#tippy paws

[cocopudu]

just a bundle of retro ponies 🦄🌟

[shadydays047]

im gonna do a little tippy tap dance watch this

*does a little tippy tap dance*

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Not quite what you described in the post but I couldn't make it work that way, and actually I misread it at first so the plush being on Roxy's head is a mental image I have now anyways and that's fun too.

YEEEEESSSSS AMAZING

This is now what she does when she wants to carry around a lil comfort guy but her paws are full. They get to sit on her head.

Which is funnily enough, where the mini Music Men Poppet and Glow like to alternate being. Bsjdndk they just jump up to her head to get comfy in her fluffy hair but! Someone's already there! How DARE someone else take their spot! Oh it's just a plushie? IRRELEVANT! Tippy? SUMMON THE HORDE WE ARE GOING TO WAR!!!!

[hells-favorite]

MORE TIPTOE CONTENT

[cypric-rat-hyperfixation]

Stims y'all do when you're happy

[wander-over-the-words]

I’m one of those people that likes to lay on a flat surface when I’m having an Episode™ and my dog has learned to identify the sound of me laying down on the hardwood floor in our kitchen, so whenever he hears me lay down, he comes running and hovers over me to check if I’m crying or anything

then he just. lays down beside me and refuses to leave until I give the all-clear that I’m okay and I just love this pup so muuuch 😭😭💙💙😭💙💙😭😭💙

[theghostiedyke]

:) got to meet my coworkers cat yesterday

[eyefocusing]

32

32. Who are two characters you'd like to see interact more?

ROBBIE AND DOREEN a genuine speedball+squirrel girl teamup would be SO FUN and i think the true civil war loss was that it immediately ended whatever was starting to happen between them. think of the potential of these two interacting. in a silly goofball but Now We're Both Slightly More Mature And Also I'm Over My Celebrity Crush On You kinda way. idk i just want this soooo bad. theres precedence for it and everything. theyve even both got animal companions. its perfect

[cocopudu]

a pair of brothers 🚀🐾

[just-jordie-things]

I know he's not your favorite but consider... #73 with Itadori... short reader has a crush on him but is too afraid to confess bc she knows he likes tall girls lol I think this could be super cute

kiss prompt 73: height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

a/n: first time writing for itadori !!! ___

if you had to think about it, you'd had a crush on itadori yuuji since the day you met him.

after getting a call from megumi where he'd begrudgingly asked for your help tracking down a cursed tool that some spooky-loving school club had snatched before he could, you hadn't expected things to take the turn they did.

as soon as you'd run into the pink haired boy, it was like a daze took hold of you. megumi honestly could have believe you'd been poisoned with how you stammered over your words and moved awkwardly. he'd never seen you so out of it when exorcizing curses. you were sloppy, defensive maneuvers delayed, offensive maneuvers... megumi would have gotten the job done better when he was ten, so, let's just leave it at that.

but nothing would have stopped itadori from eating that finger, and, well, we all know what happens from there.

you were surprised with how quickly he adapted to an entire world he'd never known the existence of. he was an avid learner, eager to train, eager to educate himself. he was always asking you questions that megumi found silly having grown up in jujutsu society, but you'd been happy to talk to him for hours about the ins and outs of it all. that was how your friendship began to blossom, you supposed.

it was easy to crush on yuuji. he was kind, handsome, silly, and had a warm energy about him that just drew you to him like a moth to a flame. even with your harbored feelings for him, being around him was easy, and comfortable. you'd only known him a few months, but the way he treated you made you feel like you'd been close friends for years.

however, due to how close you'd gotten, you were well aware that you were not his type. he'd joked a few times about how he liked tall girls like jennifer lawrence, and you didn't exactly meet that standard.

after he'd casually let that information slip, you found yourself comparing the height difference between you two more often. it was no shock that he was taller than you, you could remember the first time you'd met him you'd tilted your head back to stare up at him- your eyes had been blown wide like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. he'd just leapt through a window like it was nothing and fought alongside you like his entire reality hadn't just flipped upside down- but now that he'd made his ideal type clear, you'd frown when it would dawn on you that you were barely even an average height.

you'd stand up a little straighter when you were standing before him, but even still you'd tilt your chin so you could look at him properly. he'd noticed the sour expression on you a few times, but you always brushed it off as something else. it felt sort of childish to tell him that you were upset for not being taller.

it's one afternoon that you're out shopping with the other first years that you finally tell him the truth. not that you'd planned to, of course, you were ready to take this secret to the grave.

but you're wandering around with yuuji, half avoiding nobara who was on a rampage and throwing armfuls of clothes at megumi, and half looking at the display of silly hats. some of them were cute, but most of them were pokemon themed, or beanies with funny saying.

yuuji had excitedly picked up a fluffy pikachu hat, complete with the tall ears, and fluffy yellow flaps that hung down your face, ending in paw shaped pockets that you could stick your hands into. he was grinning as he turned to you to tug the hat over your head. you had half a mind to scold him for ruining what was a good hair day, but you keep it to yourself. he looked too happy to have you model the accessory for him.

and you'd thought it was cute, at first. then you take note of how he has to stoop over to reach your level in order to properly adjust the dorky hat, and you're made aware again of how short you are in comparison to him. of how small in general you are compared to him. his tall stature complete with broad shoulders and biceps that were starting to display how hard he'd been training himself- as appealing as he was to look at, you're frowning due to your own self pity.

and when he's done playing with the droopy ears on top of your head and sees the look on your face, he's frowning, too.

"what's wrong?" he asks, quietly, worriedly, like a good friend. "you don't hate pikachu, do you?"

it makes you laugh, even just a little bit, and yuuji gives you a small smile in relief that his joke worked to ease your sad expression, even just a little bit.

"no, it's not pikachu," you huff, pulling the hat off your head and placing it carefully back on the mannequin. "i'm just short"

his brow furrows, assuming at first that he'd heard you wrong, but when you don't say anything else and give him an awkward shrug, he realizes you're serious.

"so?" he asks, chuckling to himself. "what's so bad about that?"

you avoid his gaze while you pretend to take interest in the other hats on the wall, despite you not being a hat person, which he knows.

"it's pretty dumb" you say, running your fingers over a fluffy sylveon cap that was similar to the pikachu one.

"try me" yuuji smiles at you, leaning into the display to catch your attention again. his smile reaches his eyes, and he seems to genuinely hopeful to ease your foolish concern, that you find yourself giving in.

"promise not to laugh at me?" you mutter.

he raises a hand to his chest, drawing an x over his heart before raising his palms towards you in silent promise. you crack a smile at how serious he's taking this.

you take a deep breath before confessing the thought that's been plaguing your mind for the last few weeks.

"i know you like tall girls," you say, staring straight ahead at the sylveon hat like it had been the object of your desire for our entire life. "and i know i'm not even close to being called tall,"

yuuji blinks a few times, his brows raising as he processes this information.

you were upset because you didn't consider yourself his type? did he understand that right? so this was because... you wanted to be his type?

"well, maybe a fifth grader would think i'm tall," you began to mumble to yourself. "but that doesn't really make me feel better-"

"you think you wouldn't be my type because you're so short?" he cuts off your rambling, and she turns to him with a bewildered expression.

"well you don't have to put it like that," you mumble with a furrowed brow. "kinda makes me feel worse-"

"(y/n), i promised i wouldn't laugh," he cuts you off again, stepping forward to wrap his hands around your shoulders. "but that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard!"

you frown up at him, not comforted at all at his attempts to make you feel better.

"you're really bad at this" you tell him, and he begins to break his promise as a few giggles escape through his toothy grin.

"are you kidding?" he teases. "you're the cutest person i've ever met!" he reaches his hands up to your face, squeezing your cheeks together playfully. "i don't want you to be any taller, i like you just the way you are!"

your face begins to heat up under his touch, and with his hold on you, you have no choice but to stare back at him, only making your blush burn hotter.

"you are my type, even as a tiny lil' tater tot," he says, and despite his laughter, you can tell he's being completely genuine. you can see it in the shine in his eyes as he stares at you. "that doesn't matter. what matters if you're a really awesome fucking person, and a badass"

the knot between your brows begins to relax and your lips curl into a smile at his sweet words.

"you're not just saying that?" you ask quietly, just to be sure he wasn't spewing out bullshit just to make you feel better.

yuuji laughs at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling from pure joy. he doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to say anything else.

instead he leans over you, bending almost dramatically to reach your short stature in order to press his lips against yours. it's a short kiss, but it's sweet, gentle, warm- all things yuuji.

when he pulls away, before he can stand back up properly, you're shooting up to the tips of your toes, your hands flying towards his shoulders for balance as you return his kiss. it's fast, eager, curious- all things you. he can't help but smile against your lips as he drops a hand from your face so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you close.

you both distantly hear a harumph! from a passerby in the shop, having forgotten you were still in public. you pull away with sheepish smiles and pink cheeks.

"you are short though" he tells you point blank.

"i know, yuuji" you huff.

"but i like it" he says proudly, and you turn away so he won't see how your blush is spreading down your neck.

you still notice the significant difference in your height often, but it's mostly due to yuuji pointing it out every time he bends over to kiss you from there on out.

___

a/n: i love him sm it's criminal that i haven't written for him :'( xoxo ~ jordie

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader epilogue - a slow burn series of blurbs

Heaven Knows You Better ~ epilogue

summary: A glimpse into the future.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: none, just pure fluff 🧡 a slight mention of drinking a margarita.

authors note: I know you’re tired of hearing me say it, but thank you 🧡 writing this story and sharing it with you will always hold a special place in my heart.

🌆 <- chapter ten

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Three summers later - Beginning of May

The sun hangs bright in the deep blue sky, the air a little crisp from the last bit of the chill still leftover from spring. The heat of summer is just barely on the cusp of breaking through, you can feel it in the way the city starts to come alive again. The red ‘TEAM ALS’ banner blows in the wind as your shoes and Bandit’s paws cross the white finish line. The clapping of strangers on the side lines fills your ears, tugging a smile onto your slightly chapped lips, before you turn around to look at your fiancé. 

Steve can’t help his grin back, the whites of his teeth showing when your smile stretches wider at the sight of him. The bottoms of his black running shorts flap in the breeze, revealing more skin at the tops of his thighs that still lights a match deep inside your gut. You don’t think you’ll ever be immune to him. The white socks on his feet are pulled up to his shins, the color of his On Clouds matching the banner above you. The polyester of his dark gray Nike running sweater fits tight across his chest, the zipper on its high neck being tugged by a set of golden blond puppy paws.

“I told you Molly wasn’t gonna make it all the way,” he huffs, a laugh threatening to bubble past his lips when the rambunctious labrador starts licking his stubble covered cheek, pushing up the bill of his black Nike baseball cap. 

God, you’ll never not want to kiss him.

“She made it more than half way, give her some credit Steve.” You roll your eyes and he’s proud to say that’s the third one he’s earned today. The first being in your barely unpacked kitchen when he snuck up from behind to blow a raspberry on your neck while making coffee in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You weren’t the one who had to carry the extra ten pounds the last two miles, were you?” He reminds you with a smirk, setting the wiggling puppy down now that she’s regained most of her strength back.

Bandit whines for Steve’s affections, pawing at him when he’s eye level, getting the scratch behind both ears he wanted. The German shepherd wasn’t the only one wanting his attention, and it takes everything inside you not to pout yourself when he stands back up and doesn’t immediately kiss you. Despite the chill, there’s still a sheen of sweat that coats his permanently sun kissed skin, the spice of his cologne becoming more pronounced because of it.

“Thank you for doing this with me baby,” the teasing edge to Steve’s voice is gone, replaced with something softer - made even sweeter as he pulls you closer by waist, his nose bumping with yours when you stand on your tippy toes hooking your free arm around his neck. Your fingers twitch to be in his hair, you hate his hats.

“I’ll do them all with you,” you whisper because it’s just for him, it’s always just for him. His cheeks dust pink like he knows it and his hold on you tightens.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” the words come out soft against your lips, his eyes meeting yours from down the bridge of his nose.

“Three months.” 

The reminder makes him close the space that’s left, smiling into the kiss. It still feels like a hundred butterfly’s wings flutter against your rib cage when your lips slot together like they were never meant to be apart. It’s hard to get lost in him the way you want to with hundreds of people around and two dogs that can’t seem to stop their play fighting, tugging harshly on their leashes at your feet. That doesn’t keep Steve from tracing your bottom lip with his tongue when the tips of your fingers find the flyaway hairs sticking out of the bottom of his cap. You giggle against his lips and he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed when you pull away, like he knows you both should because of it.

“Careful, might have to take you downtown right now if you don’t stop,” he teases, biting his bottom lip to stop from kissing you again.

“I don’t think Eddie would ever forgive you for taking away his opportunity to finally be your best man.” Running your hands down his chest, you can feel his groan vibrate under your palms.

“Don’t remind me.” Steve lets you go, finally taking his hat off to reveal a dirty golden mess on top of his head, long fingers running through it.

Bandit whines, nudging Steve’s knee with his snout before rubbing the side of his face against his leg, ignoring the way the puppy jumps and paws at his side.

“I think someone wants to switch.” You grin at the way Steve’s face softens for his favorite boy, offering you Molly’s leash in exchange without a word.

“Someone missed daddy, huh?” Steve asks in the kind of baby voice you know he picked up from you, but the reference to himself still has you clenching like your second date. 

Bandit barks in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you untangle the unruly puppy from around him. You give up quickly on letting her walk, picking her up just like Steve had, the wiggling weight of her in your arms has you biting your tongue about how heavy she really is.

“I think we’ve earned a margarita when we get home, right molly?” Hinting at Steve with a smirk tugging at your lips when you kiss the puppies restless snout - it's his turn to roll his eyes.

“Honey, we still need to pack. We leave for New York tomorrow at like nine A.M.” He runs another hand through his hair before putting his hat back on his head and you have to resist pulling it off as you both make your way through the crowd.

“Okay, we can pack and then a margarita… although packing might be a lot more fun after one. Just a thought.” You shrug with fake nonchalance, finally getting a grip on Molly in your arms.

“After we pack and drop off the dogs at Nancy’s.” Steve chuckles, moving to the other side of you so his free hand can find the small of your back, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the soft fabric of your oversized sweater. He could never go too long, he always had to be touching you.

“Deal.” Grinning, pleased with your promised drink, you push up on your toes to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek, heart swelling at the pink that dusts tips of his ears because of it. 

9:15pm 🌃

The first sounds of cicadas buzz low in your ears, another reminder that summer was just around the corner while the two of you sit on the porch swing. Steve had set up on the small deck in your backyard. It wasn’t big like the ones in the suburbs but it was just enough for Bandit and Molly to stretch their legs without a leash. The citronella candle that you swore to Steve would work, burns lemon and lavender into the matching dusk sky, still too early in the season to prove yourself right. The stars are still half hidden by the big tree in the corner of your yard that has started to sag from the humidity. Though a lingering chill still nips in the breeze and it has Steve pulling you deeper into his side. The pine of his body wash from the shower you took together just before this mixes in the perfect blend to make your eyes heavy and your heart full. 

“You think Nancy’s going to be okay with both of them for five days?” Your question comes out quiet in the calm, your cheek pressed to the cotton of his white shirt. The hard muscles underneath twitching from the warmth of your breath. The ice in your half drank margarita clinks against the glass when your wrist starts to get lazy.

“I think we’re going to have a very well behaved puppy when we get back,” Steve chuckles before relieving you of your hold, setting your cup down next to his on the deck.

You giggle to yourself at the thought, humming in agreement, when he takes the opportunity to really cuddle you now. A big arm wrapping around you while his hand finds yours so he can do his favorite thing. His chin hits the top of your head, and the tips of his fingers tickle while he twirls the diamond ring around your knuckle. You can feel the way his cheeks pull up against your hair, his lips a ghost against the crown of your head, always losing himself in the fact that you said ‘yes.’

“Did you pack the Cubs shirts I got for Gwenny?” Steve asks like he’s trying to think back to the mess of a packing session the two of you had in between stolen kisses and heated touches that always led to more. 

“That was the first thing you packed, handsome.” You squeeze his hand, the smirk on your face widening at how obsessed of an uncle he was for the newest addition to the Munson family. 

“Oh yeah, I remember now. They are under my dress slacks,” he mumbles, while the pad of his thumb rubs small circles under your ribs where his fingers curl around your side.

Cuddling deeper into his chest a comfortable silence falls between you, the cicadas buzz louder, mixing with the sounds of the city and you wish you could always stay like this, wrapped up in him and the glow of the moon that leaks through the shaking leaves on the tree above you. The silver band he twirls around on your finger makes you realize this is what he’s asking for. A forever of moments just like this one tonight, of first, of lasts, of fingers intertwined, soft touches, stolen kisses and whispered sweet words in the moonlight that feel even sweeter when he says them again in the sunshine. 

This is what forever looked like with Steve Harrington, and you always want to be his tough girl.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @chechelia

[lokisgoodgirl]

Mischievous Creatures [Brodinsons]

Part of the Brother Collection A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: A grumpy Loki is forced to pet-sit by Thor, and an unexpected friendship blossoms. (w/c 1.8k) Warnings: Fluffy bro-stuff. Generic dog description, runs on the small side. Mild peril.

Loki grimaced, gritting his teeth. His eyes squeezed shut while a hand flew up against the assault of intrusive sunlight. “Brother,” he hissed, groaning against the pillow. “Must you continually be such a harbinger of accursed agitation upon my-”

“-Ahhhhh!”

Thor released an infuriatingly cheerful sigh. His arms were spread, holding the curtains wide. “Tis’ a joyus day in this realm, brother. Can you smell it?”

Loki frowned, squinting towards the silhouette. “The window is closed, you cretin.”

Thor chuckled. “One does not require an open window to smell joy, brother. Indeed, it is all around.” He turned, the aura of confidence in that garish smile making Loki’s blood run cold. “Some may say...in this very apartment.”

Loki’s frown deepened. It was always concerning when his brother attempted to be coy. “What?!” he barked, suddenly aware of how dry his throat was. Truly, had the monstrosity of muscle woken him before nine? “We have a guest,” Thor cheered, “and I require my brother’s aid.” He paced several strides to the bed, swinging crotch coming alarmingly close to Loki’s face. Two meaty hands rested on his hips, fingers drumming lightly against thick sweats. He swayed back and forth expectantly. This was not a sight Loki wished to see before breakfast.

He pulled the duvet over his head, muttering curses before the sheet was ripped from his grasp. He stiffened, an unexpected chill making his body clench while his brother’s laugh ripped through the air. “Come, they’re waiting,” was all he managed to say, before there was a loud yelp from the living room.

“So this is a dog?”

Loki observed the creature with suspicion as it snuffled against the hardwood floor.

It had been going about its business for around twenty seconds now, paying no reverence or respect to the legendary beings in its presence. Loki’s scepticism grew. He was suddenly glad he’d worn his leathers. “Yes! And I broke up some biscuits your lady gave me on the floor for it to seek while I roused you. Charming, isn’t it?” Thor spoke quickly, and with an undeniable awe. The dog looked up expectantly, tail quivering. “I have no lady,” Loki griped, casting his gaze around the living room. A cushion from the immaculately arranged sofa had been rudely upended to the floor. Loki's eyes narrowed as Thor made his way obliviously to the breakfast bar. “Be that as it may,” the blonde said brightly, “this is the companion she speaks so often of.” Loki watched as the small creature trotted to Thor’s feet, looking up at him. Its tail was doing that thing again. “This is the rival for my affections which takes up so much of her time? I’m insulted,” he muttered. The dog’s paws tippy-tapped from side to side, impatient for whatever was in the bag Thor had begun rustling. Against his better judgement, Loki felt the side of his mouth twitch. He cleared his throat. “So. Why is it here, and what are we supposed to do with it?”

Thor scoffed, shaking his head with a smile.

Loki didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

“Your lady- apologies, not your lady; has been called on an unexpected mission, shouldn’t take long – usual sort of thing." Thor glanced to his brother, glee in his eyes before bending forward with his hands on his knees. "I volunteered to ensure the safety of this treasure of the realm in her absence. Yes I did! Didn’t I?! Yes I did!” The pitch of Thor’s voice traced higher with every syllable. Loki was horrified. It descended into mumbling saccharine inanities at the excitable being shuffling below him, which let out a small a-woo. “‘Treasure of the realm’, please...” Loki scathed as he sidled over to the sofa. He had been sure to give the unfamiliar being a wide berth. Who knew what it’s intentions were. It was, after all, a stranger.

His breath hitched as it suddenly looked in his direction, the flash of a tiny pink tongue taking him by surprise.

He had the sudden urge to call to it, to feel the rest of it’s delicate triangular face in his hands. Perhaps, even, to stroke it. He thought it might feel soothing.

With unnecessary gravitas, Thor produced a beleaguered looking plush animal from a small bag resting on the counter. It was pink and mint and blue; splotches dotted on a crusted physique. Loki thought it had seen a few battles of its own.

“Oh for heavens sake, what is that?” he groused as Thor began to shake it aimlessly in the air. The dog leapt up on it’s back legs, dancing excitedly. “Tis a llama, brother,” Thor chided with authority, “obviously.” “A llama?” Loki frowned. Thor shrugged. “I know not. But that is how your lady referred to it. The little thing is rather attached to it, apparently. I thought it best not to question further.”

Both brothers nodded in silent understanding while the creature began to chirp, bouncing in comical circles. Its front paws waved in the air, the soft underbelly looking undeniably tender and scritchable. “Well... throw it then,” Loki huffed with feigned impatience. He rested his chin on his palm. He would admit, reluctantly, that he was beginning to mildly enjoy this. In a ridiculous sort of way. Thor’s eyebrows rose. “Excellent idea, brother” he said, before lobbing the llama forth at full force across the room. Loki’s eyes widened. “Brother, no-” The dog followed its lightening fast arc, legs sliding out behind it on the floor in haste. Loki braced against the arm of the sofa as the plasterboard-covered wall exploded with an almighty crack. The stuffed toy may as well have been a cannonball. A huge mist of dust immediately flooded the living room, chunks falling from the wall.

“Protect the small thing,” Thor bellowed.

Without hesitation, Loki sprung from the sofa, caging the little dog in mid-pursuit beneath his torso. Debris hit him like a wave, white mass covering dark curls falling around his face. There was a frightened whimper beneath him, something solid smacking against his thighs with a heavy thump. His heart was thundering as the carnage settled. She will never forgive me, Loki thought with horror. He peered between his forearms to the dark cave his body had created.

There was silence.

“Does it live, brother?” Thor rasped, his choking voice panicked. Loki registered pacing footsteps hovering around him in a cloud of dust, regretful muttering and coughing peppering the air. His stomach dropped.

He could barely bring himself to look. So fragile, these mortals. Their familiars even more so, surely. Suddenly, something moist and round surfaced from the darkness and poked him straight in the eye.

“Gargh!” Loki spluttered, before the breath was stolen from him. He fell forward, forehead hitting the floor while an agile tongue delved deep into one exposed nostril. An assassin, after all. Loki rolled to the side, freeing the wild creature. “It lives!” Thor whooped ecstatically. But the moment was lost on Loki.

The ball of fur and limbs and squiggling was upon him, crawling like a demon of Muspelheim across his person. The thing was liquid. It placed its front legs on his chest, perfecting a position of strength while a deceptively long tongue continued the assault of his face. “Desist!” he spluttered, searching for purchase on its lithe, fluff-laden frame. And yet, the incorrigible creature could not be swayed.

The softness of the bacon-like protrusion tickled violently, but somehow...Loki found himself unable to catch his breath from the laughter shaking his chest. It ravaged his cheeks, his mouth, his nostrils - all in whirling succession with no obvious tactical rhythm. “Brother, make it stop-” Loki gasped unconvincingly, hooking his thumbs beneath the dog’s little underarms. His laughter, Loki surmised, acted only to encourage the creature. And yet, he could not collect himself. “Alas, brother I must attempt to retrieve the valiant llama from the rubble,” Thor chuckled, biting his lip at his sibling strewn across the floor. With a resolute grunt, Loki hoisted the creature in the air above him. It squirmed, wriggling all four legs erratically. Its rotund bottom was positively vibrating with excitement. “Look, brother...it flies,” Loki grinned. The dog’s mouth was open in a smile, aimless tongue licking the air. Still in search of his skin no doubt. The god sat up, drawing the squiggling bundle to his chest. It settled, the cup of his hand under its rear and the other snug to its barrelled chest seeming to calm it. Loki smoothed its whiskers, brushing a crumb of plasterboard from the tufts of its snout. He searched its eyes, deep brown pools bubbling and sparkling with life. And with mischief, he thought. Loki smiled. Without knowing why, he placed a tentative kiss on its upturned nose. It was fresh, and cool. The richest black. And somehow, Loki knew those were good things.

The dog’s tongue flicked out once more; a soft, solitary lick to the tip of his own nose reciprocating the sentiment. He felt unfamiliar warmth blossom in his belly, drawing the precious bundle closer to his chest. “I am glad you are well, friend” he murmured. “I can only apologise for my oaf of a-” “-brother! Success!” Thor cheered, holding the resurrected llama aloft like a battle trophy. If it looked beleaguered before, now it was tragic. The plushie was completely white, stuffing protruding from its head like a fatal war wound. He paced victoriously across the floor, holding it out to the dog nestled in his brother’s arms. Loki could swear the creature rolled its eyes.

“Do not presume to return its prize possession in such a vile state, brother,” Loki hissed. He dropped his gaze to the bright eyes gazing lovingly into his own. “Never fear small thing, Uncle Loki shall amend this abomination.” he cooed. Circling a finger, Loki enjoyed the perk of the dog's ears as the llama glowed green. In moments, its garish pastel glory was restored. “The crusted biological coating is gone too, brother…” Thor mumbled sceptically, inspecting it. “Was that important?” Loki jiggled the squishy package in his arms. Its front paws bounced. “Methinks that was enthusiasm from historical play; perhaps we should begin to restore it,” he chuckled, as the dog began to squirm with excitement once again. Loki tickled its belly. Thor frowned. “Do not get too attached, brother” he warned, “remember that this one is claimed. And by whom.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I am aware of that, brother” he snarked, before bending to carefully lower all four paws to the ground. He straightened. “But clearly the creature and I have an affinity. It cannot be denied.” Thor folded his arms, and Loki did the same. They watched in silence as the fluffy tornado fell upon the llama, beginning to prance in a parading circle around them. It dotted easily between the chunks of plasterboard, the plushie snug within tiny jaws.

Thor cleared his throat. “It is my belief” he began knowledgeably, “that the creatures have developed ways to trick mortals in favouring them. They are provided shelter, comfort, snacks and the like in return for being…” he gestured open handed to the floor, “thus.” Two sets of eyes assessed the inexplicable sight before them, rolling on its back with four wriggling paws flapping at strange angles. “Is that so…” Loki mused, smile widening as he lowered to his haunches. The dog flipped to stand, nails scratching against the floor in a race to meet him. That little bottom shifted side to side, overcome with indescribable joy at their friend’s return to the lower level. The llama bonked against Loki's knee, a helicopter-esque tail making his heart soar.

He gripped the llama’s sides, tugging gently before pulling it flush against his chest. The cheeky growl in the dog’s throat made him chuckle as he pressed a soft kiss to its forehead. “How mischievous,” he whispered, smiling conspiratorially against the tousled fur.

Tags ( **let me know if you'd rather stick with just smutty stuff - no offence taken!)

@meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @muddyorbsblr @literatureatthebowofnails

[neongreenllama]

padfoot dancing on his tippy toes when he's excited. padfoot clapping his ears back and wagging his whole body when he's happy. padfoot whining when he sees someone he loves. padfoot kicking his little massive paws when he dreams. padfoot sighing that heavy sigh dogs do. padfoot snoring when he sleeps. padfoot sniffing and licking people's faces. padfoot nudging people's hands so they pet him.

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Ten: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You

summary: you head home for the holidays with steve.

warnings: holidays are celebrated with family (left ambiguous); semi-public sex, oral and p in v; smut. (5k words).

modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington.

story masterlist

——

Days bleed into a week, and soon a week bleeds into a month and you’re once again getting on a plane, this time with Charlie in tow, headed to the place you called home before making your place with Steve your new one.

With your excitement bubbling up to the surface, you hop out of the car with your bags in hand, and Steve rushing over to help you with them, waving to where your sister stands and waves in hearty greeting. Your fur child bounds into the home with much preamble, giant paws rushing forward to crash into Caroline, standing on the front step slapping her thighs and shouting “Come here, boy!”

She basically ignores you as you enter, earning a little ruffle on the crown of her head from Steve’s fingers, which she swats away with little effort, beaming up at the man she’s only met a couple times now, and throwing her arms happily around his neck.

He chuckles, grinning widely over her shoulder as he hoists her up into his capable arms, locking eyes with you in your doorway. And if you didn’t already feel so much love toward him you could burst as of late, you would now.

Caroline is glowing. Grinning from ear to ear as he twirls her around and settles her down on the ground, those greedy eyes of hers locking on the bag Steve brought that’s quite literally full to the brim with gifts for family and friends.

“What’s in there?” she asks, bouncing on her tippy toes as you and Steve remove your jackets, Steve’s fingers waving to where your father rises in the living room. “Are those gifts?”

“Yes, but you’ll have to wait to open them,” Steve chuckles, reaching over to grab your hand and tug you beside him, brushing a kiss against your cheek. “Where should we unpack everything?”

“You’ll be staying in my daughter’s room,” your father explains, coming forward to hug you both. “Gifts can go in the living room. Dressers in the bedroom are cleaned out and the closet is empty too. Charlie boy, come with me while they get situated.”

“Your bedroom, huh?” Steve muses quietly as you walk through the home, suitcases rolling behind you down the hall.

“Yeah.” Your cheeks grow warm, a heat crawling up your neck swelling as his eyes meet yours. “Don’t make fun. It probably hasn’t changed since before I started undergrad.”

“Just wanna see where you grew up, is all,” he says, and there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve grown more acquainted with these weeks.

Grow acquainted with once again as soon as he enters, taking in the lavender walls, the dark furniture, your vanity. The bed is still as you remember, with white sheets and a plush comforter that your back meets as your husband pushes up against your chest, mouth sliding languidly over your own.

A hum spills from you before you can think any better of it, thighs falling apart to make space for him between your legs, throat bubbling with a moan as he rocks his already stiffening cock against the seam of your jeans, pressure just right against your clit. A vague awareness settles over you as those perfect fingers slide into the front of your jeans, seeking out your warmth, over where he finds you already wet for him.

“Steve,” you mutter breathlessly, head tipping back against a pillow as he kisses along your throat, “anyone can hear right now.”

He flops over onto your side, bringing you with him. Fingers glide up and along your thigh, settling in the back pocket of your jeans to pull you closer, warmth pooling where his skin touches yours through your clothes. Your forehead presses up against his, fingers tangling with his free hand.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Harrington.”

“I like it,” he muses, glancing about the room. “Weird to think of a time when I didn't know you. I’ll have to ask for all the old photo albums. Isn’t that what these holidays are for?”

“You wouldn’t,” you gasp jokingly, swatting at his abdomen with your entwined hands.

But he does. You spend that first night sitting around the kitchen table with Caroline nearly leaning over Steve’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of photos from your teenage years.

Most of which are full of braces and wide eyed youth. Eddie with his arms around your shoulders after graduation, Robin and the two of you on the hood of your first car. Dustin and you, when you babysat him. Later, pictures of you and Eddie with Dustin, Lucas, Max and Mike playing DND with the kids, their bored expressions and your overeager grin to try and compensate for their lack of enthusiasm.

Your father even pulled out the younger pictures. Years when your mother was still around, her smiling face, your parents with their two girls. Pictures of you and Eddie in the trailer park, your front teeth missing and his hair shorter, your knees scraped and muddy, and his jeans always torn and tattered.

After, Steve talks about his job while your sister dozes against his shoulder, having told him all about her TikTok page and showing him the endless videos she’s made. Your smile grows at the sight of them, his arm around her shoulders, the blanket you draped over her lap drawn tight around her body.

He seems at ease. Comfortable in a place he’s really only been in once. And when you later crawl into bed, with his arm slung low around your hip, there’s a stark understanding that this home was your home for the longest time.

Until you were nineteen and moved away for school, until you made a life for yourself in the city.

Now — now home resides in the man sleeping soundly beside you. Months ago, the thought would have scared you, made you want to run away from the immensity of it. Now, you only feel this tangible closeness. This understanding that as much as you are his, he is yours, in the way that feels untouchable. Wholly yours, and stronger every day that passes.

——

Snow falls over Hawkins throughout the night. Not the fluffy kind like in the city — the kind that turns to slush. No, it’s thick and wonderful and blankets the earth in a white halo, your sister’s excited laughter from down the hall rousing you from your slumber beside Steve.

A low yawn falls from his lips, the arms slung low around your waist pulling you tight against a broad chest, his nose mouth already finding its place near the curve of your neck, lavishing your skin in delightful kisses that have you wanting to fall back into bed with him over and over again.

But you know your sister, and you know her excitement over gift giving, and therefore understand that it’s only a matter of time before someone is banging on your bedroom door and demanding the two of you come into the living room to join her in her chaos she calls fun.

“Where’s Charlie?” Steve hums, rubbing at his eyes as you roll over in the bed, running your fingers along the lines of his abdomen. “I didn’t feel him by my feet.”

“I’m pretty sure your son betrayed you for his aunt,” you tease, winding your arms around his waist, chest brushing his as you lean in to give him a quick peck. “Good morning.”

He presses another longer kiss to your lips, smiling into your skin as he rolls you over until you’re straddling him. Thighs splay on either side of his hips, his fingers gripping at the dough of your thighs, rolling you over his already hard cock. It’s a tortuously slow drag, his head rubbing just so against your clit, eliciting a pitiful wine from softly parted lips.

A few more days — a few more days and you’ll be back in the city, and in the privacy of your own home. Until then, it’s wandering hands beneath the dinner table. It’s gentle brushes of skin as you ready for bed at night, a giggle as he pulls you into a room when no one is looking, ready to kiss the breath out of you. Simply trying to find moments where the two of you can simply connect.

Last night, it had been him tugging your sweats down and pushing your panties to the side. It had been his hand curling over your mouth as he slipped into you from behind, muffling your sobs as you quivered and clenched around his cock, stealing the very breath from his lungs.

“As much as I would love to watch you come on my cock right now,” he exhales, cunt throbbing as he tugs you closer so you’re laying on him. “I think I just heard your sister’s bedroom door open.”

“And we will hear a knock in…” You pause for a moment, pressing your hand to his sternum, “three…two…one.”

Three short taps echo through the bedroom, Steve’s hands there to help you up and off his lap as your sister hastily scrambles into the room, her nose wrinkling at the sight of the two of you.

Your legs are still in Steve’s lap, his hair a bit of a mess, and you’re certain you look interesting enough as well, tossing and turning all night without the comfort of Steve’s bed back home.

“I’m awake,” she grumbles, rubbing at her tired eyes as she walks the short distance to your bed, draping her body over your chest, just as Charlie hops up onto Steve’s lap. “Charlie doesn’t like to sleep, does he?”

“He’s just a puppy still,” Steve laughs, patting the dog’s head, his pink tongue falling from his lips at Steve’s affections. “But now you know why we asked if you really wanted him to stay with you last night.”

“Did you make coffee?” you ask her, exhaling as your hand runs up and down her back, Steve rolling over to teasingly shove her hand away when she pokes at his shoulder. “If you make us coffee, I’m sure Steve over here will let you open your presents from us.”

“Bribing your sister?” Steve gasps, mock aghast, a hand splaying over his heart.

“Done,” she giggles, rolling off of you.

Her feet hit the carpeted floor with a thud, legs carrying her out of the bedroom faster than she arrived. Charlie prances after her, his little yips and excited barking making your father shout down the hall for Caroline to calm down this early in the morning.

“Should we get up?” he asks, laughing at your muffled moan into his chest, face pressing against his sternum. “I wanna give you your present too.”

“Steve, we said no presents because we just had that second honeymoon —”

“I wanted to spoil my wife,” he murmurs, tilting your head up with a finger curling around your chin. “Let me.”

“You’ve spoiled me enough these past few weeks,” you tease, clambering off his lap, pulling off your ratty old tee shirt, his eyes zeroing in on your bare chest, before sliding a sweater over your head. “But seriously, Steve. Better not have been anything extravagant.”

He shoots a smirk your way, and you walk down the hall and out of your childhood bedroom, meeting your father where he sits in the living room, Charlie presently sprawling over his lap and trying to smother his face in wet kisses. Caroline has already separated the gifts into piles, coffee cups for you and Steve set out on the coffee table.

With a grateful sigh at that first sip, you both settle down onto the couch, watching as Caroline opens gift after gift from your husband. Things you hadn’t even known he’d purchased her.

“I bought her clothes,” you say a little icily, though there’s no heat to back the words up when you catch Caroline’s bright and beaming smile as she opens new ring lights and other technology for what you know is meant to be her growing TikTok obsession. “But — she seems to be enjoying herself…”

Steve curls his fingers around your shoulder, brushing a kiss to your temple as Caroline opens her last package, and within is a new iPhone. The latest model — and one of the gifts you allowed. She’d been needing one, her old one nearly on its way out. But it’s her reaction that has your eyes watering, her shrill screaming that nearly rattles the walls of the home, pre-teen throwing herself onto your laps with strangling hugs and screeches of thankyouthankyouthankyou.

Your father is next, with new wines for his wine rack, tickets to see one of his favorite music artists, and plane tickets to visit the two of you in the city. His mouth twists into a wobbly smile, his thanks a hug with his son-in-law that has you nearly melting on the spot.

You wonder briefly if Mr. Harrington ever hugged his son like this — even once. A giant bear hug, his arms locked tight around Steve’s back. It breaks your heart to know he likely hasn’t — that for so long the man who holds so much love in his heart it can overflow with it has gone without.

Especially from the one person who should have.

Can even see your answer on Steve’s face as he settles back down beside you. The look of pure joy across his features, uncontainable, and the line of tears building along his lower lashes you brush away with a gentle swipe of your thumb.

Clearing his throat loudly, Steve asks Caroline to pull out the small little box nestled by her kneecap. A box precariously shaped like a ring which has your name on it in beautifully curly calligraphy.

“Steve…” you mutter, a little breathless, heart in your throat as Caroline rests the box in your palm.

“Open it,” he says softly, mouth at your temple, arm around your frame as you pull at the box and open it to reveal a diamond band with a curve to perfectly sit around your engagement ring. “It’s just a little something. Look at the inside.”

And there, engraved in a sprawling font, are yours and his first name initials and the date of your wedding, and the words ‘I do’ beside that. Your gaze flickers upward, to the curve of his lips, and you’re kissing him. A breathless thing that has Caroline gagging dramatically, earning a scolding from your father.

As you pull back, Steve lifts the ring and you raise your left hand, watching his thumb graze your ring finger lovingly before sliding it in place. Three rings sparkle up at you, his hand still around yours as he kisses you once more.

“I’d do it again,” he says, and you know what he means. “I’d do it all over again.”

I’d do it all over again and marry you.

And you’d do the same.

——

The winter air chills you through your winter coat, boots clicking on slushy snow as Steve steers you through the parking lot and up to the Hideout. Recently renovated, and sprawling with bodies, intent on seeing Corroded Coffin for an exclusive hometown show.

The place is crawling with people — vastly different from the times you would sit on a barstool in the back and cheer on your best friends from high school, with only a few other patrons in the vicinity. You can’t think of anyone more deserving of this than Eddie, though. Years spent working his way up, trying to be the best at his craft, and now skyrocketed to fame.

Steve guides you over toward where Chrissy, Robin and Nancy are already situated around a table, all of which oooing and aaahing over Nancy and your new rings. Robin had finally gone ahead and proposed after months of living together. A small engagement within their own apartment, shared over glasses of wine and champagne and exactly what both wanted.

Chrissy is practically bouncing on her feet. Excited to see her new boyfriend perform for the first time. The actress looks stunning as ever in her all black dress that might be a little too formal for the crowd, but looks positively chic on her frame.

“I’m gonna go get us drinks,” you whisper, leaning up onto your toes to press a kiss below your husband’s ear. “Save my spot, will you?”

His hand is warm against your lower back as you slip through the crowds with sights set on the bar. The opening band has already started their set, the strumming of guitar strings greeting your ears as a familiar voice breaks above the crowd.

“What the heck are you doing in town, beautiful?” Chance asks as you approach the bar, coming forward without even a moment’s thought, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. “Thought you were a big shot veterinarian in the city now. Married too. I saw all the magazine articles at the supermarket.”

“Oh,” you laugh uneasily, rubbing your left hand unconsciously against your opposite bicep as the bartender asks for your orders. “Yeah, almost done with school. And yeah, married. Happily married.”

“You look great,” he muses, elbow dropping down to rest against the countertop. “Seriously. Just so crazy to see you here again. Seems like forever.”

“I pop in from time to time,” you tell him, heat creeping into your cheeks from his compliments. “I’ve been so busy it’s hard to get over here as often as I’d like.”

“How is your family? Gosh, how are you?”

And he’s beaming. Grinning at you in a way that reminds you of those early days of your relationship — when everything had been rose-colored glasses and champagne bubbles in your belly. But now you feel nothing, only the creeping desire to be back at Steve’s side, enveloped in his warm embrace, comforted by his mere presence.

Chance prattles on about his life. How he’s the new head coach at Hawkins High for the basketball team. You’re shocked to hear it, knowing he’s loved the sport for years now, brows rising at his words as he continues, the bartender seemingly taking forever to make your drinks.

But you laugh all the same at his jokes, feel yourself easing into the bar as he continues, the ghost of a smile crawling across his lips as his gaze roams over your features, before settling on something over your shoulders.

You shouldn’t be surprised when you feel Steve’s hand low against your back, nor should you be when his lips press against the crown of your head, his words stern as he says, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, I just need my wife to help me with something. Nice meeting you, my name is Steve.”

“Chance…” he trails off, just as you’re tugged away from the bar and down the back halls leading to the bathrooms.

Your mouth opens to protest, but Steve’s quick to quiet you with a rushed, “Get in.”

The door locks behind you with a harsh click, your eyes needing a moment to adjust to the yellowy light. His hands are on you before you can think, turning you to face your reflection in the mirror, just as his mouth descends on your throat. Your left hand crawls up your chest and onto his cheek, gentle hum spilling on a swift exhale as he sucks greedily at that spot he knows reduces you to a puddle, cock already hard against the fullness of your ass.

“Steve,” you whisper, turning around to face him.

Hands rest against his chest, noting the rapid rise and fall of his breath, the way his eyes are so dark they’re practically molten. And then he’s gripping you hard and fast. Fingers around the back of your neck, bringing your mouth to his in a bruising kiss, your feet pulling up onto your toes as you grip at his collar, dragging him nearer to you.

“He looked at you like he wanted you,” he murmurs. “Your ex, right? Don’t blame him, honey. You drive me crazy, you know that, right?”

He begins trailing kisses along the column of your throat, smirking to himself as he tugs the top of your dress down, sucking along the top of your breast, before dragging the cup of your bra down and trailing across your sensitive flesh. He breaks free from your nipple with a loud pop, mouth swallowing your unspoken words with another searing kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“Steve,” you rasp out hollowly, his fingers creeping along the hem of your dress, inching the floaty skirt up and up until he can feel the edge of your underwear, index and middle finger seeking out your already slick center. “Oh — nnng — been only a couple of hours.”

“And even that’s too long, honey.” He rubs lazy circles against your clit, relishing the way your body trembles in his arms, mouth curving up at the low whine that punches from you when he dips a finger in, opening you up for him. “Wanna kiss you here. Can I?”

You shouldn’t — you’re in a public place, you know that. But there’s something alluring about the image of Steve Harrington dropping down onto his knees before you that reduces your thoughts to nothingness, head dipping rapidly as you press your lower spine to the sink countertop for support, heart hammering loudly in your ears. He tugs your underwear down your thighs, the skirt of your dress ruffling prettily against your hips, tucking the lacy scrap of material into his back pocket.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” His breath dances along your core, hot and inviting, tongue teasing along your clit, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. Those hazel eyes look up into yours as he flattens his tongue and licks into you, murmuring, “Keep your eyes on me, baby” into your heated flesh. “Look at me.”

He’s an expert at this point on unraveling you. Has spent the better part of weeks fucking you against practically every surface of your home, learning the best ways to have you crying out his name. But there’s something salacious about it now — how he feasts on you in the dimly lit room, people outside, the sounds of your slick and his greedy moans spurring on your racketing desire.

Drives you closer and closer to the edge fast, chest heaving wildly with your panted, “I want your cock.”

He grips the backs of your thighs tighter, sucking on your clit until your eyes roll back in your head, fingers tangling in his hair tight. You’re jealous of his hand rubbing against his own cock, hard in his jeans, straining against tight denim, and you grip him tighter with a whine.

“Steve.” His eyes flicker up to your face as you shamelessly beg for him. “Need you to fuck me. Right now. Please.”

Never keen on making you wait, Steve turns you around, your hips bumping against the countertop, hands splayed against the cool marble. Behind you, you catch the image of Steve loosening the buckle on his belt, the metal clasp clanging in your ears, followed up by the tug of his zipper downward. His cock is freed and the dress is hiked up over the swell of your ass, back arching a little needy for him.

“Ready for me, sweetheart?”

You drop down to your elbows, feeling the tip of him against your entrance, keening with the ache to be full of him. To be so full until all you see is stars dancing behind your eyes.

When he pushes in, you both sigh at the way it feels like coming home. A deep, throaty sound that spills into the empty bathroom, hearts pounding in tandem as he pulls back slowly before pushing forward to the hilt.

A hand drops to the curve your ass, spreading you open for him, watching as his cock disappears over and over again within you, slick with your need.

“Come on, baby,” he grounds out, the slap of his hips against the backs of your thighs echoing in the bathroom, driving your lust higher. “Let everyone know how good your husband fucks you.”

A white hot pleasure zings up your spine and you’re coming, fluttering, crashing around him, crying his name as his hips falter in their rhythm, his own end approaching. He’s spilling into you, warm between your thighs, body folding over your back as his kisses splay across the column of your spine. You’re vaguely aware he’s speaking. Terms of endearment and affection, whispers for you to stay still so he can clean you up.

Your chest is still heaving as he pulls the edges of your dress back down, hand reaching for your underwear in his back pocket when he teases, “No.”

“No?” you huff out with a pout, pressing a kiss to his neck, right where his pulse still thrums away.

“I’m keeping them.” He cradles you in his arms, your chest pressing against his, the warmth of him blocking out the chill in the air. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

A chill runs up your spine at his words, fingers wrapping around his free hand as he unlocks the door and an annoyed looking patron rushes in, cursing at the two of you for whatever they think you just did in the bathroom.

And as you approach the table, Eddie’s voice nearly shouting your name as you rush forward and crash into his arms, you can’t help but think this is the best holiday season you’ve had in a long while.

Here, with the people who matter most. Here, as Eddie eventually gets up onto stage and plays his heart out. As your friends all gather together, mouthing along to the words of the songs. Chrissy nearly falling into you in her drunken excitement, Robin and Nancy blissfully in their own world, Steve standing at your back, with a hand around your hips.

Here in the place you once called home with the people who now are home. Those you can run to, find cover, fall into. And behind you, the man whose heart is your home. A soft pillow to land on, a place to rest your head, the one your soul has unknowingly longed and searched for.

The one you have now found.

Perfect.

——

You’re gasping. Breath falling in short pants, fingers spreading over Steve’s back, nails scraping into the heft of his muscle. His hips roll down into yours, endless strokes that have you seeing white, his words against your ear soft praises that make you whine soft and pretty in his ears.

The rest of the world sleeps within the home, except for you, Steve and the moonlight that spills in through your softly parted windows.

He’s hiking your thigh up around his hip, your back arching into the mattress, foot digging into his lower back. And he’s hitting that spot inside over and over again that has you muffling your moan into a pillow, his own face pressing into your sternum as he comes.

Chests heave with heavy breaths, bodies rolling over to seek one another — like magnets in the night, coming in close and tangling tight. His arms around your waist, your arms around his, hearts beating hard against sternums.

He lifts your left hand, kisses at the bands there, toys with the newest ring and rests it over his chest. Over his heart where you now reside. Your gaze follows the pathway, where you can feel it thrashing behind his ribcage, threatening to break free.

His eyes meet yours in the darkened room, mouth dropping against yours for a long, searing kiss that has your head spinning, swimming, spiraling. “Honey…”

It’s a whisper. A long sigh.

You lean into his palm as it rises to rest against your cheek, his thumb stroking long lines against your pretty features. Comforting, gentle, loving.

“Your ring,” he mutters after a while, sliding off the newest one, holding it up in the moonlight. “I want you to know, if I could do it again, I would mean every word. I would marry you again, in every universe.”

“Steve…”

“I love you,” he whispers, “I’ve never felt this way before, but I know it. I’m in love with you, sweetheart.”

And there it is. The words you’ve felt rattling around in your mind. The words you’ve been holding on your tongue for safe-keeping, waiting for the perfect moment to release them into the open.

I love you. I do. I love you. I do.

You lean down and kiss the planes of his face. The tops of his cheek, the curve of his jaw. His temples and forehead. The bump of his chin. The plush of his bottom lip, the bow of his upper lip.

When you fully press your lips against his, he rolls you beneath him, shoulders on either side of your head, keeping his weight off of your form. And he looks at you — he looks at you like he holds the world beneath him. Like you’re delicate and yet fierce and wholly his.

And you know in your heart you are. You are his, he is yours. Equally so.

“I’m in love with you, Steve,” you tell him, brushing at his cheek, feeling him smile as he leans into your palm. “I have been for a while now.”

So he loves you like that. Deeply and languidly, in the dying moonlight. Softly, until you shudder beneath him with his name a prayer on your lips. Until you catch your breath once more and roll over beside him and his arms find your waist in the night. Until you’re so wrapped within him that you don’t know where he starts and you end. And maybe that’s how it’s always been, how you know it’s always been meant to be, the promise of your vows and your love the sweetest balm to lull you both into blissful rest.

——

figured the lovebirds deserved some happiness before the next two chapters. two more, and then the epilogue to go. let me know what you think, please. comments/reblogs/likes are encouraging to your creators. 🩷🩷

[bettysupremacy]

Yuh it’s me your bff. Ok how abt the deer emoji. Bc yk James fr be a dear 🦌 LMAO. Ok so I’m deadass convinced James is like the cockiest mf on the planet and whenever reader tries to make him all flustered with compliments IT DIESNT WORK and he just flirts back like an asshole. We love him tho 😋. Anyways if you’d make a fic on that I’d fr sell my soul 🥰 LOVE U

OMG HI BFF🦌 and also you’re right. James is the cockiest boy ever.. but he’s also the sweetest. And I miss him. Physically. sorry this took me so long </3

“Come here often?” Your tippy toes ache from the way you stand on them. His face is so close, you can practically feel his smile. The sight is definitely a show to the other people of this club.

He snorts, bending down to kiss your lips.

“Come here often?” He reuses your line, pawing at your hip absentmindedly.

You laugh, startled at his lack of reaction. “Stop.”

He grins. “You got a number I can call?”

“Ew,” your numb face twists, presenting James with a pretty smile. “That was bad.”

“Was it?”

“Pretty bad.”

The line moves, the people in front of you walking forward three steps, before pausing again. The girls in front of you drop to sit on the cold concrete. The air is cold, and the concrete is colder. You feel bad for their uncovered legs.

“We’re never getting in.” She moans to her friend in front of her in a pretty blue dress. The sullen girls pick at their tights.

You look up at James curious as he gives you a small shake of his head. You’ll get in.

“It’s cold.” He frowns. “Are you cold?”

“I’m cold.” You agree. “You want a drink?” Your eyes peer up to his. “I’ll buy you a drink inside.”

Your flirting doesn’t budge him. “I’ll buy you a drink, sweet pea.”

Mary giggles behind the both of you.

“What’s it, Macdonald?” James turns, resting his chin on your head. You stare ahead, grinning.

“Sweet pea.”

He just smiles, turning back to bend and murmur into your ear. His proximity flusters you, and he has to chase your ear when his breath tickles you. It’s warm, tingling the skin in contact. “Someone’s got a case of the giggles.”

You nod, face faux serious. “She’s always got a case of the giggles.”

“I heard that!”

Lily grabs her, pressing a long kiss to her cheek. “She’s right.”

A warm hand grabs your arm, squeezing it tight twice before you realize the line is moving. Tripping over your feet, you let the hand guide you. “Oh,” you murmur. “sorry.”

“Right this way then.” James smiles.

You stare up at him. He’s the sunshine to your cold, the warmth to your achy fingers, and when you see him in this jacket it makes it hard to remember the way your shoes pinch your feet.

“This jacket is criminal on you, Jamie.”

“Yeah? How?”

“It murders me every time I see you in it.” You fake stab yourself in the stomach, twisting your fist and pretending to fall over. He catches you easily, holding you in his arms with a heavy smile.

“Time of death 9:34pm.” Sirius chimes in, though it falls to deaf ears.

James lifts you, still smiling as you push hair from your face.

“You look so pretty tonight.”

“Stop.” You blow.

“I’m serious!” James gasps, hands dropping down to the meat of your hips. Deftly, he turns you to face his friends. “Doesn’t she look pretty tonight?”

“Stunning.” Sirius nods.

“Very pretty.” Mary giggles.

“James.” You whisper, embarrassed. He doesn’t fret, grabbing your cold cheeks in his even colder hands.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Let me flirt with you.”

He pauses, standing in his place, your raw whisper startles him. “I can’t.” He murmurs slowly, letting you pull him closer to the moving line.

“Why not?”

“Cause you make me nervous.”

You laugh, pushing his chest. “Stupid.”

“For real!” He laughs back breathlessly. You see it in the cold air around you. “You make me so nervous.”

“When I like your jacket?” Your head tilts. “When I ask to buy you a drink?”

“When you look at me.”

You laugh. “You’re being silly.”

“I’m being honest.” He shrugs, grabbing your hand. Analyzing your face, he scoffs, looking away with a smile on his face, shaking his head in disappointment. “Have I ever told you you’re the prettiest girl in the entire world?”

“Enough!” Sirius yells pathetically.