly beneath the surface from the shallows to the depths you weren’t brave to venture to yet.

So you took the opportunity to pull off your t-shirt, a ratty old thing that used to be Eddie's and you cursed picking it up from your floor, hoping Steve wouldn’t get the wrong idea despite how many times you’d told him that Eddie was just your friend.

You let it fall to the sun warmed tiles just as Steve broke the surface, pushing his hair back with one hand as he grasped the edge of the pool with the other. He grinned when he saw you, a familiar and friendly thing that made your heart jump but his gaze darted to your chest, just for a second, just for a tiny moment, and you remembered to feel shy.

“New suit?” Steve asked, sounding casual, his brows raised as if it didn’t really matter what the answer was.

You wondered what he’d say if you told him you’d bought it with him in mind, what he’d say if he knew you’d stared at your half naked frame in your bedroom mirror for far too long, inspecting each curve, each bruise, all the old silver scars and stretch marks, stripes along your thighs that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. This suit dipped low in the back, as modest as it still was in the chest. Would he think your boobs were too small? Too big? Too flat? Uneven? Could he tell?

Would it matter?

It was a vibrant colour against your skin, the same red as the cherries you’d scooped in your smoothie before you’d left, a shade off of Steve’s lifeguard shorts. It seemed too bright now, too silly, but you nodded regardless and tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Steve leant on the pool edge, chin resting on his tanned forearms, water dripping from his wet hair, clinging to his too long lashes. He tilted his head, appraising, gaze gentle, never staring. “S’nice. Colour looks good on you.”

His words made it a lot easier for you to unbutton your shorts and slip the denim over your hips. Chin ducked, you couldn’t hold eye contact, not bold enough quite yet. But you let the shorts drop from your thighs, hitting the tiles and you kicked them under the sun lounger as you flicked off your sliders at the same time. The sun was already blazing, rising higher in the sky, turning the tangerine edges into a warm blue and the heat of it slipped over your skin like a blanket.

Feeling a little less naked than before, you walked to the shallows, Steve swimming the length of the pool to meet you. You stopped just shy of the stairs, lips pressed together and brow furrowed, contemplating. Steve stopped too, watchful as you considered your next move the boy positively beamed when you dropped down to sit at the edge of the water.

The surface lapped at Steve waist when he stood, not too deep but certainly not the gentle entrance you’d become accustomed to. You cringed as you slipped both feet into the cool water, hands curling around the edge of the pool until your knuckles burned.

“Yeah?” Steve coaxed, sounding impressed. Proud. “You’ve got it. You can just slide right in, you’ll touch the bottom.”

You knew you would. The logic was in front of you, just like the bottom of the pool was very much visible. Looking down, you could see Steve’s feet on the tiles, rippling into funny shapes and sizes, his bare legs, just as tanned as the rest of him and dusted with coarse hair. He was planted there firmly, no current or waves to knock him over, steady as ever.

He lay his hands on the top of the water, palms up. His gaze met your own, his smile warmer than the morning. “I’m right here.”

It was comforting, his words, his closeness, even if you didn’t take his hands, he kept them there, waiting. It was enough for you to lean forward, bum slipping off of the warm tiled edge and into the cool water. You gasped as always from the shock of the temperature difference, the water rippling around the tops of your ribs and it was enough to make your nipples pebble, glaringly obvious under the new, thinner material of your suit.

If Steve noticed, he didn’t dare look down.

He did take a step forward though, enough for his toes to touch yours and you could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose, could see the chlorine water that still made his lashes cling together in spikes. It was intimate enough to make you wonder if something like this would’ve happened the night before if you’d stayed. If you had let Eddie and the boy shaped comfort blanket that he was go, if you’d hung back with Steve and shared secrets and drinks under the multicoloured lights, if you’d let him walk you home under the glow of street lamps.

If he would’ve kissed you at your front door.

But then the gate clanked noisily against the chain link fence and there was a splash big enough to soak your chest and the side of your face - Steve’s too - both screwed up in shock.

Eddie appeared from the water - the deeper, indigo coloured end - shaking his sopping curls like a wet, disobedient dog, his tattooed chest bare and much paler than Steve’s. He grinned through his curls, oblivious to whatever he’d just interrupted, his arms spread wide.

“What’s up, fuckers?”

[unmarlou]

time to pretend.

pairings. slytherins x fem!reader

summary. a typical day at the summer house.

lacy says. saltburn inspo but no bath water :/ this is bad lol purely for the aesthetic.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

"oi!"

the morning sun was beaming down stronger than yesterday. your sunglasses weren't even enough to keep you from squinting, though the book in your hands did good job if held at the right angle. and had it not been for the towel between, your skin would've been sticking to the lawn chair.

"morning blaise..." pansy said dreamily at your right. she was still half asleep.

you looked over your shoulder and saw blaise approaching, draco in tow. "didn't even bother to tell us you were out here, i see."

"we wanted you to get your beauty sleep, darling. nice swim trunks." they had tiny hula girls on them.

"i am a man of fashion." he plopped himself at the chair to your left, adjusting his shorts and sunglasses. he flashed a smile - a pretty one that only he could own and flaunt regardless the time of day. he quickly nudged your leg and pointed to draco, who sat at pansy's feet.

he was covered in noticeable amounts of sunscreen, head to toe. not only with a look of distain on his face but his slouch conveyed a message just fine on its own.

involuntarily a snort escaped, followed by stifled laughs.

"oh shut up."

even pansy, who was curled on her side away from everyone, sticking her hand out to some small animal, laughed, "we're only admiring you.”

all he could do was roll his eyes.

"stolen my chair then, have you?"

everyone’s attention turned to the voice, only to see enzo, also in his bathing suit, holding a platter of fruit. he almost looked like the cover of a magazine your mother wouldn't let you buy.

glancing over the back of the chair you could see mattheo and theodore walking in the field, talking lazily, probably sharing their first hellos of the day.

lorenzo placed the silver plate down on the small table between the chairs. you had asked him to bring something to eat expecting a piece of toast, though with him, you should've known better.

"well we can share, you know?"

"thank you, enzo."

he gave you a quick nod and wink, his way of saying no problem, never wanting to make a big deal out of gestures he found to be the minimum in his friendships.

"want me to sit on your lap then, blaise?"

draco rang on your left, "past a strawberry… please."

your arm extended to him, presenting three instead of just one. he cracked a reluctant smile, always surprised at how well you all knew him, never letting him stay miserable for long, "thanks."

a new shadow appeared on the ground in front of you causing you to peer up and greet theodore, "fruit?"

he shook his head, eyes still puffy and barely open, indicating he had just awoken. he stretched and rested his hands on either side of yours and pansy's chairs. bringing his forehead down to his left hand, he seemed to be taking a chance at sleep again.

"theo's had a rough morning."

you turned again and almost cackled at the sight of lorenzo sitting in blaise's lap, and mattheo sitting in lorenzo's. you could've sworn you saw the chair slightly give way under their weight.

pansy teased, "but an excellent night, isn't that right, teddy?"

he groaned loudly. drinking was never his strong-suit. he could roll and smoke all day, even on his worst, but going shot-for-shot was something he did only when feeling the most audacious. and something he always came to regret.

he shuffled his way to the small dock at the pond in front of you. eyes still closed, he laid down on the edge, his arm hanging over and into the water.

"hangover so bad he had to reconnect with nature."

“we’ve all been there.”

you smiled idly. placing the book on your stomach, not even considering an odd tan line. tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

a breeze blew, giving your skin a break from the exhausting heat it was under. you could feel the full trees above sway, and hear the water of the pond move with theodore’s helping hand. the low indistinct chatter of your friends simply background noise to remind you you weren’t alone in this oasis.

most mornings were like this. easy and quiet, any and all problems excluded from this place, this bubble of a world you had. if ever asked what moment you wished you could relive again and again, it would always be this.

-

the large, wall lining, arched windows of the left wing hallway made it the sunniest place in the house at this time of day. and the cold tile felt nice under your concrete-burnt feet.

the windows were wide open, allowing the plants and hung-dry linens of the courtyard to creep in and fill the corridor with a scent that could make one nostalgic for a place and time they’ve never even been.

your steps were the only sound until they multiplied. by the cadence of the walk, you knew who it was.

“theodore feeling any better?”

“loads,” in the corner of your eye you could see him pull a cigarette out and spark a light, he took a long drag before continuing, “gave him one of my cures.”

you shuddered, twisting your face. mattheo had an affinity for putting ingredients in a pot, mixing it up, and saying it would fix any and all problems. sometimes you thought even he didn’t believe his own words, he just liked seeing your face contort in disgust. “let me know when his tail starts growing.”

entering the room at the end of the hall, the sound of the shower running became clear. the french doors of the back wall were open, allowing air to flow freely.

you spun on your heel and allowed yourself to fall onto the four-poster, now staring at the charm displayed up on the canopy. one you recognized, as all your parents used to do it when you were children; a depiction of the night sky, to lull you to sleep and wish you sweet dreams.

mattheo was on his stomach next to you, carefully tapping ashes off the side of the bed. in the lighting of the room you could see how summer had be treating him, skin tanned by the sun, while his hair only got lighter. he tapped your arm for your attention, and pointed to the bathroom, furrowing his brows.

“pansy.” you answered.

an oh formed on his face.

the sound of wind chimes rang in the distance, accompanied by tree leaves brushing against each other, and birds singing softly. there were actually a few birds gathered at the small balcony just outside the french doors. they always seemed to gravitate towards pansy, all the beauty in life resided to her.

“i wonder what snape is doing right about now.”

you groaned, putting your hands over your face, trying to hide from the imagine of your professor in your mind, “don’t mention him, his energy will invade the space.”

“say his name three times and he’ll appear, you know!” pansy’s shouting voice carried into the room. there was actually no need for her to, you could hear her perfectly fine seeing as the bathroom door was wide open; she hated having it closed, never wanting to be separated from the rest of world for too long.

you shouted back, “says she who flirts with him for a higher grade!”

“it’ll work one day, just you wait!”

this was true, she was absolutely convinced she could charm her way to at least Exceeds Expectations. not that anything had given her an indication it had worked in the past. or ever.

mattheo sat up, almost choking on his laugh, “just do what enzo does, pretend your best friends with him.”

the shower turned off, followed by long rustled movement before she walked out. she held a stark white towel to her body, water droplets coming off her hair and onto her freckled collarbones. “does it work?”

he ran a hand through his hair while reaching to put his cig out on the bedside ashtray, “ ‘course not. but easier to watch and keep the lunch down than your attempts.”

she made a face before opening one of the dresser drawers next to her and chucking a pair of balled-up socks at him.

suddenly the door bursted open, presenting blaise and lorenzo. they wore cheesy smiles and had their arms extended out beside themselves, “OUR DINNER OUTFITS!”

both were still wearing their swim trunks from earlier in the day, yet this time accompanied by suit jackets, ties, - that certainly did not match and they definitely dug up from the attic - dress shoes, and jewelry to go with. theo ran up behind and wrapped a boa around blaise’s neck.

“no fair! i want one!”

“there’s a whole lot more in the boxes we found, hurry up and we’ll get you one.”

“didn’t think to include me, then?”

“those have to be at least 60 years old.”

“jesus enz, what kinda parties did your dad used to throw?”

he flopped on the bed, a dust cloud emerging from the jacket, causing you to cough and wave your hand through the air. “no clue,” he leaned closer to you, showing his wrist, “but look at this fancy watch i found.”

it looked as old as time.

“no doubt you’re sweating enough for all of us in those?” draco leaned on the doorframe.

“would be unnatural if we weren’t.”

pansy walked to the armoire, and shuffled her hanging clothes along until she found what she was looking for: a silk black dress. she picked the hanger off the rack and walked it over the french doors, putting on the doorframe. she turned to everyone’s eyes on her and shrugged, “might as well.”

-

playing dress up was always fun, especially when all the glamour was real. watches and diamonds, boas and silks.

the dining hall was lit, wall to expansive wall with candles. the curtains up high drawn back, displaying the rising moon. the long table in the center was decorated with the most gorgeous grand arrangement.

the house elves had absolutely outdone themselves, platters of food spanning each end of the table. and though you didn’t see much of them, you made a mental note to seek at least one out and thank them.

after more digging around and even a trip to the attic, which made you consider taking a second shower of the day, you had found the best box of all; charles berkshire’s record collection. bowie, zeppelin, beatles, queen - it was a 60s/70s wet dream. so for the first time in what must’ve been years, the gramophone record player of the dining hall was to be put to use.

with everyone now standing at their respective seats, prosecco was to be poured.

mattheo, who sat on the right head of the table, was the one to open it; he always was. his naturally mischievous smile was one to be admired, especially when each of you wore the same one. with a big POP! he went around and filled everyone’s flutes - although you all cheered, the night hadn’t started just yet.

each with your drinks, lorenzo danced over to the record player and placed the needle down. a night at the opera began. he slowly turned to face you all once again, raising his glass and walking back to his seat, the left head of the table. all other glasses were then raised high, and his role as host was to be fulfilled, “live forever!”

“live forever!” you chorused, arms extending closer to each other before cheers erupted once again, louder this time, accompanying the crescendo of death on two legs. cups were brought to mouths, and taking your first sip you could’ve sworn you recognized that phrase, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, but couldn’t seem to place it.

pulling chairs forward, everyone was sat. looking around, under the immense candle light their faces had a new glow, one that filled you with an unexplainable excitement. the night had begun.

the feast was lovely, you all agreed it must’ve been the best you’d ever had. though you could’ve just been drunk and hungry.

“this is the best food i’ve ever tasted.”

“best.” emphasized lorenzo.

mattheo covered his mouth, still chewing, “never been better.”

this conversation happened multiple times since you had started eating. each time blaise ended it by saying, “god we sound like our parents.”

the room smelled like the extravagant parties back home, the boys smoking their macanudo’s - inspirado black’s, they swore by - leaving strong cigar smoke lingering above you. pansy had drank enough to pull out her cigarettes, and one was passed around the table. your glass was bottomless, literally, allowing your feeling of weightlessness to continue.

the conversations around were indecipherable, you just sat picking at whatever food was left on your plate, intent on listening to the music in the background. the record player was enchanted, never needing for someone to get up and change the record; once the needle was down, and an album was over, a new one would take its place.

you took another sip of whatever it was in your glass, listening to the end of some song, what was going to play next didn’t even cross your mind until the beginning chords of a new one rang out. standing up suddenly, causing your drink to slightly spill on the hard wood, you gasped, “this SONG.”

your arm immediately shot out to pansy, who looked up at you mid-drag and smiled. you couldn’t even remember what song it was or where you had heard it before but you knew it was imperative to give it its own moment. meeting each other halfway, arms waiting for the other person and giggling, your hands interlocked with hers.

dancing, spinning around, and laughing; you had never felt so blissfully unaware. or dizzy.

more bodies appeared around the two of you, but ones you knew well and invited with the most love one could feel for another person. blaise’s boa wrapped around him and draco as they danced and sang, theodore holding a bottle of champagne while mattheo bent lower to waterfall it, and enzo grabbing both yours and pansy’s hands to spin you simultaneously.

you weren’t sure who’s laugh was who’s, or what song was playing, who’s hand you were holding, or what drink was being poured, not like any of it mattered. once again you had entered a bubble, impenetrable from the outside world.

-

the library couch was the comfiest in the whole chateau. the fire had been crackling for some time, accompanied by lorenzo’s piano playing on the west wall. he was actually the best you’d ever heard, though he shyly kept his talent close to his chest - until the proper moments.

you watched the embers pop off the fire mindlessly, not thinking about anything in particular. a book sat in your lap but it had been forgotten long ago, your unfocused eyes unable to retain the words. they were however able to travel upwards to the painting on the mantle, for the first time you truly looked at it - it was a group of people, slightly older than yourself. you immediately recognized lorenzo’s father, although here he was more handsome, his son certainly took after him. searching farther you spotted a woman, and after some staring you deduced it was bellatrix, her cheekbones being the exact same as mattheo and enzo. she truly was beautiful, regardless of the sinister look she was giving through the paint. you couldn’t make out the others, though you noted a boy, who was definitely younger than the rest, with curls that fit his face well and a solemn expression that carried a worlds worth of weight.

mattheo and draco sat on the rug, silently playing chess. they had become more and more fond of muggle chess as the summer went on.

pansy was sprawled out on the lounge chair to your right, the spaghetti straps of her dress daring to slip off her shoulders. her eyes were closed as she hummed - incorrectly - to the piano. she hung her head over the edge, causing her bangs to fall off her face, and her now open green eyes found yours. your smiles matched each other.

blaise, who was seated next to you on the couch, had his legs resting on the ottoman. he was holding a letter from his mother that had arrived a couple days ago, just now finding the time to read it. theodore was in the opposing lounge chair, eating the chocolates that accompanied the letter. she had sent them just for him - his favorites from honeydukes he had sorely missed. he watched mattheo and draco’s game intently.

“play that last one again.” you had called out to enzo.

he scooted his chair and looked over his shoulder, “liebestraum no. 3?”

“sure.”

“you like liszt?”

you paused, turning to face him and furrowing your brows in obvious confusion, before replying to the best of your ability, “…i like you?”

he gave a smile that was only reserved for you. liebestraum no. 3 began again.

you slumped down on your side, your feet now hitting blaise’s clothed thigh, he gave a tap to your ankle, indicating recognition but not taking his eyes off the letter. with your ear now against the armrest, your breathing slowed.

you focused on every sound. the chess pieces gliding across the wood board followed by draco’s or mattheo’s huffs of concentration, the faraway wind chime carrying in through the open window, lorenzo playing that piece you had grown to love in the last few minutes, the pops of fire, pansy’s subtle soft humming, and the crinkle of the papers blaise held.

your eyes closed, whether voluntarily or not you weren’t sure, but you didn’t fight it. overwhelming comfort and content had taken you, warmth from all over allowing absolute relaxation.

-

“hey… hey, wake up.”

“y/n… y/n…”

the harsh nudge of your arm made you open your eyes. squinting up, you could make out blaise and theodore. you, unintentionally, matched their tone by whispering back to them, “what?”

“wake up, we’re going for a swim.” blaise flashed you the same smile from the morning, it was so genuine even your groggy mind thought of how you’d never know anyone else with one like that. theo had moved on to wake pansy.

draco’s voice came from behind the couch, “she awake?” before an answer came he peered over from above and your eyes met, “lovely. now get pans and let’s go.”

sitting up and looking around you finally realized why everything looked different - the fire had gone out. now the only light was the full moon shining through the windows. the room was coated in silver.

you rubbed your eyes harshly to adjust and looked over to see pansy doing the same, “what do you want again?” her voice was raspy and tired.

“swimming.” you answered, standing up with the help of blaise’s hand. once to your feet you realized you were still in your dinner attire, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. you stuck an arm out to her. grasping it and standing, she opened her eyes wide and blinked rapidly. her voice was abruptly normal again, “well c’mon then.”

the boys were close behind the two of you, exiting the library. the entire manor was the same coloring of silver and blue. any other place and you would’ve been creeped out and uneasy, but in this place with these people, you could never feel anything other than safe.

going your separate ways from them to change, you and pansy walked the corridors, chatting nonsensically.

entering your room, you undressed quickly, happy to get the confining dress clothes from what seemed like hours ago, off of your body. you picked a bathing suit from drawers, tossing one to pansy too, who couldn’t be bothered to go to her room. both of you helped the other tie their suit.

voices in the hall approached your door, before a series of knocks. you both called back, “yeah?”

draco’s head peered in cautiously, before noticing you both were clothed, then opening the door fully to reveal the others. he held his arm up, “we’ve got towels, come on.”

all the boys said some iteration of come on and let’s go, eager to get out. rushing, you both were handed towels. excited chatter overtook the group, voices echoing and bouncing off the expansive walls. lorenzo appeared suddenly from the back, running, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

this triggered a domino effect, everyone was now chasing each other down the halls. something in the back of your mind told you to look around, and when you did, it seemed as though childhood had come back. playing games and having races with the same people that ran beside you now. watching their faces as they passed you saw summers long gone, of late night swims and early sun-basking mornings, dress up dinners and quiet library lounging. you ran and ran and ran.

your bare feet hit the concrete of the patio before hitting the dewy grass. though night, it was still warm, humidity latched to your skin. you had joined hands with blaise, a silent agreement. the moonlight illuminated the pond, beckoning you to come forward. it was just a ways away.

lorenzo had made it first, his shout as he jumped in rattling everything in a 10 mile radius. for the rest of the summer he would go on to say that he had to have made the world record for largest splash.

mattheo was close behind, so close in fact you thought he might land on enzo’s head, though he resurfaced just in time to watch him jump in and moved out of the way.

you and blaise were next, hand-in-hand again, running off the dock, your screams silenced by the water. cold consumed your entire body for the first time in months. it was relieving to have your body soaked in something other than sunscreen or sweat. feeling the last of your friends enter after you, you opened your eyes and found them. swimming to each other, you grazed skin as if to say even in water, i’m right by your side. if you didn’t need air, you would’ve considered staying down there forever.

breaching the surface and taking a deep breath, you brushed all the hair out of your face. you looked around to find some with droplets combing through from their hair to their eyelashes, and others with water slicked-back hair. each was breathing as heavily as you, half from having to catch their breath, half from pure exhilaration.

water splashed from all directions, making you squint and do the same. you weren’t sure who was splashing you for the fun of it and who was splashing you because you had splashed them. yelps and laughs were echoing off the surrounding trees. the plants were drinking well tonight.

“let’s play chicken!” someone had shouted over all the noise. cheers of agreement erupted from the chorus and subsequently the excessive pushing of water was halted.

you had fond memories of chicken. it used to be the boys on the girls shoulders, back when they all were still shorter than pansy and you. but now they were taller and had built quidditch bodies. as much as you believed in yourself, you didn’t desire feeling a draco sized weight on your shoulders.

“girls versus boys!” you announced.

theo shrugged, “not much of a competition.”

blaise took him by the shoulder, “ay, beware of the black haired one, she likes to go for the eyes.”

it was decided you and pansy versus theodore and lorenzo. they were a great duo, the two of them were the beaters on the quidditch team. they surely knew how to work together.

theo stood behind enzo, waiting for him to dip underwater.

“oi try not to pull the hair, i’ve got a sensitive scalp.” enzo reached a hand up and combed the back his head. theo looked like he was going to say something, before just shaking his head and sighing, “m’sure i’ll manage.”

a countdown from three began, then hitting one, you and lorenzo went under. water engrossed your entirety once more. feeling pansys hand upon your shoulder for balance, then her leg, you held on. within less than a few seconds she was securely on and you rose. you took a big breath once again, pushing your hair out of your face. the boys were in sync with you.

almost immediately pansy and theo were at each others throats. their arms went up, interlocking, and their bodies casted a shadow on lorenzo and you. it was like a tiny pocket. shouts came from beside you; blaise, mattheo, and draco each yelling out what could’ve been tips but when shouting over each other it really just sounded like a bunch of nothing. you were pretty sure whatever they were saying was going to be unhelpful anyways.

between keeping your balance, trying to push enzo, and still treading, you were determined to win.

“ah! ow! STOP TRYING TO PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY EYES I CANT SEE!”

pansy clearly was as well.

it suddenly hit you who you were up against. this was lorenzo, the single most ticklish person you’d ever know. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it earlier. with a mischievous smile and lots of trust that pansy could remain on your moving shoulders, you reached to his bare stomach and began prodding at him.

just as you expected, he started to freak out. “hey! HEY!” he laughed between his shouts, “STOP- STOP THAT! NOT- FAIR!”

the boys on side were having a field day.

“ENZ!”

“I CANT-”

“DONT YOU DARE DROP ME.”

and with a strong push from pansy up top, and another prod to enzo’s side from you, both of their exclamation were stifled by gurgles of water.

pansy dived down, quickly coming up and hollering. cheers were shared all around, even from theo and enzo.

“let’s stick to quidditch.”

“agreed.”

in the midst of it all, you turned to face the house. it wasn’t foreign to any of you by any means, yet catching it in this moment you couldn’t help but feel amazed by its beauty. as if you were truly noticing it for the first time. it harbored your love within its stone. your love for this season, your love for this place, your love for these people. looking at the scene you saw your friends, you reached for them and they accepted, reaching for you. you heard their laughs, saw their smiles, and felt the same on yourself.

all in one breath you realized what lorenzo had said earlier was not just some toast; it was a definitive proclamation.

in this bubble of a world, you would live forever.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

[daisydaisybilly]

How about a request where Anthony is head over heels for the reader because of her motherly nature. First, he sees how she would play with Daphne’s son, and he just feels how great it’s like to be taken care of (like the reader would take care of him when he’s sick and help him with all the family duties) since all this time he took care of his siblings. The Bridgertons (and Simon) sees how in love Anthony is with the reader and they help with the proposal plan.

falling for ya | a.b

pairing: anthony bridgerton x gn!reader

warnings: none just fluff

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this has took me an embarrassing amount of time to get to but here it is! Anthony being an idiot in love

The season was over and you had been invited to the Bridgerton country home, Aubrey Hall. At this time in the year it was just the family and close friends. Eloise had invited her close friend, Penelope Featherington. Your invite had come from Benedict, you had met him at the Royal Academy of Art and became fast friends.

Of course you knew that his and your own families wished for an offer, your own mama was sure you’d come home with such news but it wouldn’t happen. He was a friend and nothing more. Besides, you were in love with his older brother.

Over the course of your friendship, you had also grown closer to the other Brigerton siblings, and their own children.

Small giggled laugher followed you, as you ran across the lawn, you turned seeing two small Bassett children running after you on small chubby legs, both holding small play swords. “You’ll never catch me” You declared, waving your own sword in the air.

The laughing increased, as they hit back.

You gave a cry of dismay and carried on running, over by the house, under the refreshment tent, the older siblings sat, the children were off begging Violet for something sweet.

“They’re quite good with them, don't you think?” Daphne asked the others, Simon gave an agreeable nod. Benedict and Colin were too busy in an argument over something unimportant, Eloise and Penelope were discussing the latest Lady Whistledown. 

Anthony though was watching with alarming personal interest, he had never seen you in this light before, you were Benedict’s art friend. Always off with him painting or looking at paintings or discussing paintings. 

Then he saw himself as a young boy, playing with his siblings when he carried the weight of everything on him. He had never blamed them for that, he loved his family with all his heart. But he couldn’t deny how he’d like to be taken care of for once. 

For the first time, he longed to fall ill, nothing series of course, just a head cold or something like that. Where you would sit by his bedside, reading to him and holding a cold cloth to his head. Maybe you’d sit by his bed and draw. 

Just this morning, very early in the morning, he had left the house to have a walk through the gardens and had found you sitting on the wet grass, in your dressing gown and slippers. Coloured pencil spread across the ground around you, on your lap the most beautiful sunrise he had ever seen. 

Anthony felt a blush spread across his neck. 

The day he had first met you, you had been a bundle of nerves. Meeting his family had been the easy part but the head of the household, meant moving up. He had made some comment or joke over dinner and  you laughed and laughed. 

And then there was that time, he had run into you in the park. 

With a cousin, the second you spotted him you beelined for him, leaving your poor cousin to tail behind.

Then at the last ball of the season, his mother had made him dance with you, he believed your mother did the same to you. The whole dance you played a game where he and you would guess what the other couples were discussing and the way you smiled when you had made him laugh.

By god he loved you, he, Anthony Bridgerton, he who swore he’d never love, had fallen in love with you. 

“I give in, I give in” you exhaled, dropping the sword, the children giggled, you picked up a glass of lemonade, “God they can run fast on those little legs”.

The others laughed, Simon seemed to straighten his back with pride, Daphne was looking at Anthony smirking. Someone at the house called your name, “Dear, a letter for you has just arrived”

“It will be from my mama” you roll your eyes, “Better hurry and write something back”. You left the group and thanked Violet. 

The second you had entered the house, Daphne grabbed her brother so fast he jumped, “You’re in love with them, aren’t you! I knew it”.

Anthony blushed harder, failing to speak, Colin and Benedict looked uninterested. Then Anthony realised he was the last to know. Each one of his siblings knew and  just didn’t care enough to tell him. 

After afternoon tea you had found the most puzzling note, attached to your door. Asking you to meet someone in the gardens. 

Across the grass was a blanket and two drawing pads, “Hello?” you called out. As you walked closer you found Anthony waiting, “Anthony?” you asked, kneeling to sit beside him, “What is this?”.

He smiled, handing you a pad and some pencils, “Let’s call it a private art lesson”.

“Why not ask your brother?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell him I said this but you’re the better artist”.

A warm feeling spread across your face and down your neck, you flipped open the pad, “Well draw something and we’ll see what needs work”. 

You looked up from your drawing, Anthony was frowning, the pencil working hard, it was sweet you had to admit.

“No no its…..” you gave up, you think he tried to draw a flower, “It’s a start” you smiled. 

“What did you draw?” he asked.

Damn

You hadn’t planned on showing him, you didn’t plan on showing everyone, but he was looking at you and waiting and it just felt rude not to. Slowly and feeling more heat all over, you turned the pad around. 

“Is that me?” he asked.

You closed the pad hard, “It means nothing.. You were there and- I” you couldn’t find the right words and felt more flushed as you went on. 

“It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful” 

Your mouth dropped open. 

“I know this may seem like it’s coming out of nowhere but I didn’t know how I felt until now. You see I have felt something for you ever since you laughed at my joke during the first dinner, and then today when I saw you playing with Daphens children it made me see things for how they really are”

Your mouth was still open, his words coming as a complete shock but not unwanted. He was everything you could want, he made you laugh, he talked with you with real interest not the half listening other men did, he was an amazing dancer and now this, trying to do something you loved.

His art was poor but still he had tried for this moment. 

He said your name and you swore your heart skipped. “I- I did not mean to overstep”

“Anthony” you smiled. 

He looked hopeful, “yes?”.

“I think I should be the one saying that” you said, unable to stop grinning. 

“Yes?”.

“Yes!” 

You leaped into his arms, he caught you right away. 

Without a second thought you kissed him, falling deeper into love with him. 

After the kiss and the ones that followed, you lay in his arms. “We’ll have to thank everyone, they helped set this up” Anthony said. 

“Benedict will call himself cupid until the end of time” you laughed. 

Anthony linked his hand with yours, “As long as I’m with you, I can face my brother”.

[kaiyaamin]

Can I request any headcanon or Oneshot of Batmom calling the Batfamily by their names? Batmom always calls them nicknames (sweetie, babybird or somenthing), so the Battys think she's upset.

Sorry if it's written wrong or it is not understood!! My main language is not English 😓😓

sure I would love to.

NICKNAMES

Early in the morning, Batmom lies there in her bed staring at the wall. At 6 in the morning, no one was awake except for the infamous Batman sitting next to her.

Honey, what's wrong why are you up? To Bruce, it was very unusual to see her up early for she had a habit of sleeping till 10 in the morning.

Nothing Bruce, and Batmom stood up from her bed and left to the bathroom.

SHIT, SHIT! what did I do?

that's all he could think because she NEVER called him Bruce unless she was upset at him. He thinks of all the things he had done the latest skipping a gala and lying to her about an emergency when he was really hanging out with Superman and Wonderwomen.

Batmom came out of the bathroom and left towards the kitchen. There Tim sat at the table with a huge cup of coffee in his hand. He expected a hi or hello but nothing just an awkward silence.

Hey Mom, but she grunted and said hi Tim.

OH MY GOSH, Tim was in complete panic, forgetting about his coffee. She always calls me Timmy, Fuck what did he do?

Finally, Dick comes and sees Tim in complete panic. What's wrong with you?

All Tim does is point. To Dick's shock, he points at his mother. Dick thought nothing of it and greeted his mom and gave her a hug like every morning. But to his surprise, His mom didn't greet him back nor return the hug.

Mama, are you okay? I am fine Dick

What where's my nickname. Dick looks at Tim and Tim just looks completely horrified. He sees his mom leave and goes back upstairs.

Alright, Tim fess up what did you do? said dick. Me this could have been easily you, Maybe Mom found out about you breaking her very expensive vase, Tim said defending himself. well, it's not like you are innocent, Mom probably found out that you're the one who's been finishing all her expensive French coffee, Dick said as a comeback.

Alright Dickhead, why is mom so angry? Jason comes walking behind him, I have no clue she's been acting strange all morning AND SHE DIDN'T CALL ME BY MY NICKNAME, Dick says wiping his tears.

jason says, huh same, she usually calls me Baby Bird but she just stood there staring at me. Maybe, Jason, she found out how you snook out to patrol even though you are grounded, Tim says. Jason says in response, probably... WAIT how did you know about that Tim. I Know everything... you have cameras around the house don't you Tim, Dick said. Maybe, Idk Tim said with an evil grin.

Okay, guys come on let's go upstairs and apologize to whatever we did, Dick said. Fine Dickh, Jason said but was interrupted... AHHHHHHHHH

what the hell! I think my eardrum exploded, said Tim

come on guys, someone could be in trouble, Dick said. Okay, dickhead calm down, Jason says.

Damian what's wrong, Ummi said Damian instead of Dami. What did you idiots do this time?

Hold on demon spawn we didn't do anything let's ask Dad, Tim suggested.

Dad, what's happening with mom? Dick says

I don't know Dick your mother has been acting weird since this morning and she even woke up early like 6 in the morning early. [GASP], Bruce answers.

Damn, what the hell did we do? Damian says.

shut up demon spawn, I am trying to think, Jason continues.

Hi kids... MOM/UMMI!!, Batmom says out of nowhere.

Kids, I am very disappointed in you, Batmom continues

But mom we don't even know what we did wrong, dick said, and collectively everyone said yeah.

Sweethearts, why is there a FUCKING COW on my lawn, Batmom yelled out.

OHHHHHHHH, yeah Mom we all decided to get a cow, Dick answered truthfully. Shhhhh dickhead don't get me involved, Jason says slapping Dick behind his head

well, I am so glad you told me what happened, so here you go, Batmom says while handing everyone a paper.

What's this Honey? bruce said while taking the paper in his hand

well, that's the list of chores and you all are grounded for a month!!! Batmom said yelling.

WAIT, DOES THAT MEAN I AM GROUNDED FOR TWO MONTHS STRAIGHT, Jason shouted in fear.

No, Babybird, you all are grounded for two more months since you all exposed yourself when trying to figure out why I was upset with you guys, Batmom said with her hands on her hips.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!, Jason shouted.

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[vivwritesfics]

Another Poly!Landoscar thought! Again Christmas obsessed reader and a super cute winter wonderland date where they’re just cute and cozy and it’s fun (bc have you met these men? They’d make anything date so fun!) and they treat her to literally anything because they feel bad about being away for so many races etc

Somebody teach me what winter wonderland is pls - also, how has nobody requested Carlando yet?

Just Christmassy Things

Ice skating. Y/N loved it. She couldn't get enough. It was a shame she could only go during the winter season, when the mall had the skating rink set up.

She had begged Lando and Oscar to go, but the boys were rather reluctant. They didn't know how to skate and there was a rather large chance they would get pictured or filmed.

But Y/N kept asking and begging, giving them the puppy dog eyes. And how could they say no to their girl.

That was how Lando and Oscar found themselves outside of the skating rink, doing up their skates. Y/N was all ready to go, waiting for their turn on the rink. "Promise you'll help me?" Asked Oscar as he shakily stood on the blade.

Y/N nodded her head. "'Course, Osc. Can't leave you to fall now, can I," she said as she grabbed his hand, pulling him closer.

From the bench, Lando pouted. "What about me?"

Y/N walked over on her skates and kissed him. "Stop being a big baby and use one of the balancing aids," she said against his lips.

Lando and Oscar were right, they were photographed. Thank god the pictures were cute. It was Y/N skating backwards as she held Oscars hands, pulling him along. Lando was practically folded in half as he held Oscars waist and was pulled along behind them.

***

You how you get some streets and villages that are utterly covered in blinding Christmas lights? With the front lawns decorated to the nines with lights on bushes and plants, light up animals and trees all over the place.

It was gorgeous. And all Lando wanted to do was take his partners.

So, he loaded the both of them into the car with snacks and blankets. Although it got dark early they still went late, with Y/N and Oscar in their fluffiest pyjamas.

Y/N sat in the back of the car, through the windows as they passed the beautiful houses and lights. Oscar looked like s child on Christmas morning as he looked from house to house.

"I can't wait until we get a house of our own," Y/N muttered under her breath.

Lando looked at her through the rearview mirror. "What was that, baby?" He asked, still driving slowly.

"I said I can't wait until we get our own house," she repeated. "And then we can have over the top decorations and the prettiest house in the neighbourhood."

"I can't wait either."

[ddejavvu]

spencer x reader where they met at the library in college and kind of became study buddies (+ lots of mutual pining), then flashforward to like s4/5 spencer and reader joins the bau :')

i'm gonna pretend spence was normal college age and not 13 <3

--

You spot the familiar stringy mop of brown hair before he spots you, his head downturned in a book that it doesn't look like he should be reading on government time.

"Agents," Agent Hotchner stands in front of you, a step to the left, "We have a new recruit. Agent L/N," Spencer's head shoots out of his book and around to face you at your name, his gooey brown eyes widening, "Is fresh out of her time at the academy, I've seen her reports and I'm confident she'll be an asset to this team."

Before anyone can get a polite greeting in, a kind smile or a nice to meet you, Spencer's springing out of his seat, rushing you and nearly pushing Agent Hotchner over in his overzealous attempt at a hug.

Someone cries, 'Reid!' and you're wondering if this is common occurrence, if he often bowls people over like a puppy excited to see his owner. But as he laughs wetly into your neck, tears in his eyes while he squeezes you, you're pretty sure this is special treatment.

"Spencer," You gush, grinning hard over his shoulder, "It's good to see you again!"

"You too!" He rocks you back and forth, lanky legs nearly tipping you over, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Because it was a nice surprise," You only back away when you see the other agents staring bewilderedly at you, because no matter how kind their smiles are, you don't want to ignore them for much longer in case you come off as rude. Spencer's less willing to let go, but he settles for keeping your arm locked in his grip.

"So, you know Spencer?" A blonde woman asks, slim and pretty. She has an amused smirk on her face, and you nod sheepishly.

"We met in college," You flex your arm, squeezing him closer, "We were study buddies for a while, then he graduated early and left me."

You send a silly glare his way, but he knocks his nose into your cheek as a reply, knowing you're not really vengeful about it.

"That sounds about right," An older man nods, beard greying as he runs a hand over it, "Agent L/N, is it? I remember hearing your name a while back. You've been destined for us, I think."

"That's me," You glance briefly around at the rest of your new team, finding similarly sweet expressions on their faces, "And- and you are?"

"David Rossi," He holds out a hand that you shake with a grin.

"Derek Morgan," A tall man to the left of Agent Hotchner steps up next, followed by the blonde from earlier, "Jennifer Jareau, but most people just call me JJ."

"I'm Emily, uh- Prentiss." A dark haired woman stands beside another blonde, a sleek black pantsuit beside a rainbow-themed dress.

"Penelope Garcia," The latter grins, holding out a hand that has several bracelets tucked around her wrist, "It's nice to meet you! I didn't know Reid had friends in college."

"Or ever," Morgan chuckles, and you squeeze Spencer's hand where he's still holding yours in reassurance.

"We were quite close," You recall lazy mornings in the library, then afternoons sprawled out over the lawn munching on pretzels and fruit, "Neither of us were very social, I think we found solace in that."

"Yeah," Spencer nods, hair flying around his face. You tuck a stray strand behind his ear with a smile as he rambles, "She never asked me to go drinking every friday night."

"Then I think you both need to join us this time," Emily grins, watching fondly as Spencer groans, face-planting into your shoulder, "You can both find out what you've been missing."

You're sure she means expensive booze and scantily-clad patrons, but Spencer's face still rests on your shoulder, and you know what you've really both been missing runs deeper: each other.

[mamirhodessxox]

Daddy Dearest <3

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Girl dad!Leon x Mom!Reader

Blue for Leon pink for reader & purple for D/N

Desc: Despite his career path Leon has been developing pretty well to his girl dad life & revolves entirely around world around his wife & sweet little angel babygirl

Tags: Tooth Aching fluff, Dilf Leon, No smut ‼️‼️‼️, Just dad Leon living his dream! No use of y/n, D/n stands for Daughters Name

I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated!!!

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Leon Loving his life was an understatement, He was a miserable guy not so long ago but it all changed once he met you & had his very first child! Of course after first he was worried about being a deadbeat father, but eventually he suited up and prepared for everything was to come, dropped his drinking habits, went to therapy for most of his trauma from working on the most messed up cases world wide known to mankind & even baby proofing the entire house you two shared for over 4 years.

He even went out of his way to take random target trips with you during your pregnancy to stare at nursery furniture and random trinkets and toys he found, holding up gender neutral baby clothing before knowing the gender & asking “you think this is cute sweetheart?” It was amazing how he became so obsessed with the thought of having his own little family with a white piket fence & beautiful front lawn garden (He started gardening as a coping mechanism which would soon be one of his top hobbies he brought onto his daughter.)

During the gender reveal he was nothing but pure excitement and joy to have a little baby girl that the next day he even went back to target and came home to baby-proof the entire house, testing objects to see if they would fall on a random baby doll etc, so much so that you had to go downstairs at 12 am and force him to take a break and come to bed, “You don’t think she’ll hit her head on the table one day right? I really wouldn’t want my little princess to get hurt” “I think you need to put down the baby proofing tools for the night & actually come to bed hun, it’s almost 1 o’clock”

Some days you would be in pure anguish because D/N would be doing pure gymnastics in your belly that Leon had to ‘have a talk’ but most of the time during your pregnancy he was always talking to your tummy, Asking her to relax on the jumping around in there, Sometimes waking up super early in the morning to talk to your belly & sometimes waking you up & hearing you tell him off a little bit in a muffled voice since you were buried in your body pillow. “Hi babygirl, you excited to get outta there & see your new room? Yeah? Oh I know your excited angel but you can’t keep kicking mama like this sweetheart it hurts her!”, “Can’t keep jumpin’ around in mommy’s belly sweetness your driving her insane sweetheart” “oh yeah!?You excited babydoll?” “Good morning my sweet girl, I can’t wait to see you y’know, mommy & I are so excited to meet you & hold you & love yo-“ “Leon what the hell are you doing awake at 5:30??” “Uh oh I woke up mom” “leon I swear to god if you don’t go back to sleep.”

And then came along the arrival of his awaited babygirl, he was so excited he even set up a little mini red carpet infront of her nursery & stars next to the door & even putting a little sign on your guys’ front door in bold glittery pink ‘Welcome Home Princess D/N” He even brought a little camera to make a home tape for every memory he makes with you & your daughter so when she is finally old enough she can watch, this tape includes her birthing where your shouting & screams could be heard such as “GOD FUCKING DAMNIT LEON!!” “I’M GONNA KILL YOU IN YOUR FUCKING SLEEP!”& his light crying of when she was born

After your daughter was born it was extremely difficult for you two to set a fair sleep schedule so for the first few weeks Leon would wake up at 2:30 AM whenever D/N was crying on the baby monitor and move the rocking chair placed in her room right next to the crib “What’s the matter sweetness? Can’t sleep again? I know babygirl it must be so tough trying to get your little beauty sleep huh?” He would slip his hand through the little bars of the crib and smile giddily every time she would wrap her little hand around his thumb, growing up was the most difficult for him, he cried every-time his sweet angel took her first steps, said her first word which was obviously a strained “da-da” which was to be expected since D/N was a total daddy’s girl. most of the time when he was off he would let you go to work so he could spend his days with your guys’ daughter, take her to the petting zoo, a random aquarium where she discovered her favorite animal was a sea horse, Leon’s entire existence revolved around D/N to the point where if her little fist was directed at something she wanted he bought it, she starts crying? He jumps right up to take her off your hands so you can relax, his entire world was revolving around her & you loved to see it, sometimes when you got home from work you’d see Leon on the living room floor with your daughter as she babbled playing with a random stuffed animal monkey “Hi honey, Took her to the petting zoo today, we discovered she really loves monkeys”

Some mornings when you would all sit at the table eating before the day started Leon would watch her in her high chair chew on whatever she had in-front of her causing a small mess where he would chuckle & clean up after her “Your just one messy little girl huh princess? Gonna have to teach you manners now little lady.” And then came the day where she got her very first booboo, I’m sure you can imagine what happened, Little D/N was running around the backyard chasing a butterfly while you & Leon just finished harvesting this falls apples and then randomly you heard a tiny little wail behind you causing Leon to jump up from the ground and scoop up his baby girl “Baby she has a cut on her knee we need to take her to the hospital now! Get in the car!” “Honey I think she’s alright nothing a little rubbing alcohol & a band aid can’t fix.” When the two of you went inside and into the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bath tub and sat little D/N on his knee while you rubbed some alcohol on her knee which reasonably made her wail out more than she did beforehand causing Leon to start tearing up and kissing the top of her head “I know angel I know it hurts but we can’t let your lil’ booboo get worse & nasty now can we?” Once you finished that 1 minute of anguish you two sat in the living room holding her close as you slightly teased Leon for his light crying “You love making daddy cry now don’t you honey? You know you have him tied up around your little finger huh” You joked while Leon grunted while worryingly making sure she didn’t hurt herself again

One day you caught him in her room when she was around 4 years old having a little tea party, he was sat in a chair next to her that was far to tiny for him to fit in as he wore a pink tiara around his head that was again to tiny for him & a pink fluffy tutu around his waist while fake sipping tea from the tea cup while causing her to giggle, You had just gotten home from work & leaned against the doorway smiling and holding in a laugh but Leon smiled back and stood up and had the tiny chair stuck on his ass causing you & D/N to laugh obnoxiously especially after he eventually was able to pull it off and walk over to you mumbling “shut up.” Before kissing you lightly & asking how your day went. Obviously because of his career he had to miss some important events at school for D/N and he felt AWFUL. He cried in your arms one night after returning from a 1 week trip where he missed father daughter school day where he imagined his poor babygirl sitting at her table in kindergarten watching everyone else with their dad while she had a confused expression. And every single night after that for a month straight he would have little sleepovers in her room where he read her bedtime stories, you know that one 3 little kitties book from despicable me? He obviously read that to her with the brightest smile on his face and once it was time for bed her would sleep on the floor right next to her toddler bed “Goodnight babygirl, daddy loves you so so much y’know that? You got his heart right in your little fist”

By the time she was 10 he was always helping her with school projects & homework & even going to father daughter dances with her, if

D/N wanted something all she had to do was ask and bat her little lashes, some days when he went to go pick her up from school with you in the car he would see her talking to a boy before running off to the car leaving him with a puzzled face “who the hell is that little twerp near my daughter? She does know he is not good enough for her right?” “Nuh-uh Leon, Don’t start let her have friend alright?” “Sweetheart just look at the little shit! He’s practically blushing looking at her right now!” “Oh stop it.”

Just imagine what it would be like when D/N is finally a teenager and brings a boy home for the first time..Leon makes it VERY clear nobody is good enough for his little girl & never will be, he is the entire reason why her standards will be extremely high…

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

🏷️ List: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 5: "Graduation"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: This one hurts a little differently than the others. But oh, the next installment will be interesting...and that one is tentatively titled "Jealous and Impolite," but the title may change a tad when I have it written out. And we're pretending Foggy and Matt briefly get an apartment together at the beginning of their internship but then have their own place shortly before they open their own firm (but it's not really important besides Matt's upcoming nighttime hobby). The list of installments for this series can be found here. And feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella2 @ms-murdockswift

Weaving your way around the crowds of people milling about in different directions outside on the campus lawn, your hands nervously fidgeted with the powder blue cap held between them. Your robes swished around your bare calves as you navigated the uproar around you, the weight of them uncomfortable over your dress on this warmer late May afternoon. All the while your eyes searched for Matt and Foggy among the chaos as you maneuvered your way around group after group of people. 

Your graduation ceremony had finished just before theirs, but you'd stayed behind in order to watch the pair of them walk, just like you’d promised them you would. You hadn't had a chance to see either of them before graduation this morning though, having been too busy getting ready yourself while trying to refrain from vomiting from the nerves swirling in your stomach. And when Matt's name had finally been called out and you had seen him walk across that stage in his own powder blue cap and gown, your heart had nearly stopped in your chest at the sight. It was like time had slowed down to a drag, your eyes following his every movement. He looked so handsome and happy, a broad smile on his face as he accepted the diploma cover. It wasn't until he'd walked off the stage that you had realized you'd been holding your breath, a wide smile spread across your own mouth. 

After his breakup with Elektra, Matt’s motivation had significantly plummeted. He’d been a mess for weeks, barely ever wanting to leave his bed and attend classes. He often said it wasn’t because of her, trying to deny it everytime you or Foggy tried to comfort him over the situation, but you and Foggy knew better. Matt hadn’t been himself for a very long time after Elektra had broken his heart. He’d even almost missed an important exam that he needed to pass in order to graduate the other week. If it hadn’t been for Foggy forcing him to get out of bed and get dressed and then practically dragging him to the exam himself, Matt would surely have missed it and he wouldn’t have been walking across that stage today. 

And the thought of that killed you, knowing just how much it had meant to Matt to graduate with this degree. How hard he’d been working for years for it. He had always been so incredibly passionate about law and about wanting to help those who weren’t fortunate enough to be able to afford good legal representation in the future. He’d been like that since the day you’d first met him in the library. You had spent many a night over the past couple of years listening to him and Foggy debate different topics in their dorm room–ethics often being a big one between them. And the way Matt always spoke so eloquently and intensely about his love and desire to help others had only steadily grown your love for him in return over the years you’d come to know him. He had the most compassionate heart of anyone you’d ever met and he had the most brilliant mind to accompany it. So it only broke your own heart further seeing him giving up on his dreams ever since she had disappeared. Which had once again only given you further reason to hate Elektra–she’d come into his life in a whirlwind and left a mess of the man he’d once been in her wake. 

Though while she’d certainly crushed his spirit–withering it away to almost nothing–she hadn’t broken him completely. You and Foggy had spent plenty of time picking up the pieces and putting him slowly back together. Encouraging him to focus on his studies and to let her go. Eventually he’d done just that, and now him and Foggy were off to intern at a large law firm–Landman and Zack. The pair of them had even gotten an apartment together lined up. Meanwhile, you were still waiting to hear back about the position you’d interviewed for last week, hoping you would have the funds to continue to pay for the apartment you’d recently leased. You were waiting on that news to come some time today, though.

The sound of your name being called out from behind you drew you to a stop and pulled you straight from your thoughts. Your brows furrowed as you spun in a circle, searching for whoever it was that might have been calling for you. A few seconds later, your eyes scanning the throngs of people around you, you finally spotted Foggy and Matt emerging from the masses. Both men were grinning wide, Matt holding onto Foggy’s forearm as Foggy led the pair of them over towards you. They were clutching their diploma covers under an arm, the sight still surreal.

“I didn’t think I’d ever find you two!” you exclaimed, making your way towards them.

“It’s a goddamn madhouse here!” Foggy shouted back, the grin never leaving his mouth. “And don’t you look stunning in that baby blue potato sack!”

You laughed, shooting Foggy the finger before your eyes shifted to Matt. The pair of them came to a stop just before you and you felt your heart speed up in your chest as your eyes took in the sight of Matt in his cap and gown. His dark glasses were covering his eyes, but nothing could hide the glow of sheer happiness and excitement on his face as he beamed back at you. You tried hard to fight the ridiculous smile on your own face as you stared at him for a moment, but you noticed Foggy beside him had certainly caught the stupid, dopey smile you were aiming at Matt. Heat rose up to your cheeks as you glanced down in embarrassment, grateful Matt couldn’t see it himself.

“We fucking did it!” Foggy cried out. 

“I can’t believe it still,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “Like, I feel like I still have classes next week to attend. Projects to finish. More boring lectures to heavily caffeinate before so I don’t fall asleep.”

Matt chuckled, the sound warm and comforting to your nerves. He was always so comforting to you, though, you thought. And he never even realized it.

“It might be awhile before it sinks in, but you certainly don’t have all of that to worry about anymore,” he assured you.

“No,” Foggy cut in. “Now we just have to worry about getting jobs and paying bills.”

“Speaking of,” Matt began, his head tilting to the side as he focused in on you, “did you hear back from that company yet?”

Shaking your head a little solemnly, you replied with a soft, “No.”

“Ahh, well,” he said, the smile never leaving his face, “I’m sure you’ll hear back later today with good news. You’re amazing and they’d be morons not to hire you.”

“If only I could put that on my resume,” you joked.

Someone hit your elbow as they barreled past you from behind. You winced, rubbing your arm as you shot them a glare at their back. Beside Matt, Foggy sent you a sympathetic look.

“Why don’t we get out of this post-ceremony chaos?” he suggested. “Before the next one starts?”

Your eyes darted around, taking in the neverending streams of people. There was a sea of powder blue almost everywhere you looked.

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea,” you agreed.

Matt quickly shifted his diploma cover to his hand, extending the arm he wasn’t hanging on to Foggy with out towards you. Your eyes dropped down to it, your brows drawing together in confusion.

“Here, you want to hold on to me?” Matt asked, his arm still offered towards you. “I don’t want to lose you out here. I know I can’t actually see the chaos ensuing, but I can certainly hear it. Sounds pretty bad.”

Switching your own diploma to the other hand, you reached out and looped your arm through Matt’s. He drew you in close to his side immediately after, taking you by surprise when your hip bumped up against his thigh under his graduation gown. Foggy peering around Matt completely cut off whatever reaction your body was about to have to that contact instantly.

“Hey, you want to come with us to grab lunch?” Foggy asked. “My family wanted to celebrate last minute and I know yours couldn’t be here today. You want to join us?”

The three of you began walking, Foggy and you navigating the group of you around the masses of people as Matt fell in step between you both. Your hip kept brushing up against Matt’s thigh though and it was taking every ounce of your focus to ignore it as you walked.

“Oh, lunch?” you asked, hip yet again bumping Matt’s solid thigh. 

“You’d make me feel less like the weird, adopted child,” Matt joked.

You laughed lightly, turning your body just at the last moment towards Matt to avoid bumping into a couple walking past you. You felt his arm tense around yours as your chest briefly pressed against him before you swiftly pulled back away. 

“I uh, I can’t,” you answered quickly, trying to ignore whatever weirdness you’d just caused. “I haven’t finished packing up my dorm fully. Sort of wanted to get it done before dinner tonight.”

Foggy peered around Matt again, catching your eye. “You’re still coming over to celebrate tonight at least, right?” he asked. “Because I’ll be mad at you if you don’t.”

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me, Nelson? Of course I’m coming over to celebrate our last night in our dorms. Why the hell would I miss that?” you asked.

“Just making sure,” he said.

The three of you finally made it away from the ceremony location, coming to a stop just before one of the main paths on campus. People were still milling about, but it was at least vastly less populated here. You slipped your arm out from underneath Matt’s, his head snapping towards you at the loss of contact.

“This is where we part ways for now then, boys,” you said. “Enjoy your lunch and I’ll see you both later. I’ve got some packing to finish.”

“You’re missing out!” Foggy called after you.

You turned, heading the familiar path back to your residence hall, your heels clicking along the sidewalk as you went. 

“Don’t I know it,” you muttered to yourself, your mind already wandering back to Matt.

Legs crossed on the end of Matt’s bed, you were staring at Foggy across the room. He was passed out, lying half upright against the headboard of his own bed, his mouth hanging open as he snored lightly. The empty pizza box of the pizza the three of you had devoured a bit ago sat open on the end of his mattress.

“Told you he’d be the first to pass out,” Matt said behind you.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, your head turning back towards him. He was leaning against his headboard, one leg crossed over the other in his dark sweatpants. His arms were behind his head, a smile on his mouth. He looked the picture of relaxed as he lay there, his eyes fixed near you on the end of his bed. It never ceased to amaze you how unfairly attractive he was at all times.

“Foggy always passes out first,” you pointed out. “Not really anything new there, Murdock.”

He laughed lightly, nodding his head. “You have a point,” he agreed. “Suppose it wouldn’t be our last night here if it didn’t involve Foggy passing out early after a handful of beers.”

A heaviness hit you in the chest at Matt’s words, your eyes dropping down to your lap. Your fingers played with the hem of your jeans, a soft sigh leaving you. Matt’s foot gently nudged your knee, drawing your attention back up to his face. His dark brows were drawn together, a deep crease forming on his forehead. His head tilted to the side as he studied you with a slight frown.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Thought you’d be more excited. We just graduated. You got the job you wanted–which I mean, I already knew you would. But this is supposed to be a good night. Why the sullenness?”

Because I also won’t have nights like these ever again.

“I am excited,” you admitted slowly. “But I mean it’s–it’s a little bittersweet, isn't it? Hanging out with you and Foggy was my routine for a couple of years now. Coming over here and studying with you guys. Or just drinking and hanging out and ordering incredibly strange combinations of takeout.”

Matt broke into a laugh, the bright sound cutting you off. “Certainly some strange combinations. Foggy is a genius when it comes to ordering the right food when you’re drunk though,” he mused.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed, a sad smile on your lips. “And that was our thing for years. But now?” You shrugged lightly. “I won't be able to just walk to the residence hall beside mine and hop on an elevator to reach your guys' place. There's no more sitting around eating pizza and drinking beer late at night after tonight.” You felt your eyes welling up with tears and you immediately focused back on your fidgeting hands. “Now we’re getting apartments and jobs. Becoming adults. Needing sleep because we work."

And I’m losing you.

Your heart twisted in your chest at the thought. Sure, you weren’t leaving New York City and neither were they–hell, you were all moving into Hell’s Kitchen. But how long before your lives went in separate directions? Before they settled down and became successful lawyers who ran in entirely different circles than you? When would your friendship suddenly fall away?

“Hey,” Matt said softly.

The tone of his voice caught your attention and you looked back up at him. You watched him scoot over on the bed, his left hand coming down and patting the space beside him. Your lip slipped between your teeth as you nervously chewed it.

“Come sit with me?” he asked.

Unable to ever refuse Matt, you uncrossed your legs and made your way gradually over to the top of his bed. Sitting down beside him, you leant your back against his headboard and settled in next to him. It took you by surprise when Matt easily slipped his left arm around your shoulders and drew you further into his side until your head inevitably rested along his shoulder. Your hands awkwardly clasped together in your lap, feeling unsure what to do with them. Matt had never really been this forthright with you before. 

“It is a little bittersweet,” he agreed gently. “You and Foggy have become like the family I never really had while I’ve been here. And you–you both mean a lot to me.” 

He blew out a breath slowly, your head falling with the movement of his shoulder. You noticed he smelled really good, as if he’d put on a faint bit of cologne today. Something you never really noticed him doing before. Your head turned just a bit in towards his neck as you tried to breathe in the scent of him a little more, committing it to memory.

“Things are changing, sure,” he continued, “but I still plan to be here as long as you are. I don’t think anything can separate the three of us.”

“You say that now,” you mumbled. “But you don’t know how the next few years are going to go.”

His arm lightly shook you, your name falling from his lips so softly. The sound of it drew the corners of your mouth up ever so slightly.

“You are one of my absolute best friends,” Matt admitted. “And as long as you want my dumb ass as your friend, I’ll always be here.”

You snorted in amusement, shaking your head against his shoulder and ignoring that dull ache that always hit you when Matt called you his friend. 

“You’re the furthest thing from being a dumbass,” you said. “Especially with your fancy new law degree now.”

He chuckled, the sound a pleasant, deep rumble in your ears. You smiled, eyes dropping closed as you leaned further into him. You wanted to memorize every detail of this moment with him, to commit it to memory in your mind forever, because you were certain you’d never have another moment like this again with Matt. Not after college. He'd certainly be bombarded with beautiful women left and right, especially as a successful lawyer. Eventually he’d find someone and settle down with them. And you would slowly fade from his life no matter what he said. 

Your eyes tightened a little harder, fighting back the threat of tears at that thought. You didn’t want to think about the day Matt was no longer a part of your life.

"We can still get together on the weekends," Matt told you. "Maybe Saturday nights? We can make it a thing, even."

"Fog said you guys were going to be insanely busy at that internship," you pointed out, fighting to keep your voice from cracking. "Working weekends even."

Matt shrugged in response, your head rising and falling with the movement yet again. You felt his hand begin to gently rub along your arm, the gesture confusing as much as it was comforting you. Matt had never touched you like this before, had never wanted you close to him like this. He must have been experiencing that same bittersweet nostalgic feeling you were with knowing both your lives were about to change drastically. 

"We'll figure it out," he promised you. "We're bound to take breaks at some point, right? We'll make it work. I'm not losing you."

Your hands balled into fists in your lap, your jaw tightening at what he’d said. Those last four words hung heavy in the air between the pair of you. The desire to suddenly spill forth your feelings to Matt was almost unbearable. Whether it was from the excitement of the day, the three beers you’d had tonight, the nervous fear of how things were about to change, or the way Matt’s hand was still soothingly gliding back and forth along your arm, you somehow found yourself wanting to tell him how you felt. You desperately wanted him to know how much you’d loved him for years. 

Your fingernails dug into your palms from where your hands were still balled up. The thought of having that weight lifted from your shoulders was so tempting. You just wanted to stop hiding it from him, to stop holding yourself back. You just wanted to say it, just once.

But you knew you couldn't ultimately say anything at all. Matt had said it himself multiple times tonight already–you were his friend. Like family to him. He wouldn’t want to hear you express your love for him in any way that wasn’t strictly familial and platonic.

“I wish my dad had been here today,” Matt whispered.

With a shaky exhale, your eyelids flew back open and you pushed your previous thoughts aside–as you'd done many times before. You focused on Matt instead. Shifting your head along his shoulder, you looked up at him beside you. His lips were pulled into a deep frown, the sorrow written plain as day in his eyes as he stared blankly across the room. The sight had your heart squeezing in your chest exactly like it had done that day you’d seen him after Elektra had smashed his heart.

You knew how much he loved his father and how much he missed him. He’d had a very deep conversation with you one night, a little over a year ago, spilling his heart to you about his father's death. He’d told you how it had affected him. He’d even confessed that he hadn’t ever told Foggy all of that before, that he’d only ever told you. And you had felt honored he would even open up that much to you, expressing such deep, personal feelings. Especially because Matt didn’t let people in easily.

“He was here in his own way today,” you assured him. “And he’d be proud of you, Matt. You graduated at the top of your class. From an Ivy League law school.”

"I just wish I could tell him," he whispered. "Hear what he'd say to me."

Hesitantly you tested his boundaries, lifting your arm and carefully wrapping it around his waist. When he didn't protest, you gently squeezed him in a hug, drawing yourself closer.

"He'd say you're still his smarty pants son, I'm sure," you answered.

A small, almost sad laugh fell out of Matt, his other hand coming up to cover yours. A warmth gradually felt like it filled you as Matt’s thumb lightly stroked the backs of your knuckles. You had no idea what it meant that the pair of you were cuddled up on his bed together like this, but you were just going to let yourself enjoy it tonight. You didn’t want to ruin this moment with reality.

"I can't believe you remembered that I told you he called me that," he whispered. 

"I remember everything you tell me, Matty," you replied. “Especially the important things.”

There was a moment of silence before both of Matt’s hands stopped their absent, almost affectionate movements against your arm and your hand. You frowned, wondering if he’d finally decided the pair of you had crossed some boundary too far out of friendship, especially with what you’d just said. But then his hand released yours, landing gently and almost hesitantly on your neck. You swallowed hard when his fingertips took a slow glide up the length of your throat until his palm could cup your cheek. Carefully he pulled you away from his shoulder, angling your face up towards his as he whispered your name. 

He was looking down at you with his brows slightly drawn together, something unexplainable hidden in his eyes. You couldn’t quite make sense of what it was, your own eyes narrowing back at him as they jumped back and forth between his. His face was so close to yours though, you quickly realized. The warm exhalations of his breath from his slightly parted lips falling against your own mouth each time.

Was he going to kiss you? Surely not…

“You are…absolutely amazing,” he whispered. “And I–I–”

Your heart sped up in your chest, that almost fight or flight reaction abruptly coursing through you. You were almost afraid as you sat there gazing back at Matt, terrified you were steadily letting yourself get your hopes up for something that wasn’t going to happen. You could feel it happening already, that desperate yearning for more only rapidly increasing your panic.

Matt’s gaze shifted from yours, darting across the room towards Foggy for a moment as he winced. His eyes closed briefly before he turned his focus back on you, his sightless eyes falling along your left cheekbone. He winced again–the action incredibly minute this time–before he spoke.

“And I don’t ever want to lose you as my friend,” he finished. “And I just–just want you to know that.”

Your heart sank to the floor at his words. You knew they were coming, you knew it, yet they still managed to hurt. That panicked feeling inside of you quickly dissipated, your body quickly trying to become numb to this moment. Of course he wasn’t about to kiss you and confess his feelings to you. How unrealistic would that have been.

But you realized he was still staring back at you, an expression on his face that further confused you as he clearly waited for you to respond. Pulling away from him, the moment entirely soured to you now, you forced a smile onto your face as his hand fell from your cheek.

“I uh, I don’t want to lose your friendship either, Matt,” you said, forcing to keep your voice even. “But it’s–it’s late. Maybe I should let you get some sleep. We’ve both got a big move tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah,” he said softly, nodding.

You slid away from Matt, making your way to the edge of the bed before climbing off of it. Awkwardly you turned back around towards him, your eyes taking in the sight of him on his dorm room bed for what would be the last time ever. A flood of emotions struck you all at once like a punch to the gut, the weight of this being the end of an era really hitting you in this moment. Things were changing.

“Don’t be a stranger, Matty,” you whispered.

He shot you a tense, sad smile. “I won’t,” he promised.

You spun on your heel, crossing your arms across your chest tight as you made your way out of their dorm room for the last time. It wasn’t until you’d finally made it back to your own building that the tears began to fall. 

Maybe, you thought, it was time for you to let Matt just be your friend. Maybe now it was time to crush that ridiculous lingering hope you’d had for there to ever be something more between you two once and for all.

Maybe you needed to move on.

[gerrystamour]

the fire is so delightful

For: @mojowitchcraft / weird_witchcraft

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Max "Maxine" Mayfield

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 5,500

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Max's dad in this, Steve Harrington is a Christmas Lover, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Frottage, Dom/sub undertones

Summary: Eddie hates Christmas. Steve, and his daughter, loves it. Eddie decides to grin and bear it.

This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange

[ READ ON AO3 ]

All great things come with a certain amount of sacrifice, Eddie told himself that everyday.

So when the hot school teacher that frequented the bar Eddie worked asked him out, he knew there had to be some sort of catch.

He knew Steve was a single dad well before he asked Eddie out and he’d decided that was just fine by him. Eddie loved kids, was great with them even, plus Steve already told him he had a rule about not introducing new partners to his kid too soon. The kid was absolutely not a sacrifice, in Eddie’s mind.

He also knew that Steve was what one might call a jock, athletically inclined and holy shit, did he look like it. Eddie’s high school self was wailing and screaming about him falling for the enemy, but the first tumble between the sheets proved that the athleticism only did good things for things like stamina, strength, power. So once again, not a sacrifice.

Steve was hilarious, dedicated, hot as hell, and the perfect father. He was accommodating and kind, while also the bitchiest, most savage gossip in the entire world. He was also the best goddamn lay Eddie had ever had, what with the way he took control and helped still Eddie’s racing thoughts, sent his mind straight into the stratosphere where he couldn’t think about anything other than the pleasure he was feeling at Steve’s focused hands.

No, they made it three whole months into their relationship before the moment of truth came.

It was actually two months into the relationship when the first hint came up, if Eddie had been paying any attention at all.

“I’m not much of a Halloween person,” Steve had said when Eddie asked why the decorations on his front lawn were so lame. “Neither is Max, so we don’t really go all out.”

That was insane to Eddie, absolute serial killer vibes. There were several seconds where he was actually contemplating if they would work out.

“Maybe you just haven’t had the right person to show you how awesome Halloween is,” Eddie had teased as he crowded Steve against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe,” Steve had replied with a lazy smirk, glancing at Eddie’s mouth. “Definitely happy to let you try to change my mind.”

And damn, did Steve let him try. That beautiful man went to every goddamn haunt and ghost walk that Eddie dragged him to, and he even smiled through most of it. Steve even found something nice to say about everything they did, even the things that Eddie caught him giving bitchy eyerolls at.

By mid-October, Steve had decided it was time that Eddie met his daughter Max, and their first bonding experience was hitting up the Spirit Halloween and getting her a sick costume and then getting half a dozen pumpkins to carve together. They spent the whole afternoon gutting and carving them while Steve cleaned and roasted the seeds and made other treats and dinner for all three of them.

It had been a perfect day, one that ended with Eddie spending the night at Steve’s house, in his bed, and eating breakfast with both Steve and Max. It was one of those times that Eddie realized he was falling in love and falling fast. That morning, Max had asked Eddie if he would take her and her friends trick-or-treating and Eddie thought his chest might explode it felt so full of affection for the twelve-year old.

The moment of truth came sometime around the beginning of November when Steve came to the bar and bopped his head to the Christmas music that was already playing.

“Annoying, right?” Eddie groused, and Steve raised an eyebrow with one of his patient smiles.

“What is?”

“The music. Halloween just ended and we’re already being subjected to the sickening upbeat nonsense for a capitalist holiday?” Eddie had explained grumpily while he shined a glass. When he’d looked up at Steve, he barely caught the weird expression that was quickly wiped from his face.

“You don’t like Christmas?” Steve had asked, and he was smiling but there was something off about it.

“No,” Eddie said honestly and flatly, and Steve did that little laugh he did only when he was trying to not say something. “Do you?”

“Yeah, but like, a normal amount,” Steve said and then he quickly changed the subject.

After that, Steve seemed reluctant to invite him over until Thanksgiving and Eddie pushed about it. When he finally did, he got all the answers he needed.

Steve’s house was… well, lets just say what it lacked for Halloween decor, it definitely made up for with Christmas stuff. There was a big inflatable Santa and reindeer in the front lawn, and honestly the Christmas lights were so well done they looked professional. Like, straight out of those Christmas commercials.

When Eddie stepped into the house, he quickly realized that Steve was likely a lot more into Christmas than “a normal amount” like he claimed. Every surface had some sort of decor, and there was a stand in the front room for a real tree. Staring at that stand, Eddie kind of hoped he was invited along to go shopping for a tree, which was stupid because he hated Christmas.

“Sorry for all the, y’know,” Steve had said as he scrubbed the back of his neck, gesturing around. “This is our thing, me and Max’s I mean.”

“Stevie, babe, you don’t have to apologize. Like at all. Or pretend to be chill. You literally let me be my craziest about Halloween without complaint,” Eddie had said, insistent and desperate for Steve to understand that had he known, he’d have kept his mouth shut about Christmas entirely.

“Yeah, but I don’t hate Halloween, Eds,” Steve had said with the saddest little smile and Eddie had to stop that immediately.

“Listen, Steve, I don’t have many good memories around Christmas because I grew up poor and most of my extended family hated me, so I just— I never saw the point of it,” Eddie said quickly, grabbing Steve’s hands tightly in his own. “I am more than happy to let you try and change my mind. I want to be part of every single stupid Christmas thing you do if you’ll have me and I’ll even play nice about the dumb stuff, just like you did with me. I promise.”

Steve just smirked at him, an expression Eddie had seen only in the context of either playing one of his sports when he was sure he was going to win and in bed when Eddie challenged him to a seemingly impossible task.

“I look forward to teaching you the magic of Christmas, then,” Steve said simply, and kissed him so sweetly that Eddie’s knees nearly buckled beneath him. Then, when he pulled away, he smirked and pointed upward. “Mistletoe.”

When Steve walked away toward the kitchen and Eddie looked up at the mistletoe hanging above him, he knew he was in trouble if the butterflies in his gut were anything to go by.

The thing was, Eddie loved all the “stupid” Christmas shit Steve dragged him to, and it was a lot less like being “dragged” to them. Sure enough, that Thanksgiving weekend, Steve invited Eddie to go shopping for their tree, and Max had been loud in her demand that he say yes. If he hadn’t already been trying to figure out how to ask to go along, that would have convinced him to give up the Grinch schtick. His heart growing three times its size and that shit. Whatever.

Choosing the tree had taken a whole afternoon at the nursery, Max being exceedingly picky and Eddie just feeding into that to make the whole thing last longer. Eventually Steve reached his limit with the two of them and declared that they had to choose one out of the two contenders they were debating between.

“Eddie should choose!” Max declared, crossing her arms over her chest as she rounded on Eddie. “It’s the rules.”

“What rules, red?” he asked, bewildered and a little touched.

“It’s your first Christmas with us,” she said with a roll of her eyes, like it was the most obvious answer. “New friends choose our tree.”

“Yeah, Max, but that’s only if they’re into Christmas,” Steve said, shooting Eddie an apologetic smile.

“What kind of asshole doesn’t like Christmas?” Max asked and Steve’s mouth dropped open as Eddie winced a bit.

“Maxine!” Steve said sternly, putting his hands on his hips and sending Eddie an almost frantic look.

“Steve, it’s fine. More than fine. I would be honoured to choose your tree,” Eddie said, grinning as he stepped close to kiss Steve’s cheek.

“Our tree,” Max said firmly, and Eddie nodded.

“Of course, I meant ‘your tree’ as in the Harrington tree, not just your dad’s tree, little red,” Eddie had reassured her quickly and she just rolled her eyes.

“No, stupid, I mean our tree. It’s your tree, too,” she explained, frowning when Eddie’s mouth dropped open. Then she huffed and glanced away. “Hurry up and choose. I’m getting cold and Lucas wanted to play some dumb video game today.”

So, Eddie chose the Harrington tree and he even was part of bringing it back to their house, setting it up in the stand and decorating it. They spent hours on the whole affair, and that evening after Max had been in bed for an hour, he found himself laying on the floor of the front room staring up at Steve. He was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, his eyes shining so brightly in the dim room. They had been making out on the floor lazily, their mulled wine cooling in the mugs sitting on a table nearby.

“Thank you for humouring her,” Steve murmured, tucking some of Eddie’s curls behind his ear. “At the nursery. You could’ve said no and I would’ve made her understand.”

“Wasn’t humouring her, Stevie. I mean it,” Eddie insisted, reaching up and cupping Steve’s jaw. “I’m… I’m all in with you, okay? I want to— I helped with the tree because I wanted to, not because she made me.”

Steve’s grin had been blinding and they barely made it to the bedroom before clothes began to be tugged off of each other.

Thus began the trips to winter markets every single weekend, sometimes multiple markets, where Steve and Max would purchase even more kitschy Christmas decor and mulling spice mixes and various fancy pastries and such. It was a lot of Christmas music (which was still disgustingly overplayed) but it was also a lot of seeing Steve and Max smiling so big their faces had to hurt from it.

So, yeah, the sacrifice in this great thing with Steve was that Eddie had to pretend to like Christmas.

The only thing was, he wasn’t pretending, not with Steve. Not with the way Steve and Max did Christmas, the way they involved all of their loved ones and made sure everyone got something out of the holiday from them. It was a shocking revelation when Eddie realized he wanted to spend Christmas with the Harringtons for the rest of his life, that Christmas had the opportunity to usurp Halloween’s place in his heart if Steve kept this up.

When the Hawkins Winter Carnival rolled around, Eddie was ready for the inevitable invite that would come from Steve. It was the thing to do that time of year, and if Eddie was being honest, he had never gone. Well, he went when he was really young, but it didn’t count because he couldn’t remember it.

But the invite just wasn’t coming, and the carnival weekend was quickly approaching. It would be easy enough to secure the day off of work, but it was always better to have as much notice as possible.

“So, were you gonna be going to the Hawkins Winter Carnival?” Eddie asked one day as he sat at the island in Steve’s kitchen, and Steve’s ears went dark red.

“Uhm, yes, I was going,” he admitted sheepishly, and when he looked up, he balked at whatever expression was on Eddie’s face. “I’m just— I’ve been saddled with chaperoning all of Max’s friends and I didn’t want you to have an extra miserable time.”

Eddie blinked at Steve, confused at his logic there. “Why would I be miserable spending the day with two of my favourite people in the whole world?” he asked, grinning at the affectionate eyeroll and blush that got out of Steve.

“Okay, but it’s not just going to be the three of us. It would be us plus a whole gaggle of other twelve-year olds and I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy,” Steve replied, stirring the sauce he had simmering on the stove.

“Uh-huh, but that’s still not you asking me what I wanna do,” Eddie pointed out, raising an eyebrow when Steve opened his mouth to argue. When Steve snapped it shut again, Eddie puffed his chest up smugly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Fine. Eddie, would you like to join me and a gaggle of sixth-graders to the carnival?” Steve asked with another roll of his eyes, but he was grinning when he looked up at Eddie through his lashes.

“I would love to!” Eddie replied brightly, already texting his boss at the bar to get the day off.

The day of the carnival was bright and sunny, the snow on the ground blinding. The sun beaming through the windows of Eddie’s apartment was warm, so he just put on his jeans, an insulated pair of boots, and one of his heavier coats. He didn’t want to get too hot walking around, he decided, and the thought of keeping track of gloves and a hat was daunting on its own.

When Steve arrived to pick him up, he only had Max in the back seat, and she was practically vibrating with excitement. Not that she would voice it out loud, of course, but Eddie knew she was happy he was tagging along.

“You look good,” Steve sighed, leaning across the center console to press a soft, chaste kiss to Eddie’s lips, filling his stomach with a swarm of butterflies.

“You, too,” Eddie replied, chasing Steve’s lips for another quick kiss before sitting properly and buckling up. They could usually get away with two chaste smooches before Max started gagging noisily in the back seat.

“So, where are the gaggle of children I was warned about?” Eddie asked after Steve started driving, turning in his seat so he could see Max, too.

“We’re meeting them there,” Max replied, staring out her window.

“So their parents can get them all there, but can’t stick around?” Eddie asked and Steve laughed.

“Yep,” he said, and Max huffed.

“You offer to take us every single year, Dad,” she said flatly, for which Steve apparently had no argument.

Once they arrived at the carnival, it only took a few minutes before an entire gaggle of tweens surrounded them, all of them speaking at volumes that had to be against some kind of international law or convention or something. Eddie just stood off to the side, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets as he watched Steve take charge (kind of) and coral the little demons.

“Who’re you?”

Eddie jumped, startled by a voice right in front of him. Looking down, he realized that all of the kids were now staring at him, and he had no idea which one just spoke.

“Uh… Hi, I’m Eddie,” he replied, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave at the kids with just his fingers. Immediately, he put his hand back into his pocket as he realized the air was a bit colder than he had been prepared for.

“You’re Steve’s boyfriend?” the tallest kid asked with complete and utter disbelief in his voice.

“Gee, Wheeler, thanks?” Steve snorted, rolling his eyes skyward.

“He just seems way out of your league—” Mike started to reply before he was cut-off by a sharp elbow to the sternum from Max. “Hey!”

“Alright, children, let’s keep it civil please. We’ve got three hours to kill here, we don’t need to start it off with a fight,” Steve interjected, bodily stepping between Mike and Max. “Where do we want to head first?”

It was at that point that all the kids started talking at once, stumbling over each other. From what Eddie could gather, the kids wanted to split from the adults and do their own thing. There was a lot of back-and-forth, but eventually, they reached an agreement with Steve.

Firstly, they were to stay within the grounds of the carnival. Secondly, he would be calling one of their cell phones every thirty minutes to check on them and if they didn’t answer they immediately lost their adult-free privileges. Thirdly, they were expected to meet Steve and Eddie at the gates of the carnival at five without Steve having to round them up himself.

“You don’t want a chaperon, you have to act like you don’t need one,” Steve had said when they protested.

And that was how Eddie ended up walking around the winter carnival with Steve, just the two of them.

The carnival was a decent size, with several booths of local artisans and artists selling their holiday themed wares, a midway with food trucks galore, a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round, and carnival games. There was plenty to keep them busy for three hours.

However, Eddie quickly discovered that just because the sun felt warm through the window at home, that did not mean it was going to keep him from getting cold after more than thirty minutes outside. Within an hour and a bit, Eddie’s nose, ears, and fingers were chilly, even with his hair down and his hands kept deep in his coat pockets.

But in the end, Eddie found it easy to ignore his discomfort because Steve was smiling so huge and so bright. Eddie would suffer literally anything, even torture, just to see Steve’s grin, whether it was directed at him or not.

Somehow, though, that happy expression was for Eddie, so he would be brave and not complain about the chill. They only had a little more than an hour to go, and at some point, Eddie could buy a hot drink to wrap his cold fingers around. He was fine, perfect even.

As it came up on four, and Eddie was clutching the biggest polar bear stuffie he’d ever seen (Steve won it for him at the game with the basketball hoops), Steve sighed and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist. Cuddling into Steve’s warmth, Eddie tilted his head onto Steve’s shoulder as they walked.

“How about we grab some mulled wine?” Steve suggested, turning his head to kiss the top of Eddie’s head and filling his tummy with a furious swarm of butterflies.

“Sounds perfect, big boy,” he replied with a grin, letting Steve lead him to the truck serving the mulled wine. There was a bit of a line, so Steve nodded toward one of the nearby fire pits.

“Grab us a seat?” Steve suggested, and Eddie nodded quickly, more than happy to sit in front of a fire after freezing his dick off for the better part of two hours. When Eddie went to pull away, Steve stopped him. “Goodbye kiss?”

“You’re a sap,” Eddie teased, even as he leaned in and kissed Steve’s smiling lips chastely. “I’m just going, like, ten feet away.”

“You love it,” Steve said as Eddie pulled away, and he was correct. “Your nose is cold,” he added with a grin, and Eddie laughed.

“Yours isn’t much better,” he teased before pulling away and hurrying over to the fire pit, immediately laying his polar bear across the bench to save their seats and holding his hands in the warmth of the fire. It almost hurt, but it also felt really good.

It was only a few minutes before Steve stepped up beside Eddie, leaning close as he offered him one of the little disposable cups. Without hesitation, Eddie stooped to kiss his boyfriend sweetly, grinning when Steve sighed.

“Missed you,” Steve said as he pulled away and beamed at Eddie.

“You were just over there for, like, fifteen minutes,” Eddie replied, his cheeks hot with his blush as butterflies swarmed inside his stomach.

Steve just gave Eddie his most handsome and crooked little grin. “Tell me about it,” he hummed, leaning back in for a quick smooch before holding up Eddie’s mulled wine. “Here’s yours.”

When Eddie finally went to take his cup, their fingers brushed briefly and Eddie made a soft noise at how hot Steve’s fingers felt against his. The other man must have taken his own gloves off while purchasing their drinks.

“What the hell?” Steve asked as his hand flinched away, his expression a bit horrified when his gaze met Eddie’s. “Eds, why are your fingers so cold? How long have they been like this?”

Eddie could feel his cheeks heat with the intensity of his blush, and he shrugged. “Kinda… since we got here?” he said a bit sheepishly and Steve made a small sound of disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been giving yourself frostbite and not—I’m rounding up the kids, we’re leaving—” Steve started, and Eddie quickly shook his head.

“No! Don’t! I don’t wanna ruin their fun,” Eddie insisted, and Steve scoffed.

“And you losing your fingers isn’t going to do that?” he asked bitchily, putting a hand on his waist and raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not cold enough for that and you know it,” Eddie replied flatly. “Seriously, Steve, I’m going to be fine. I have a hot drink, a hot fire, and a hot boyfriend. I’ll warm up real quick right here.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he considered Eddie’s words and when he opened his mouth to speak, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Max,” he said, frowning a bit as he answered. “Hey! What’s— why’s everyone yelling…? So, no one’s hurt but…? Okay, let me get this straight,” Steve started, smirking a little bit and rolling his eyes at Eddie. “You and Jane are done hanging out with ‘smelly, stupid boys’ but you want me to call in five minutes and end everything early…? What’s in it for me, huh?”

Eddie snorts and sips at his mulled wine, shuffling backward to the bench and scooping his polar bear up into his lap while Steve hummed noncommittally as Max spoke.

“Hmm, I’ll consider your offer closely. Eddie’s been giving himself frostbite this whole time anyway, so I was about to call it anyway,” Steve finally said, ignoring Eddie’s indignant squawk. “Yeah, the butthead didn’t wear any gloves. Do I still have to wait five minutes…? Perfect, we’re at the fire pit near the mulled wine stand… Yeah, the one close to the gates. See you soon.”

Eddie pouted at Steve as he hung-up and sat down next to him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled, relaxing as Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him closer.

“Hey, Max wanted to be rescued from the boys anyway. If anything, I’m doing her more of a favour than you,” he said flippantly, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Sure, whatever,” Eddie said, and within seconds they could hear the noisy approach of the gaggle of preteens.

The ride back to Steve’s was a whirlwind, with Steve insisting on dropping Mike, Lucas, and Dustin off at their homes first, even though they had to circle back on their route to drop Max off at Jane and Will’s house. The moment they dropped Dustin off and it was just the three kids in the back, Eddie immediately understood the inefficient route. Near-silence immediately fell in the car, the only disturbance being the Christmas music quietly playing on the radio as they drove.

“Holy shit, I think my ears are actually ringing,” Eddie commented, and Steve snorted.

“You get used to the shrill din of Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson arguing at the top of their lungs,” he replied, and Max scoffed at that.

“No one gets used to that, Dad,” she argued, and Eddie could see her smirk when Jane and Will giggled at that.

Finally, once they were child-free and back at Steve’s house, Eddie felt ready to crash on the couch and maybe pass out for a little nap. But of course, Steve had other ideas.

“Nuh-uh, you froze at the festival I dragged you to, so I’m gonna make sure you get all warmed up,” Steve insisted, dragging Eddie into a kiss that he refused to let Eddie deepen.

Despite Eddie’s best efforts, Steve was apparently on a mission to actually warm him up. It wasn’t just a euphemism for getting Eddie upstairs to his bed or anything like that.

Instead, Steve drew Eddie a bath in the huge soaker tub in the master bathroom, complete with a fancy bath bomb and even fucking candles. To drive home that this wasn’t about sex, Steve kissed him sweetly, chastely and said, “Enjoy your bath. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he was in the tub, luxuriating in the warm, lavender-scented water, before Steve poked his head inside to let him know that dinner was served. But the bath did the trick, warming him to his core and leaving him feeling loose and relaxed. Sleepy almost, but not completely exhausted like he had felt when they got home after the festival.

‘Wait, not home. To Steve’s house,’ Eddie corrected himself internally, getting out of the tub and slipping on the fluffy bathrobe Steve had said he could use while he was over a couple weeks ago. There was also a pair of slippers that Eddie had left by accident when he spent the night months ago that Steve had placed with the robe.

Downstairs, there was a fire going in the fireplace and Steve was setting out two plates of the meal he prepared on the coffee table. Steve had also gotten changed into his own bathrobe at some point, and that had Eddie struggling with the urge to confess his love right then and there.

“What?” Steve asked and Eddie blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized he was staring, or standing there for so long.

“Nothing, just admiring my amazing boyfriend, that’s all,” Eddie replied with a giant grin, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders to pull him into a kiss. Once again, all of his attempts to deepen the kiss were thwarted until Steve pulled away.

“Eddie,” he warned, his tone light but the scold in it was obvious to Eddie’s ears. “Dinner first.”

“Haven’t you heard the saying, though?” Eddie challenged lightly, grinning against Steve’s lips as he placed another kiss on them. “Life’s short, so eat dessert first?”

“What did I say, Eds?” Steve asked instead, his tone full of that firmness that Eddie found himself craving more and more often.

With a sigh, Eddie replied, “Dinner first.”

“That’s right,” Steve said with a pleased hum as he stepped out of Eddie’s embrace and motioned for him to sit on the couch.

They ate their food in comfortable quiet, nothing but logs crackling in the fireplace breaking the silence of Steve’s living room. Usually, such quiet would be excruciating for Eddie, but with Steve it felt natural, perfect even. Like it was safe. Quiet moments with Steve never made Eddie feel like he had to fill them with chatter or noise like he would with most other people.

By the time they were done eating, Eddie felt so relaxed he was close to dozing off right there on the couch with his plate in his lap.

“Let’s get you upstairs and tucked into bed,” Steve hummed, standing up and holding his hands out to help Eddie to his feet.

“The dishes…” Eddie pointed out, but Steve just kept tugging him along behind him.

“They can stay right there for one night, Eds,” he replied as they climbed the stairs.

It wasn’t long before they were cuddled up under the covers on Steve’s bed, robes and slippers discarded on the floor next to the bed, and holding each other as they kissed softly, sweetly.

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked quietly without pulling away. “Warmed up?”

“Definitely,” Eddie replied, eyes fluttering as his body lit up under Steve. “Feeling so warm.”

“Mm, I bet,” Steve chuckled, finally deepening their kiss as one of his hands wandered over Eddie’s chest, down his abdomen, and toward his hip. Before Eddie could dream of whining about being teased, Steve shifted his weight and his thigh pressed between Eddie’s legs. At Eddie’s choked off moan, Steve sighed and said, “Yeah, definitely feeling warm now.”

“Stevie, please,” Eddie whispered against Steve’s mouth as he fought the urge to rut against his thigh.

“You’re not too tired, sweetheart?” Steve asked, and Eddie could hear the genuine concern in his voice.

“Never too tired for you, babe,” he replied easily, and he absolutely meant it. Then he sheepishly added, “it might have to be just this, though, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, that’s okay, Eds,” Steve replied, pulling back to meet Eddie’s eyes as he shifted until he was settled between his legs. “So perfect when you tell me your limits, baby.”

The praise hit Eddie hard in the gut, heat pooling south so quickly he felt dizzy with it. Spreading his legs wider to wrap around Steve’s waist, Eddie moaned when they slotted against each other like matching puzzle pieces.

They rocked together like that, lazy and relaxed, making out softly until Eddie was squirming underneath Steve.

“What do you need, baby?” Steve asked in a whisper, rolling his hips a bit more determinedly, dragging a flurry of whimpers out of Eddie’s throat.

“Need t’come,” he gasped, arching against Steve and whining when Steve worked a hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around both of them. “Please, Stevie, m’so close.”

“Me too, Eds,” Steve groaned before capturing Eddie’s lips again in a sloppy, hungry kiss. Just when the coil in Eddie’s gut pulled so tight it was almost painful, Steve whispered a gentle, “come for me, sweetheart.”

Just like that, Eddie spilled between them, making a mess of both of their stomachs and Steve’s hand. When Steve didn’t stop his rocking and stroking, Eddie whimpered almost pitifully, begging Steve to come so the exquisite, perfect torture of overstimulation would end. After only a few more strokes, Steve came with a cry so sweet, Eddie felt tears spring to his eyes as he threw his arms around his boyfriend, refusing to let him go.

They held each other, panting and kissing each other sloppily for a long time, just long enough for the mess between them to become tacky and unpleasant.

“I’ll go grab a cloth, okay?” Steve said with a laugh, carefully getting off the bed to avoid smearing anything on the linens or comforters.

Eddie watched his beautiful boyfriend disappear into the ensuite, feeling warm and floaty, taken care of, and treasured. When Steve returned, Eddie knew he was looking up at the man with the sappiest, lovesick gaze if the way Steve’s cheeks turned pink was anything to go by.

“What?” he asked with a little smirk as he carefully wiped the warm cloth over Eddie’s lower abdomen and softened cock.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie replied, “I love you.”

Steve froze and his eyes met Eddie’s with a fierce intensity that would’ve terrified Eddie if a grin didn’t split Steve’s face a second later. It was huge, bright, and absolutely goofy with the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was Eddie’s favourite Steve smile.

“Even though I prefer Christmas over Halloween?” Steve asked in a voice that was so happy that Eddie couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of his own chest.

“Hey, you might’ve made a convert out of me,” he confessed, winking at Steve’s shocked gasp.

“Are you serious? I made you a Christmas lover, too?” Steve pressed, tossing the cloth in the general direction of the ensuite so he could lay on top of Eddie.

“Yeah, just as long as I get to spend it with you and Max,” Eddie replied, reaching up to tuck some of Steve’s hair behind his ears. “As long as you and Max still want me around.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Eds, because I intend to keep you as long as you’ll let me,” Steve hummed, dipping his chin to capture Eddie’s lips in a slow, searching kiss before whispering against his lips, “I love you, too.”

And, yeah, Eddie was pretty sure Christmas was going to become his favourite holiday and stay that way for a long time. Maybe even forever if his luck kept up.

[themidnightcrimson]

Mentor—part one. | w. maximoff

summary: in which you are wanda's young newlywed neighbor, and she graciously offers to mentor you on wifely duties.

warnings: 1950s!wanda, top!wanda, innocent!reader, magically enhanced strap, strap sucking (r giving), riding (r receiving), manipulation, corruption, let's pretend they had straps in the 50s, my coochie was niagara falls after writing this

this post is for 18+ only. minors: do not interact.

masterlist.

Manicured fingers pushed the thin curtains to the side as green eyes peered through the window. It was the first time Wanda had ever seen you. She saw your husband first, stepping out of the driver’s side of the car before going to the trunk and picking up one of the many boxes that were stuffed in there. She noticed that the For Sale sign planted in the front lawn of the house had a big, red sticker slapped across it that read SOLD. Then she saw you.

You stepped out of the car wearing a pretty green dress that was short enough for the breeze to flitter it up your thighs. Your red lips parted in a smile as you embraced your husband, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him before he turned to take the box inside as you took a smaller one out of the trunk.

Wanda was always friendly with her neighbors but not close with them. Agatha was her closest neighbor, although that was not from Wanda’s end of the friendship. But when she watched you walk up your driveway to your newly bought house right across the street from hers, then stop and slowly turn around, your eyebrows sewed together as if you knew someone was watching you, she couldn’t help but let her interest pique.

Wanda was quicker to get close to you than she was with any other new neighbors she had before. She brought you casseroles and cakes and invited you to barbecues and dinner parties. When you attended a pool party at Dottie’s house and wore such a teasing one-piece swimsuit, she found herself obsessing over you every minute of the day. As she kissed Vis goodbye every morning, she would watch you kiss your husband goodbye instead of watching Vis’ car leave like she usually did. When she would fold clothes and wash dishes, she wondered what you looked like doing the same. She started to call you nearly every day when both of your husbands were at work. She would keep you on the phone for hours, asking you questions that started to become more and more personal.

Your husbands also got close. Wanda always got excited when you and your husband would come over so the men could drink and watch TV while you and Wanda prepared dinner in the kitchen. She realized quickly that you were quite young and still a newlywed; you’d gotten married right before moving in across the street, which was only a month ago.

Wanda also learned that you were quite an innocent little thing.

“W-what?” you choked on your lemonade that Wanda had made extra sugary for you since you were a ‘sweet girl’. Her question had taken you off guard so that you had coughed mid-sip of your lemonade, the drink splattering down your chin.

Wanda quickly leaned forward from where she sat rather close to you on her sofa, wiping the lemonade off your chin and lips. “It’s just a question, sweetheart,” she said in a comforting tone as she licked the lemonade off her fingers. Your cheeks burned more at the sight of her red lips sucking her finger than at what she had asked you.

Wanda had asked about your sex life. You figured that was probably common for housewives to talk about amongst one another. Your husband was outside helping Vis repaint the picket fence around their front yard, so it was just you and Wanda alone.

“Um,” you began, your heart beating hard in your chest as Wanda calmly watched you. Her red hair was made into perfect curls that rested around her neck, her deep red lips taut as she waited for your response. Wanda had taken you in under her wing as the new couple in the neighborhood, and you had appreciated her guidance and her friendship. It was the only real friendship you ever had, in fact, since you had gotten married off so soon in your adulthood. But Wanda seemed to get very personal sometimes, and sometimes she lacked an understanding of personal space. You had lost count of all the times she had let her hand rest on your lower back for lingering moments. She was very touchy—always grazing your arm or touching your hair. Recently, she’d gotten comfortable enough to touch your face, whether it was caressing your cheek or wiping lemonade off your lips. You weren’t quite sure how to voice your concerns about the closeness of your friendship, but Wanda was older and wiser and certainly had more girl friends than you did; so you went along with all of it in your shy, timid way that Wanda found incredibly endearing.

“Our sex life…” you breathed, lowering the icy cup of lemonade to your lap as your cheeks blushed. “Well, it’s, um…” you began, before you looked back up at her. “Isn’t that thing sort of… private?” you chuckled nervously.

You were afraid you had possibly pushed Wanda away or made her feel uncomfortable that she had offended you, but she only grinned and tilted her head. “No, darling, women talk about those things together all the time! Go ahead, I’m all ears.” She lowered her head, and you didn’t catch the darkness under her brow.

“Well, it’s…” you said again, shifting on the sofa and trying to figure out what you wanted to say. “It’s not very…good.”

Wanda’s brows sewed together in concern. “You mean the sex?”

Your entire body was heating up due to the explicit topic of your conversation. “No—I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m as…experienced as he is.” You glanced past Wanda to see your husband through the window, crouching by the fence with Vis. It was true that you had been harboring an insecurity about your ability to please him. You’d never been with anyone before him, and in your month of marriage, the few times you had been intimate with each other always fell below the mark. You had expected great passion and pleasure, but all you got were a few thrusts before he rolled over and went to sleep.

“Oh, honey,” Wanda cooed, reaching forward and placing her hand over yours. You startled at the touch as Wanda scooted closer to you so that you were almost touching. “That must be so difficult, especially since you haven’t been married that long at all.” You nodded as she moved her hand to your hair, tucking some of it behind your ear. There were a few moments of silence before she suddenly said, “You know, I think I have a great idea.”

+

Wanda planned it all so perfectly. She set up a hunting trip between Vis and your husband that would put them hours away in the forest for a whole night. They were to leave after dinner and return at lunch the next day, with Wanda preparing dinner and you preparing lunch for them to pack. Your hands trembled the entire time that you cut the sandwiches and packed them safely in brown paper—you were entirely uncertain about Wanda’s plan that she only vaguely explained to you.

She said she wanted to be your mentor. Since she was older, wiser, and more experienced, she said she had so much knowledge to offer you about the intimacies of marriage. You hadn’t quite caught her drift until she told you to stay the night with her while your husbands were gone so she could teach you some things—about how to please your husband. You expected her to have some sort of sultry magazine to show you, or perhaps she would simply sit you down while you had a private moment and tell you some tips or tricks. You never expected what Wanda really had in mind.

The four of you ate dinner at Wanda’s dining table, and you were silent for the majority of the time, too nervous to eat much. Wanda was cheerful and charming as ever, and your husbands took off once they were done eating. You helped Wanda to clean up the table, complimenting the dinner and helping her to wash dishes. You didn’t say anything about what was going to happen afterwards, nor did she, as if it was just a perfectly normal dinner between two women.

The time came when the kitchen was all cleaned up and the leftovers were put in the fridge, and Wanda turned to you. She smiled softly, reaching for your hand and taking it in her own. “Follow me, sweetie.”

You found it hard to breathe as Wanda led you up the stairs of her comfortable home, bringing you into her bedroom. It felt wrong to be there in such a private room that she shared with her husband, although it was just a normal bedroom with a perfectly made-up bed and a bathroom attached to it. Wanda kicked off her heels in the corner, and you did the same, feeling the carpet soothe your aching feet.

“Now,” Wanda sighed, standing in front of you and caressing your arm, which both soothed your nerves and worsened them. “You told me that you’re a little…innocent in the area of…wifely duties,” Wanda said her words carefully, having to stifle the crawling smirk on her lips as excitement whipped within her. Her heart was beating hard in her chest with anticipation as you stared at her nervously. You were so young and so innocent, and while she had felt a swirl of guilt when she made this devious plan, she assured herself that she was only being a good mentor to you—even if it was to her own greed and fascination with you.

“So, I’m going to mentor you tonight,” she continued, rubbing her palm over your shoulder and letting it cup the side of your neck. “We’re going to pretend that I’m your husband, and you are your own pretty little self,” she said quieter, and the casualness with which she spoke made your face go red. This couldn’t be normal, you thought to yourself, but you reminded yourself that Wanda knew so much more than you and that you should trust her.

Wanda looked over your face for a moment before she suddenly leaned closer. You froze, confused at what she was doing, until her breath fanned across your mouth and her lips pressed against yours. It was a fleeting kiss, because you jumped away from her touch and placed your hand over your lips, eyes wide.

“Wanda!” you exclaimed as your lips buzzed from the brief kiss that had you instantly feeling so many different, confusing things all at once.

“Sweetheart, relax,” Wanda purred with a smile as she neared you, placing her hand back on your neck. “I’m your husband, remember?” Her hand settled on the curve of your waist, and a wave of heat passed through you all at once. “Surely, you kiss your husband, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered as you looked up at her, the room starting to spin. “But—”

“Shhh,” Wanda shushed you, pressing her red fingernail against your lips. “How am I supposed to help you learn if you won’t let me teach you?” she whispered lowly, leaning down close again. You held your breath as you felt her lips graze yours, your varying shades of lipsticks mixing as she tantalized your lips. Something about this felt so wrong that you were about to crawl out of your own skin, but something about it also felt so right as Wanda pressed her lips against yours fully, her eyelashes tickling your cheek as they closed.

You were like a statue as Wanda moved against your frozen lips, until she pulled away to whisper against them, “Kiss me back… kiss me like you kiss him.”

She gave you a moment to nod before she kissed you again, and this time you moved your lips against hers. You had never thought much about how you kissed your husband, but in that moment, kissing Wanda, you considered every move and felt desperate to kiss the right way, the good way, in whatever way made her pleased.

So caught up in trying to kiss her well enough, you didn’t notice that your lips turned hungry and the kiss fiery. Finally, Wanda pulled away, and you instinctively chased after her lips until she gently kept you away with a hand on your chest. She looked down at you, smirking, and you realized you had completely ruined her lipstick that was now smudged all across her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, shrinking within yourself at embarrassment over being too eager.

Wanda shook her head and cupped your cheek. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was great. You’re very good at kissing.” Her voice sounded strained as she discreetly licked the taste of you from her lips, and you worried that you had made her uncomfortable.

You blushed under her stare as she slowly backed away from you towards the bed, sitting on the very edge. “Undress,” she simply commanded you, and the order made you stiffen.

“Undress?” you echoed.

“Mhm,” she hummed, something glinting in her eyes as she stared at you.

“Completely?” you squeaked. Only your husband had ever seen you naked before, but even with him you had never undressed in front of him while he watched.

Wanda nodded, letting her palms rest on the bed as she leaned back and crossed her legs, squeezing them rather hard together. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s part of the lesson.”

She was right. Did you expect her to just kiss you forever and suddenly you would be perfect in bed? Hesitantly, you started to unbutton the buttons of your dress, one by one, noticing the way Wanda’s eyes followed your fingers. You took in a deep breath and let the dress slip down to your ankles, revealing your frame dressed in only your undergarments now. Wanda’s lips parted at the sight, but when you made no motion to take the undergarments off, her perfect brow arched high on her forehead.

Complicitly, you reached to your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before you slipped your panties down. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and you resisted the urge to cover your private parts as you stood completely nude in front of Wanda who sat on the bed and darkly watched you, eyes raking down your figure as she sucked her tongue. Finally, she filled the silent air between you. “You are beautiful.”

Not letting too much of her lust for you show, Wanda snapped out of her trance and motioned for you to near the bed. You complied, following her finger until you stood right in front of her. Wanda eyed your body with hunger as she placed her hands on your waist, letting them glide upwards and turn inwards at your chest, taking both of your warm, soft breasts in her hands. Alarms blared in your mind at the touch, though it was not because it was uncomfortable, but rather because your nipples hardened at how much her gentle touch pleased you.

“You are so perfect, sweetheart,” Wanda breathed, and you wondered why she seemed as on edge as you were. She squeezed your tits, which caused you to let out a tiny squeak that made her smile. “Does he tell you how pretty you are?”

Your face grew even hotter at her compliments. Your husband had of course complimented you every now and then, but he never admired you with his eyes the way Wanda was. He never touched you just to feel you and appreciate you. He never had to control his breathing while letting out his compliments to your beauty. You had never felt this way before.

Wanda let her hands fall down the flat of your stomach, turning outwards to slide around your hips and down your backside, stopping to gently grab the hills of your ass. Your breath hitched at the feeling of her warm, soft hands grabbing you, and the way that her eyes seemed to darken by the second.

“So perfect,” she mumbled under her breath as she moved her hands to your thighs, gliding upwards until she let one hand slip between them and cup your heat. You jumped at the sudden contact that felt rather intrusive, but Wanda just marveled at how wet you didn’t even realize you were. “My, my,” she whispered as she soaked her fingers in your wetness, and as her fingers brushed your clit, you felt the heat in your face drop to your stomach and blossom there. When her fingers started to move towards your entrance, your hand involuntarily snatched her wrist. Her eyes flickered up to yours again, seeing the hesitant look on your face. “Trust me, sweetheart.”

You needed to trust her if you wanted to learn—you knew that. Although you kept your hand on her wrist, you loosened your hold, allowing her to slip one finger inside you. You heard Wanda gasp as your eyes closed at the penetrative feeling. She let her finger submerge deep inside you, curling it and swiveling it around to feel every inch of you.

“You are so tight,” Wanda groaned, using the next few silent moments to simply feel you.

Then she dragged her finger out and, to your utter shock, slipped it in her mouth. Your mouth fell open in surprise when Wanda’s green eyes fluttered shut and she let out a sensual moan as she sucked on her finger that was coated in your arousal.

“W-wanda,” you stuttered, and she opened her eyes and removed her finger to look at you, licking the remaining taste of you from her lips. “I’m really appreciative that you’re trying to help me, but… How is this going to help me better please my husband?”

Wanda gave you a warm smile and stood up, taking your face gently in her own. “I was getting to that, sweetheart. Stay here—I’ll be right back.”

You watched as Wanda disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The room feeling cold and quiet now, you sat down on the edge of the bed and hugged your body. Was this normal? Was this wrong? Why was Wanda able to get you wetter and more riled up than your own husband? How would he feel if he knew that Wanda had seen you and touched you like that?

Before you could further dissect the complexities of the situation, the bathroom door opened. When you looked up to see that Wanda was standing there completely naked, except for something strapped onto her hips, your mouth fell open.

Wanda’s eyes ate you up predatorily as she sauntered towards you, but your eyes were stuck on the long, thick thing between her legs. “What is that?”

Wanda neared you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Some call it a… marital aid. It’ll help me teach you how to make your hubby feel good.” She was getting tired of having to refer to your husband to get you to cooperate, as she wanted to just have you all to herself. She didn’t want to scare you away though, which was also the reason why she went into the bathroom so she could snap her fingers and use her secret magic to enhance the strap-on dildo.

You eyed the thing fearfully as Wanda crawled onto the bed and sat against the pillows, spreading her legs a little bit as her strap pointed upwards. She tapped her thighs and gave you an assuring smile.

More curious than anything, you crawled up the bed towards Wanda, and once you had gotten over the object between her legs, you couldn’t help but stare at her nude body. She was so beautiful and so perfect, and she giggled when she noticed the way your eyes trained on her bare chest as you kneeled between her legs. Your cheeks blushed as you realized she had caught you staring, and although you felt the need to apologize, you felt that wasn’t the strangest thing about this situation.

Wanda reached out and stroked your hair as she began, “Tell me. Have you ever pleasured him… orally?”

Your eyes widened as you slowly shook your head, feeling embarrassed that you hadn’t done that with your husband yet. He was more traditional and never did anything outside of missionary that lasted thirty seconds.

Wanda smirked, excited to be the first one to have your mouth. “You do know what I’m talking about, right?”

You nodded from under her hand stroking your cheek. “I’ve heard girls talk about it before…”

Wanda nodded and then placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you down. “Lay down on my lap, dear.”

Slowly, you lowered until your elbows were laying across her thighs, and her strap was inches from your face. You looked up at her doe-eyed, noticing the dilation in her pupils. You didn’t know that Wanda about to feel everything she was going to make you do.

“Okay, now just put your mouth on it,” she told you, unable to find any better words for what she wanted you to do. You looked at her hesitantly, so she gently stroked your hair. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’m going to teach you how to use your mouth.”

Nervousness filling you, you opened your mouth and placed it around the large object, closing your lips only a few inches down it. Your mind started to process the fact that this object was much larger than your husband.

Wanda had to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning at the sensation. Cradling your head, she recovered herself to tell you, “More, baby. Put it all inside.”

Obeying her, you lowered your mouth down and down, trying to take it all in until the tip suddenly hit the back of your throat, inducing you to gag. Scared, you instantly removed your mouth from her, looking at Wanda with frightened eyes that involuntarily watered.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Wanda assured you, leaning forward to give you a kiss that, admittedly, calmed you down. “Go slow, my love,” she whispered, leaning back again and guiding your head back towards her strap.

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that you needed to be good to please. So you opened your mouth and slowly took her length into it again, and when you gagged again, you tried hard to keep your mouth on it.

“Good girl,” Wanda said in a rather breathy voice. “Now suck.” Her hand was tangled in your hair as you suctioned your mouth, and you felt her fingers tug on your hair.

“G-good,” she breathed, “Now move your mouth up and down, okay? I’ll guide you.”

Her hand guided you by your hair to move your mouth up and down her cock, and you didn’t stop to think about how she could have felt you sucking. Each time the tip hit your throat, you silently gagged, and after a few minutes, your face was covered in tears and saliva.

“So good,” Wanda breathed, letting her eyes close as she felt you suck her off. She had been so curious as to how your mouth would feel, and now that every glorious inch was inside that warm, wet mouth of yours, she was in heaven. Your hair looked so pretty splayed across her thighs, your ass on display as you kneeled forward, the way your face had grown red and wet from your tears. She was lucky that you weren’t looking up at her when you started to grow comfortable and suck even harder, swirling your tongue around her length, because the look on her face was pure pleasure.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” she told you, and she couldn’t help but thrust her hips up a little into your mouth, listening to the sounds of you choking on her. She was struggling to control her breathing, and when you noticed and lifted your head to ask her what was wrong, she pushed it back down, lodging her cock deep into your throat. “You’re doing so good, sweetie,” she choked before she could no longer speak, having to bite down on her hand to restrain her moans as she came in your mouth, hips stuttering as her hand harshly tugged your hair.

Nearly blinded from her orgasm, Wanda quietly panted as she came down, watching you still work her strap, oblivious to the fact that you had just gotten her off.

“Alright, that’s enough, sweetheart,” Wanda said, and you lifted your mouth off her cock. She could have came again just at the sight of you, lips all red and swollen, saliva covering your chin, tears glistening on your bright red cheeks. Some of your mascara had melted around your eyes, and you looked so perfectly ruined. But she wasn’t done with you yet, not when she finally had you doing everything she asked. She was greedy, especially when it came to you.

“Hop up,” she told you, guiding you to sit up on her lap. She could feel your wetness on her thigh that had amplified while you pleasured her. She took a moment to kiss you, straightening your hair and wiping the liquids from your face.

“I’m assuming you have never ridden him?” she asked while her thumb swiped across your puffy lower lip, and you shyly shook your head. Wanda smiled at this also as she reached under you and took her wet shaft in her hand, letting the tip push against your entrance. Your eyes widened as you grabbed onto her shoulders. “It’s just the same, except you’re on top, doing all the work,” she told you as she swiveled the tip around your hole, her breath shaky. “This is very important for you to learn,” she said more firmly, and eventually you nodded in agreement.

She slid only the tip inside you before taking your hips and guiding them down. You hissed as her cock started to fill you, too focused on the stretch between your legs to notice Wanda’s subtle groan.

“It’s so much bigger than him,” you whined as pain filled you, but Wanda’s hands kept your hips under her control.

Wanda inwardly smirked at the compliment. “You can take it, sweetheart. Just keep going.” Wanda’s eyes fluttered closed when she finally felt herself all the way inside you, and it took all the strength within her to not flip you over and start fucking your tight pussy until it was completely ruined.

You whined and nuzzled your face against her shoulder, afraid to move your hips from the pain. Wanda, though eager, let you sit still for a moment, trying hard to keep her own hips still. Eventually, she started to guide you up, and you struggled through the pain as she slowly slid you up and down her length.

“You’re doing so good, sweetie,” she purred, again thankful that you weren’t looking at her as her mouth fell open. She let you go slowly for a few minutes until she could tell you were getting used to the pain. Wanda was growing way too frustrated, so she breathily commanded, “Ride me—faster.”

Lifting up from her shoulder, you noticed a strange look on Wanda’s face. Nonetheless, you did as she said, moving your hips on your own. Her strap was so deep inside you that as the pain melted away, pleasure throbbed within you. The stretch that previously hurt now felt like euphoria as you started to bounce on her strap, catching your own rhythm.

Wanda was about to go mad from having to control herself and her expressions, gently rubbing your lower back to make sure you felt okay as you started to ride her. She watched in adoration as you let out little moans, your eyes fluttering closed. She felt your walls clenching and throbbing around her, and you were so slick and wet that your juices dripped down on her thighs.

“Just like that,” Wanda gasped, letting out a guttural moan that made your eyes snap open.

“Wanda, what’s wrong?” you asked, assuming that the expression on her face was one from pain. You started to slow down, but she grabbed your hips and forced you to keep going, and the pleasure that brought you made you completely forget everything else.

Wanda thrust her hips upwards in motion with your own, fucking you so hard and so deep that your vision started to grow splotchy. You felt this strange pressure in your lower stomach, your insides starting to pulse and tingle as if something was about to happen.

“Wanda,” you pleaded, tapping her shoulder. Her eyes were closed in a concentrated look as she fucked you onto her strap, taking complete control. “Wanda!” you exclaimed, and she finally opened her eyes to look at you with concern. Worried she was really hurting you, she was about to stop until you said, “I feel like I’m going to pee.” You said it with such conviction and embarrassment that she almost laughed, until she realized that you had apparently never orgasmed before, not from yourself or your husband.

“Shhh,” she shushed you, thrusting up even harder. “It’s okay, just keep going.” She was starting to sweat, and you could see the glisten on her forehead as her cheeks reddened.

All thoughts of how this was going to help you please your husband left your mind as that pressure grew strong within you. You squealed and buried your face in Wanda’s neck, losing all inhibition and throwing your arms around her neck as she kept fucking you. Finally, that pressure broke, and pure bliss washed over your entire body. You couldn’t control the shrieks and moans that left your lips, and Wanda couldn’t control her own as she came inside you, her hands bruising your hips as her thrusts stuttered. You felt fire all over your entire body, but it felt so amazing. It was like there were a hundred heartbeats all going at once inside you, and when you finally started to calm down, you had never felt more relaxed.

Whatever had happened to you had happened to Wanda also, because when you pulled away to look at her, she looked just as spent and out of breath as you were.

Remembering the situation, Wanda regained her composure and grinned at you. “Good, very… very good.”

You let your finger wrap around one of her red curls, and Wanda grinned up at you. You felt something… different. As you thought about going back to your husband and doing with him the things Wanda had done with you, you didn’t want to do it. You had never felt with your husband the things you had felt with Wanda in your short time together. You didn’t even want to leave her arms, whining when she started to move to get up.

Surprised, Wanda leaned back down and snaked her arms around you. “You don’t want to get up?”

You shook your head, just staring at her as if she was a new creature you had never seen before. Not even having to ask why you were staring at her so, Wanda just held you closer to her, keeping herself inside you as she whispered in your ear, “I can’t wait to show you so many more things.”

[rustedhearts]

sentimental reasons (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: sunday afternoon musings in autumn.

uses she her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring ✶

tags: pregnant!reader, fluff, that’s about it.

sentimental reasons - nat king cole

hawkins, indiana, october 20th 1996

“I wonder if she’ll have my eyes.”

“Hmm. I hope.”

Steve’s lashes tickled the tip of your finger as it delicately scaled the soft tissue of his eyelid. His lip quirked, nose twitching when you came to trace the slope of it: bent sideways by brutal fists barreling into cartilage. But once, it was smooth and straight. No matter how crooked or left-leaning it was these days, you still found it handsome.

“Hope she doesn’t get stuck with that,” Steve snorted, and you frowned as you smoothed your thumb over the swollen bridge. “Hope she has her mama’s.”

Steve lifted his hand from where it rested on your stomach to bop your nose. You smiled, fingers pushing through the long tresses framing his face. You had been reclining on your back for a few hours now, late-term pregnancy responsible for consistent exhaustion and sore ligaments. It felt like the whole of you existed in the front, and sometimes you worried you were walking on a forward slant.

The house smelled like the slowly-browned roast your mother brought you, warming in the crockpot; the sweet aroma of brown sugar carrots and the bitter snap of celery. From your open window: damp earth and the musk of goldenrod leaves. It smelled like home.

Cheek pressed gently to your stomach, chapped hands feeling for flutters and kicks, massaging your aches through a faded, stretched-out tee: Steve. He smelled like a morning Marlboro—faded and nipped away by the wind—and the woodsy vanilla of your laundry detergent. He smelled like Steve. He felt like Steve: warm and firm and lovely. Cocooned between his half-pressed weight and the softness of the comforter, you felt you could’ve lied there for the rest of your life.

You closed your eyes and listened to the leaves rustle in the afternoon. The distant babble of youthful laughter. The whoosh of rubber on asphalt at thirty-five miles an hour. The crunch of bike tires over the pile of leaves Steve raked and then left on the tree lawn so he could tend to you.

He heard your silence from the front yard. He felt your ache.

“It’s funny,” Steve murmured, eyes wide and alert, finger trailing a path down the roundness of your bump. “I never thought I’d be here. Never thought I’d have…another part of me. Like this.”

He flattened his palm to rub across your belly, spreading a blissful massage that had you shifting. Expelling a breezy sigh, you blindly tucked a patch of hair behind Steve’s ear. Soft, just-shampooed: vetiver and musk.

“She’s all ours, baby,” he whispered.

The room swayed in the stillness. Like being cradled in a lullaby, gently rocked to sleep by one dreamy, autumnal afternoon. You felt like you were floating, gently bobbing to the rush and recede of the sea.

"Kinda scary to think about," you returned a moment later, just as quietly. You peeped your eyes open to find Steve's face.

Smoothed into mindless relaxation, he watched his own hand lift over the mound of your bump. Back and forth, over the swell and down the valleys. His wedding band caught a spark of pale afternoon light: thick silver tungsten around his ring finger. Unbreakable. Irreplaceable.

Work got in the way of him wearing it often, but on long weekends like this—when you slipped away from the busy, sunny California life for a slice of small town America back home—Steve slipped the ring on and never took it off.

He liked seeing it on his hand. He liked hearing it clink with yours when you held hands at night. He liked seeing them together—your ring, his ring—and knowing: this was eternal.

"God I hope I don't fuck it up."

You tipped your head on the pillow, craning to find Steve. You gently scraped your nails over his scalp, watching them create gaps in his mop of hair.

"You won't," you cooed. "No more than all the other parents."

Steve's lips curled into a pursed smile, handsome and boyish. Your chest stuttered a moment.

"Thanks, angel. Think 'm just nervous," he sighed, words tight between his teeth with his chin pressed to your belly.

You shifted again, socked feet rubbing his sides. "Me too. My mom said she used to throw up just from nerves right before she had me, but I think I turned out alright."

He breezed into another grin, a scoffed laugh shooting from his mouth. "Yeah."

You twirled a strand of hair near his brow around your finger. It curled into shape, tickling his eye.

"Wonder if my mom was nervous with me," he whispered.

You took pause, scanning the surface of his face. His eyes flicked away from your stomach toward your own, and he instantly scoffed and shifted on his stomach.

"Ah, shit, sorry. That was—sorry—"

"Baby, hey," you awed, reaching down to cup his face. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to wonder."

Steve halted a moment. Staring at you, head risen from his place on your center body, eyes a little rounder and wider and laced with pleading. Softened and sweet, you flashed him a small, reassuring smile and scratched your nails against his scalp again. He slowly sank back down, rubbing his cheek against your clothed belly.

“‘Kay,” he murmured.

“Wanna talk more about it—“

“No, baby. Just…wanna talk about names.”

You giggled. “Names?”

You could see the coil of his mouth from here, how the side of his face lifted with the small quirk of muscle.

“Yeah. Been thinkin’ about what we’re gonna name little Harrington.”

Your heart swelled to double the size, aching in your chest. You could barely contain the burst of adoration blooming with a pulse.

“You have?”

Steve’s finger made a zig-zag trail on your belly again. “Mhm. So…let me see it.”

You blinked, brows etching together. “See what?”

Steve turned his head, hair dragging across your belly and flouncing from his face. “The notebook.”

You clapped your hands together with a giddy grin. You’ve kept a notebook of baby names since your first sonogram. You knew you were getting ahead of yourself, and there were chances the pregnancy wouldn’t stick—but all you could think about was what you’d name your child. When you found out it was a girl, that you’d have a daughter, the notebook immediately became a place of scribbles and exclamation marks and highlighted stars.

Interestingly enough, when you started to show a bump beneath your clothes and required more assistance for daily tasks, Steve swapped roles with you as the worrier. He helped you up and down stairs, poured your cereal, made you smoothies, cut your steak, and did his best to do the cleaning exactly the way you did it.

Steve was terrified you’d lose the baby, and that it would be all his fault.

For some reason, naming the baby felt like “jinxing it” to him.

“Really, you wanna see it?” you squealed, capturing your lip between your teeth.

Steve chuckled, a deep, grumbling sound that shuddered through you. “Yeah, baby.”

“Okay good, because I can’t get up.”

Steve chortled, shifting on his stomach to press a kiss to your belly, wide hands spanned on either side. He wiggled off the bed and headed toward the door, rounding the corner toward the library room.

The Hawkins house, made the Harrington residence circa 1994, had a gorgeous, oak-shelved room full of first editions and signed copies. Steve spared no expense when it came to your little corner of the house, where he often found you curled up in the window seat scribbling in a journal, or scanning a book. You had a desk against the wallpapered wall, where a type writer from 1935 found at a flea market in Virginia sat with every intention of good use. Steve hated the sound of your clacking, but you said the sound was “transcendent.”

Steve padded into the room, blanketed in a pale grey darkness as the sky muddled with rain clouds. The window came to a peak in a rounded arch, wet with old rain drops from last night’s shower. Collections of leaves from the oak tree looming in the yard congregated on the glass in groups of yellow.

He found the notebook on the desk beneath your piles of paper, all full of ink. Steve fought the urge to filter through it as he returned to the bedroom.

You struggled to sit yourself up, wobbling on your palms like doing the crab walk. Steve flung the notebook toward the bed and rushed to your side, hands at the ready.

“Baby,” he huffed, hoisting you toward the pillows at the headboard, which he fluffed adamantly as you settled back. “Wait for me.”

Your eyes rolled, though you were already out of breath. “I had it.”

He shot you a pointed look through narrowed brows, and fumbled for the notebook at the edge of the mattress. He settled beside you, and as the air followed his motions, you caught whiffs of damp soil from his time outside this morning.

“Okay, open it,” you insisted, voice wavering with delight.

Steve flipped the spine open, revealing the first lined page of paper with your familiar writing.

“Jesus Christ, honey,” Steve drawled, pulling the notebook back an inch to take it all in. His eyesight had been slipping for the past year and a half.

He needed glasses, but refused to wear them.

Cheeks swelling with warmth, you tipped your head over to get a peek of your work. “I had a lot of ideas.”

"And they're...alphabetized," Steve commented, tone thick with amusement.

"Obviously."

Steve scanned the list of names, eyes shuttering half-closed and popping back open like a camera lens. The ones he didn’t like got a screwed up face in response. Steve had a headache by the time he got to the fourth page, and the names weren't stopping.

Only few caught his eye: Alice, Caroline, Catherine, Eloise, Emma, Lily, Josephine, Jane, Winnie.

As he continued to scan, he found himself pairing the names with his own surname. Alice Harrington, Catherine Harrington, Lily Harrington. None had the ring he thought they would.

"Do you have a favorite?" he asked, flipping pages again.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you gently skirted the pads of your finger over the warm skin of his forearm. You trailed them to the bone of his knuckle, feeling the purple veins protruding beneath the flesh, plumped from overexertion.

"Mhm," you hummed. "But I don't want to sway you."

Steve turned his head, lips brushing your temple. "It's Jane."

You lifted your head so quickly that it knocked Steve's chin, and he tongued away the pain with a wordless grimace as your face bloomed with warm thrill. You gazed at your husband in delightful wonderment.

"How did you know?"

"It had five stars next to it."

You giggled, warmth increasing. "Oh."

"And," he added, head cocking to pop a kiss on your cheek. "I remember you mentioned that name before. Back when we were still dating, talkin' about kids. You said you always loved the name Jane, and if you ever had a girl, that would be your top choice."

Looping your arm around Steve's, you squeezed him close and nuzzled his neck. "Oh, Steve, you are so hot right now."

Steve's laughter was sharp and surprised, and he snapped the notebook closed to toss it aside. Hands free and desiring your touch, he gently pulled at your legs until you reclined flat on the bed again.

"I know."

Mounting over you with an agreeable and cautious space between his body and your bump, he pressed a gentle pepper of smooches to your face. You ran your hands across his chest, playing with the silver chain around his neck, thin and linked.

"So...Jane it is?"

Steve pulled back, eyes flicking between yours. His features were soft, a sharp contrast to the scars and bruises they regularly carried. He brushed the back of two fingers across your brow, guiding your hair away.

"Jane it is, my love."

♡ ♡

[agirlcandream84]

Silly Beast | Henry Cavill One Shot

Henry Cavill x Reader 

Word Count: 1,702

Edwardian Era AU 

Overview: This is an awakening story -- Henry has a sexual epiphany and steps into his true role as a dom.  

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI.  Smut, p in v, dom/sub, slight praise kink

Henry sat perched at the small kitchen table, the spring breeze wafting in through the small window in his line of sight.  The behemoth of a man made the dinette set seem miniature by comparison-- the spread of his thighs nearly demanding the chair to buckle beneath him.  He seemed not to mind or notice as he sipped an afternoon cup or tea and leafed through the paper.  

Like the trill of a bird, the sound of his wife’s laughter floated through the window, his lips curling into a smile before his eyes located her across the expanse of their lawn.  She stood barefoot in the grass, dressed only in her cotton shift as she pinned the freshly laundered clothes to the line.  A local cat wove it’s way through her legs, making a figure 8, its whiskers tickling her calves and shins.  

Her hair was pinned atop her head, tendrils tumbling down, as was the style.  The breeze and a mid-morning nap in the sun left her hair softened and her cheeks and nose freckled.  After two years of marriage, Henry still found himself pining for his wife like a schoolboy.  Her beauty was apparent, yes, but her kindness and her innocence felt everlasting.  Despite two years of bedded marriage, she maintained a virginal innocence that often befuddled Henry.  

He watched as she fell into a steady pattern- bending into the basket, shaking the wrinkles and pinning the clothes to the line.  The rhythm of it lulled him, his tea turning cold and his paper left unread.  The breeze was parting the clouds, the sun streaming onto the vast green lawn.  

The sun cast his wife in near-silhouette, making apparent her godly form beneath the thin shift.  Henry watched as she continued the wash, a content smile on her face.  Bending into the basket, he now saw the ample swell of her ass and the gentle weight of her breasts.  As she stood to whip the cloth against the breeze, her breasts jiggled beneath the shift-- a bareness in a way he’d somehow not known in his wife. His gaze felt carnal.  

He watched intently as she continued, the sun making her shift disappear as the breeze made it cling to her curves and angles while her face remained placid and virginal.  It was an erotic revealing of her body to her husband.  Every bend, every whip baring her body for what it was -- a temple of pleasure and desire.  His dominion.  

Henry shifted in the small chair, his cock now steely and straining against his trousers.  He breathed a cooling breath through his nostrils and ran a roughened hand through his hair.  Beneath his growing desire was a whisper of shame.  Shame to see his wife so bare.  The same wife he had kissed and loved and spilled his seed countless times.  And yet he had never seen her so exposed.  He felt what he can only describe as animalistic desire.  A flame tearing through him, propelling him to lay claim for what felt like the first time.

He stood with power propelling him, the chair clattering to the floor behind him.  He marched through the small door frame, ducking to accommodate his size.  She saw his approach, a small smile on her face to greet her gentle husband.  

“Hen?” she asked as he continued his purposeful march, slight confusion spreading across her face.  “Henry, you silly beast, what’s come over you?” she asked with a laugh as he drew near.  

“You’ve come over me,” he nearly snarls, taking the cloth from her hand and letting it fall into the grass.  His hands encircle either side of her face and his mouth devours hers.  Her form softens, her hands finding his broad chest and melting into it.  

“Henry” she mumbles between kisses, “Henry, what’s going on?”

 “Quiet dove,” he growls, his hands snaking over the delicious curve of her ass and pulling the backs of her thighs toward him, lifting her off the fragrant grass and wrapping her legs around the thickness of his waist.  

“Hen!” she shouts in shock, fear spiking through her at her husband’s newfound command.  Henry was always an attentive but gentle lover.  He never wielded his size or power and she didn’t recognize the man whose cock she felt growing beneath her.  

*********** 

You clung to his neck as he stalked toward the house, like a hunter coming home with his game.  Your heart hammered in your chest as Henry crossed the threshold.  Despite his alarming dominance, you felt yourself grow aroused at his power, yearning to be taken, to be claimed.  

Henry carried you to your small shared bed and placed you down, unlacing your arms from his neck.  

“Henry can you please explain what’s going on?” you asking but the question goes answered.  He is singularly focused on freeing his angry, hard cock from his trousers and when the job is complete, he deftly tugs the thin cotton shift from your body and over your head.  His hands immediately find your breasts and massage them forcefully as his nostrils flair with desire.  

“Henry please,” you say again, your wetness now clouding your resolve to set your husband right.  You clamp your thighs together, ashamed that he may bare witness to your carnality at his bruteness.  

“You’ll call me sir,” he commands you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time.  

“I.. wha.. Hen..” you stammer, confused at his command. 

“Say it.  Call me sir,” he commands again, his voice unfaltering.   

“Yes sir,” you whisper instinctively and you know that you’ve become his in a way no marriage vows have ever dictated.  You’re his, completely and bodily.  

“That’s a good dove.  Now let me see your wetness,” he demands.  Your face flushes crimson, his naked crudeness almost unbearable to comprehend.  You shake your head timidly, the idea of baring your slick wetness so plainly feels unthinkable.  

“Now dove,” he commands again, walking on his knees to nudge your legs apart.  His hands fall on either knee and press firmly but gently until your legs are spread open to their fullness.  You bury your face into your shoulder, shame burning through you.  

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, his thumbs massaging your inner thighs and circling lower towards your slick petals.  He relishes in the sticky wetness, marveling at your submission.  Your breath quickens as his thumb lands on your nub, gently drawing circles that build the heat in your abdomen.  

“hen,” you mutter, shame making way to desire.  

“Ask for it,” he commands you. 

“hen please,” you beg.  

“The right way,” he corrects you.  

“please sir,” you respond instantly, your hips grinding into his hand, your canal clenching desperately on nothing.  

At your submission he grabs the base of his cock and buries it deep, to the hilt, in your slick pinkness.  Once seated, he pauses, the weight of his lower body baring on you.  You feel him so fully that the breath nearly leaves your lungs.  You realize with clarity that Henry has spent your two years of marriage restraining himself.  Loving you gently.  Tenderly.  But never with the full force of him.  Never so unbearably fully.  

He begins pumping, pulling out slowly to ram in quickly and pausing when he’s seated.  Each punch forces you up the length of the bed, your breasts bouncing.  Your hands grasp for purchase at the iron bed frame to steady the blows of his force.  Your eyes are squeezed shut, managing through the pleasant sting of his stretch.  

“Watch dove.  I want you to watch,” he says, his abs tensed as he perches his form above you and his cock within you.  

“hen no, I can’t,” you reply, the idea feeling unholy and crude.  

“you can and you will,” he replies, firmly guiding your chin forward.  You obey and open your eyes, shocked at the massive girth of his cock as it punches you deeply.  

The sight leaves you panting, the flame licking deep within your gut.  Your head falls back on the feather-down pillow and you pant for him, “oh henry. henry harder.” 

“Ask me again,” he grunts, demanding your submission.  

“harder sir, please,” you nearly squeak, his dominion alighting a passion you never knew.  At your obedience, he quickens his pace, punching so deeply you feel a pleasant stinging in your gut.  Carnal rage drives him, ramming so intensely you’ll bruise by morning.  The flame licks bigger, alarmingly so, within you.  Henry feels the gentle clench of your canal and takes a hand from your knee and flicks your nub as he punches his cock into you. 

At his touch, you nearly scream, the air leaving your lungs and the coil near snapping.  His leans his body over yours to better increase his speed, building a friction only matched by his deft thumb circling your clit.  

“Cum now dove,” he grunts, demanding you to unravel.  You fear the release but can’t escape it.  

“yes, s-sir,” you barely mumble.  Your bliss tears through you, a savage scream emerging from your lips and a stream of warm liquid gushing out of your pinkness and coating his cock.  You body quivers and trembles while he continues to spear you.  You attempt to close your knees but he pins them open, demanding to see the whole of you while bliss overcomes you.  

“That’s a good dove,” he coos, his gentle manner a juxtaposition to his forceful pumping.  He grunts on each pump, nearing his own completion. 

“please sir, fill me up.  fill me with your seed,” you beg, feeling near intoxicated by his savageness.  You want his sticky seed to fill you whole.  To carry it within-- the purest conclusion to your supplication.  His eyes find yours as his own bliss tears through him, his heavy, thick streams of seed coating your walls and threatening to burst past the seal of his cock.  

He shudders as the last of him is released inside you and makes three gentle pumps to ensure his seed buried deeply.  He grabs the base of his cock to guide it out from within you and runs his thumbs over your swollen petals, pushing his mess into your clenching hole.  

And he is a man changed.