#12 days of Ho

[ailendolin]

Thanktival 2022 - Day 10 - Yonderland

Title: The Wisp [AO3]

Characters: Ho-Tan, Alvin, Thomas, Alison and Debbie

Prompt: Project Crossover

Summary: A portal malfunction leaves Ho-Tan and her son stranded at Button House.

————

The Wisp

“Mum?” Ho-Tan felt timid fingers squeeze her hand. “Where are we?”

Definitely not Debbie’s kitchen, Ho-Tan thought as she took in the room they were in. Shelves lined the walls on either side of them, filled with books right up to the ceiling that made her itch to take a closer look, and through a set of windows she could see an orchard, beautifully in bloom, that reminded her of her childhood home. Beyond the trees, the sun was setting, tinting everything in a warm golden glow.

It was also gently filtering through the hole in the chest of the young man sitting by the window who was staring at them with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment that Ho-Tan assumed her own face was mirroring.

“Where did you come from?” he asked them with a frown. “Alison didn’t mention we were having any guests today or … costume parties.”

His eyes roamed over their clothes in a rather judgmental way and Ho-Tan felt Alvin’s hold on her hand tighten.

“Mum,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he half-stepped behind her. “That man is bleeding.”

At his words, the man looked down at himself and hurriedly covered his wound. “Oh, apologies. I know it’s an ugly thing to – wait, you can see me?”

He looked so genuinely surprised by that fact that Ho-Tan found herself offering him an unsure smile. “Yes?”

“Oh!” the man exclaimed and slid from the windowsill, his eyes suddenly wide and almost childlike with excitement. “I’ve not seen you around before – which means you must have just died! Welcome to Button House, then! My name is Thomas and–”

Alvin let out a squeak and hid his head in Ho-Tan’s side.

Thomas faltered. “Did I say something wrong?”

Wrapping an arm around her son in comfort, Ho-Tan shook her head. “No. I think there’s been a misunderstanding, though. We’re – we’re not dead. Just … lost, I guess. ”

“Oh,” Thomas said in dismay. It lasted only a second, however, before his face lit up again. “Then you must be like Alison! Pray tell, did you recently fall from a window? People can sometimes see ghosts after they do, you know?”

Alvin sucked in a sharp breath.

“He’s a wisp, Mum! A wisp!” he whispered, digging his fingers almost painfully into Ho-Tan’s side.

“Wisp?” Thomas repeated. He made a thoughtful noise. “Well, I suppose you could call us that. The more common term would be ghost, though.”

Ghost, wisp, gasman – it all came down to the same thing: they were talking to a dead person right now. A dead person from a different world, no less, because Ho-Tan was pretty sure they were not in Yonderland anymore or any of the other eleven realms. Before she’d met Boo, she probably would have put her hands over her ears and screamed at the prospect of standing in front of a very real wisp. She couldn’t deny that she still felt the urge to do that but she’d learned from Debbie not to be so quick to judge people – and she really didn’t want to scare Alvin any more than he already was.

So she took a deep breath and said with as much confidence as she could muster, “It is our pleasure to meet you, ghost Thomas. I am Ho-Tan and this is my son, Alvin. Alvin, say hello to ghost Thomas.”

“Just Thomas is fine, Thomas said as Alvin sneaked a quick glance around Ho-Tan’s back and muttered a faint, “Hello,” before hiding again.

“We didn’t fall from any windows,” Ho-Tan went on. “But we did come through a portal from Yonderland. Have you heard of it?”

Thomas blinked at her, confirming her suspicions that he wouldn’t be able to help them get back home with his wisp powers. “No, I’m afraid I have not. But Alison might have? I could go get her.”

He pointed at a door to his right and Ho-Tan smiled gratefully even though she had no idea who Alison was. “Thank you. That would be very kind.”

When Thomas had gone, she turned around and knelt down in front of Alvin.

“I know you are afraid,” she said softly and waited for him to meet her eyes before she reached up to cup his face. “But I don’t think that wisp is going to eat us.”

“How can you be sure?” Alvin asked. “All the stories say–“

“The stories might be wrong,” Ho-Tan said.

Alvin gasped. “Mum!”

As gently as she could, Ho-Tan tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “We’re in a different world, Alvin. What’s true for Yonderland might not be true here.”

“But it could be,” Alvin argued.

“Yes,” Ho-Tan conceded. “But did Thomas struck you as a man-eating monster?”

Alvin dropped his eyes to his shoes.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly.

Ho-Tan smiled, knowing her son would come around eventually. “Then let’s be kind to him like we would be to anyone else and hope that this Alison can help us.”

Alison, it turned out, could not help them. She had never heard of Yonderland before, let alone portals, but her eyes lit up in recognition when Ho-Tan mentioned the town Debbie lived in.

“Oh yeah, that’s only like a two-hour drive away from here,” she said. “I suppose we could take you there if all else fails …”

“But it would probably be wiser to wait and see if Elf and Nick figure out the problem with the portal first,” Ho-Tan finished with a smile, sensing that Alison wasn’t too eager to travel all that way if not absolutely necessary.

“Yeah, probably,” Alison said. “I could give you a tour of the place while you wait? You could meet my husband, Mike, and the other ghosts.”

Alvin, once again clinging to Ho-Tan’s side at the mention of more ghosts, firmly shook his head. Ho-Tan gave Alison an apologetic look. “I think we’ll just stay here in your library if that’s all right.”

“Yeah, of course,” Alison smiled. “Not sure if there’s many children’s books in here but you’re welcome to take a look around if you’d like.”

Ho-Tan’s face lit up as if Thanktival had come early. “Thank you, Alison.”

She spent the next half an hour or so browsing through the collection with Alvin, carefully cataloguing everything that sounded interesting in the little notebook she always carried around with her wherever she went. Thomas had returned to his seat by the window and glanced at them every now and then before at last he heaved a heavy sigh and, nodding at the quill in Ho-Tan’s hand, said, “How I envy you. To be able to write down your thoughts at any time.”

Ho-Tan glanced down at the words she had just written. The ink hadn’t even dried yet. “Were you a scribe as well?”

Thomas shook his head. “A poet. Still am, really. At least I try to be. It’s hard to create and compose when you’re bereft of the most important tools of your trade.”

“I can imagine,” Ho-Tan said softly, remembering a time from her childhood when she had to fight for every scrap of paper.   

“Maybe Mum can write for you,” Alvin suggested shyly. “She’s really good at recording things.”

The look of naked hope in Thomas’s eyes was almost too much to bear. “Would you?”

Ho-Tan couldn’t have said no even if she’d wanted to. Together with Alvin, she joined Thomas by the window and got to work. Time flew by as Thomas composed, looked over what she’d written, revised it with her and Alvin’s help, composed some more and revised it again. The sun had long set by the time a familiar blue light appeared in the corner of the library and Debbie stumbled out of the portal with a relieved, “There you are! We were worried sick!”

After some confusing explanations on both parts –

“We had to find out where the portal went and ended up in Croydon the first few times.”

“We’ve been helping a ghost compose poetry!”

– and a timely intervention from Alison that cleared up most of the confusion, it was time to say goodbye.

“Thank you for assisting me with my poetry tonight,” Thomas said softly as he shook first Ho-Tan’s and then Alvin’s hand. “It means more to me than you can imagine.”

“Thank you for not being a scary wisp,” Alvin smiled shyly up at him.

“And for your hospitality. Until next time,” Ho-Tan said. She offered him one last wave before she followed the others through the portal.

On the other side, the Elders were anxiously waiting for them after she and Alvin had been pulled into very tight and affectionate hugs that lingered longer than usual, Debbie gently took her aside. “I’m not sure there’ll actually be a next time, Ho-Tan. It was pure luck we even managed to find you this time.”

Ho-Tan smiled. “I’m sure you’ll figure it eventually, Debbie. And until then, I have a favour to ask of you.”

————

Two weeks later, a package arrived at Button House, addressed to Thomas Thorne. When Alison opened it for him and he laid eyes on his very own poem, beautifully penned on fine paper and framed with golden wood that seemed to emit a warm glow and couldn’t possibly be from this world, he felt his throat close up.

“To Thomas,” Alison read softly from the letter that had been attached. “Thank you for welcoming us so warmly to your world when we got lost. Love from Yonderland, Scribe Elder Ho-Tan and Younger Alvin.”

Alison’s eyes moved over the poem, taking in every line in a way that made Thomas’s veins thrum with nervousness.

“Did you really write this?” she asked at last. When he nodded mutely, Alison’s eyes softened with a genuine smile. “It’s really beautiful, Thomas. We should hang it up in your room.”

Thomas swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’d like that.”

Over the following days, weeks and months, whenever the others laughed at his pitiful attempts at poetry, he would go to his room and read the lines he’d managed to compose with Ho-Tan and Alvin’s help to remind himself of what he was capable if given the chance. It always took a little while but eventually his cheeks would stop burning with shame and he would find the strength to try again.

Because it wasn’t hopeless.

Because he wasn’t.

#12 days of thanktival #scribe elder ho tan #thomas thorne #bbc ghosts #yonderland #the elders' youngers #alison cooper #debbie maddox #my fic

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

#i have to sleep a lot. i’m at the point where functioning requires 8 hours of sleep if not more #I should probably be getting 10+ but i’m a student and i work so 8 is the minimum. but then also getting ready for bed is a whole process s #the whole thing can take 10-12 hours depending how much im sleeping. just to make sure i can do anything #that is time in my day i cannot use for anything else. it’s not ‘oh but i can push through it’ because i can’t without spending the next da #lightheaded and nauseous and vaguely dizzy and with such intense brain fog I can’t think with my fatigue so bad i genuinely don’t know how #get myself to work a lot of days. my abled peers don’t have to deal with this at all. they have unlimited study time if they want to #and yeah it is a choice i’m making that’s true i could just not do. except i would lose my job and fail out of college because i would not #be able to get to classes or do my homework or think. but being told ‘but you are making choices about your life’ when i have lost so much #of what i used to be able to do because i am spiralling down and continuing to get worse is so. #literally last year i would wake up at 6:30 and then go to school till 3 and then go to my internship until 10 and get home at 11 and be in #bed anywhere from midnight to two in the morning and then wake up the next day and do it all again. i graduated with a 3.9 gpa and made it #into my top college while dealing with my cancer symptoms and then the two surgeries about it #but now i lose half my day to just making sure i can get out of bed. i can’t go anywhere because my body is physically too exhausted #any extra time goes into doing homework or occasionally time to myself #not decimating my health by doing minimum body care responsibilities isn’t freeing. occasionally i have a good day which is freeing but tha #usually goes into just. other things outside class or work or eating. I don’t go do something for myself or go do something fun on good day #because I still can’t. good days just mean i don’t want to lie down on the pavement when i’m going somewhere #I just. I don’t magically have control over my life because i try to get enough sleep. i lose half my day to doing that and ultimately it’s #just a bodily function that would have to happen anyway #this is a vent post im just having a really hard time right now because it feels like im in exponential decline. it was nowhere near this #bad last semester. my grades are tanking and i have no free time because anything outside of sleep is either work or school #vent tw #yall can rb this just ignore my tags completely #disability #chronically ill #i keep trying to explain to people how pots works because that’s all logical but there’s no way to explain what it’s doing to my body or ho #i feel all the time. the last time i felt this bad was when i had a bad flu or immediately after surgeries because i don’t react well to #anesthesia and always come out of them feeling like shit. and now i just feel like this all the time and it’s only getting worse #I can’t even stay up late anymore because my body feels like it isn’t counting the sleep even if I get 8 hours #I can deal if I have a free day the day after but that just leaves Friday and Saturday nights and I usually still have to do homework

[cartoonpigeon]

the Zim doodle form earlier on it's own cause I like it a lot :D

#it's kinda my own take on his human disguise #tried to make his wig a bit more Mohawk like cause I hc he'd be into alt fashion #(obviously this is an aged up kinda design idk what age but he's definitely not 12 here) #the jacket got a bit messed up but hey ho #we stay silly :3 #invader zim #zim fanart #zim's human disguise #doodles #(although it took me a day or so) #my art #traditional art

[italiantea]

i really need to archive my shit better

#broke my old usb stick last year sad days #ive had that usb since i was like 10 there was some shit on there #i also got my 1st email deleted as a kid because i stupidly wrote my actual birth year once and google was like ur not 13 yet and nuked it #i was a pretty dumb kid lmao #ive been combing through various messages and chat histories for my middle school era photos #i didnt really use my phone camera back then. god when i was 12 i used my new years money to buy an actual camera #that quickly. fell out of use #lol #the ho rambles

[viola-halogen]

12 Days of Thanktival — Day 9: Hurt-Comfort/Elders/Snow Day

—

[AO3 link]

Relationships: Scribe Elder Ho-Tan/Wise Elder Vex, Scribe Elder Ho-Tan & Wise Elder Vex

Characters: Scribe Elder Ho-Tan, Wise Elder Vex, Chief Elder Choop, Vice Elder Flowers, Lord Elder Pressley

—

Summary: When Ho-Tan gets hurt sledding, Vex takes care of her.

A/N: Me and my family usually go sledding whenever we get a lot of snow so it was really fun incorporating that into this fic as something the Elders and Youngers would do together.

—

Better

A ten minute walk from the Elders’ Chamber there was a steep hill that sloped downwards into a narrow dip before coming up again on the other side, and sometimes on days when it snowed properly the Elders and Youngers would go sledding there.

It was a popular destination on snow days, and they would usually be joined by families from the local villages, which meant that they had to get there first thing in the morning to be sure of the best spot. They’d done well this year, getting up at the crack of dawn and dragging their sleds through the woods by the light of the moons, so that it was still mostly dark by the time they set up their camping chairs at the top of the hill. They were all wrapped up warm in coats, scarves and gloves—even a begrudging Flowers—and Ho-Tan had made hot chocolate for all of them. While they waited for it to get light enough to start sledding, they huddled together for warmth and talked excitedly about the day ahead of them. Before long other groups started to show up, and when the hilltop was starting to get crowded, Choop leapt to his feet.

“Raise you to the bottom!” he announced gleefully, positioning his sled to get the best takeoff and sitting down.

“You’re on, old boy!” Vex said, struggling to get into his sled. Irk sat on his lap and took the reins of the sled, as everyone else got into position. Only when they were all ready did Choop push off, flying down the hill and gaining speed as he went. Vex gave a push with his legs and then they were racing off after Choop. The sled was slightly too small for both of them and rocked from side to side, so that they both had to fight to keep their balance.

“You remember how to steer this thing, right?” Vex yelled in Irk’s ear as they swerved dangerously around Pressley and almost went flying.

“What?” Irk turned around to shout, and at that moment the sled spun out of control, flipping over and dumping them both in the snow. Luckily Irk was still holding onto the reins, and the sled didn’t continue to slide down the hill.

“Are you alright?” Vex asked his son as he dusted snow from himself.

“That was awesome!” Irk cried. “Let’s do it again!”

Vex grinned and got to his feet, taking the sled from Irk and beginning the trek back to the top. Unfortunately going up the hill was a lot harder than going down, and by the time they made it he was out of breath and feeling rather warm in all his layers.

“Here’s an idea,” Vex said, gesturing to a sled that lay on its side, currently not in use. It belonged to Ho-Tan, he was pretty sure, and was a lot bigger than the one he and Irk had been sharing. “You take ours, I’ll take this one, and we’ll race to the bottom.”

“Deal,” Irk said.

They sledded for hours as the sun gradually made its way across the sky. At one point it clouded over and began to snow again, and the kids made a game of trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. They were beginning to carve out tracks in the snow where it had been compressed under their sleds, which only seemed to make them go faster. A steady stream of people had been arriving all morning now, and the sledders were becoming increasingly packed together.

Vex had just made it back up to the top of the hill and was pausing to get his breath back when it happened. One minute he was watching Choop and Ho-Tan sledding along next to each other, and the next Ho-Tan’s sled ran over a rock, diverted violently from its path and crashed straight into Choop’s. They went tumbling down the hill together, coming to a stop in a small ditch near the bottom, and Vex was horrified to hear a cry of pain from one of them. He didn’t hesitate, abandoning his sled and stumbling down the hill, using his hands for grip on the ground, his boots ploughing the snow as he half-ran, half-slid to where they had landed. When he got there both Choop and Ho-Tan were sitting up, their sleds cast to one side. Ho-Tan was clutching at her head and wincing, while Choop held her other arm and turned it this way and that, examining her wrist. He gave it a small twist, and Ho-Tan cried out in pain, biting down on her lip.

“Alfie! Are you okay?” Vex cried, and they both looked up at him.

“I think her wrist is broken,” Choop said. “The sled ran over her arm on the way down. She hit her head on the ground as well.”

“Let’s get back up to the top,” Vex said. “We can come back for the sleds.”

Ho-Tan nodded somewhat dazedly and leant on Vex to stand up, and the three of them began the trek up the hill. When they got there Vex sat with Ho-Tan, while Choop went to get the sleds.

“You need to go home and get that seen to,” Vex told her. “I’ve got a potion to fix broken bones somewhere. I’ll come back with you.”

Ho-Tan shook her head. “No—I don’t want to ruin your day,” she said. “You stay here and have fun. I’ll be alright on my own.”

“Nonsense,” Vex said. “I can’t leave you to go off on your own when you’re hurt, what kind of a jerk would do that? And I’m sure Flowers won’t mind keeping an eye on Alvin and Irk while we’re gone, will you?”

“Of course not,” Flowers chimed in. “No brother—or sister—should be left to suffer alone.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ho-Tan said. “Okay, let’s go.”

Vex and Ho-Tan headed away from the group and began to walk back towards the Elders’ Chamber. The walk seemed considerably longer with Ho-Tan shivering by his side and desperately trying to conceal the miserable look of pain on her face from him.

“How badly does it hurt?” he asked her gently.

“My head feels worse,” she said. “My wrist just feels sort of… funny. But it hurts when I try to move it.”

Vex reached out and put an arm around her shoulders. “We’re nearly there now,” he said. “Just a bit further.”

Ho-Tan nodded, but said nothing. When at last they rounded the corner and found themselves outside the front door to the Chamber, Vex pulled out his keys and let them in. He took Ho-Tan straight to the kitchen, where there was a fire still blazing in the hearth, and sat her down in front of it.

“Stay here and get warm,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

He made his way to his room and started rummaging around for the healing potion he knew he had somewhere—he’d bought it on a whim from Wizard Bradley a while ago and since forgotten about it. Finally he found it, stuffed at the bottom of his emergency supply kit (it was mostly spare buttons and a bag of dried fruit) and rushed back downstairs to Ho-Tan. He found her cradling her broken wrist in her lap and wincing in pain. It was already swollen and bruised, and the sight of it made Vex’s heart pang with sympathy.

“I found it,” he said, dropping into the chair next to her and uncorking the small glass bottle. “Here, drink this.”

Ho-Tan took the bottle with her good hand and necked it, grimacing at its foul taste. Then she put it down and turned to face Vex. “That was really disgusting,” she said. “What’s it made of, fish guts?”

Vex laughed. “I’ll make us hot chocolate in a minute, that’ll take the taste away.”

“Aah!” Ho-Tan cried suddenly, clutching at her wrist in pain. Vex had only taken that kind of healing potion once before, but he remembered exactly how painful it could be as your bones magically underwent the months-long process of repairing themselves in a matter of minutes. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Ho-Tan, stroking her shoulder.

“It… it hurts…” she said.

“That means it’s working,” Vex said. “I know it’s horrible… just hold on, it fades pretty quickly.”

Ho-Tan nodded and buried her face in Vex’s chest. He could tell how much effort it was taking her not to cry out in pain, and he felt a rush of admiration for her strength and perseverance. A few minutes passed like that, but eventually the pain seemed to abate, because she sat up and managed a watery smile.

“How do you feel now?” Vex asked her.

“A lot better,” she said. “It’s still kind of numb, but I can move it again.” She bent her wrist gently to demonstrate. Vex took her hand and felt it gently, to confirm that the break had been fully fixed. Then he examined her forehead as well—it was going to bruise spectacularly, but there was no serious damage done. The best thing to do would most likely be to let it heal on its own.

“That’s good,” he said. “You might want to be careful with it for the next few days, but other than that you should be completely fine.”

Ho-Tan smiled weakly at him. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she said. “It was very sweet of you. I’m just sorry I ruined your day—I know how much you love it when it snows.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “Nothing is more important to me than making sure you’re okay. There’ll be other snow days. All that matters now is looking after you.”

A warm pink colour spread across Ho-Tan’s cheeks, and she leant her head on his shoulder again.

“You’re the best,” she told him. “Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and leant down to kiss the top of her head. “No problem,” he said. “I’ll always take care of you.”

#yonderland #yonderland fanfic #elder ho tan #elder vex #vextan #12 days of thanktival

[larryrickard]

Vex gets Ho-Tan a gift, but it doesn't quite go how he thought it would.

tags:

12 Days of Thanktival

Gift Giving

Fluff

Getting Together

Love Confessions

vex declares his love by kind of sort of pre-proposing to ho-tan

#them there #yonderland #scribe elder ho tan #wise elder vex #vextan #12 days of thanktival #my fic

[caps-clever-girl]

12 Days of Thanktival challenge, 2022 - Day 3 (Prompt 2): Mistletoe.

It’s the annual Maddox Christmas Bash and this year, it’s not just the mysterious Ted Higgins making an appearance.

Now that her family’s fully aware of her double life, Debbie’s invited a few of her Yonderlandian friends over for the party and it’s set to be a fantastic night, though her husband’s obsession with mistletoe has caught more than a few people by surprise…

#12 days of thanktival #yonderland #cake bake ladies #cake bake by the lake #elder ho tan #elder choop #elder vex #elder pressley #elder flowers #debbie maddox #wise elder vex #vice elder flowers #lord elder pressley #scribe elder ho tan #negatus #txt #fic #link #squeak.fic #squeak.txt

[byronicbi]

I didn't know it was your birthday, happy (late) birthday!!! Sounds like you had a good one!!

Just this once, I am providing a "late wishing of birthday" pass because you're neat. And I graciously thank you!!!!

#emperorharuhi #i wasn't home all day and immediately passed out when i arrived so yeah we're good #asks ho! #i slept 12 hours whaddup

[jadipose]

Why so sleepy?

wo+rk sucked

#asks #o+n my feet fo+r almo+st 12 ho+urs to+day #tired

[lyssentome]

Day 1: Hug

Imma do this real quick before i forget lol. There isn't a hug in this... well? Technically? The characters are huddling together on a couch. But still, this scene feels v comforting to come back to, so it has the same vibes as a hug. Is it good? I mean, probably not but let me have this. With HoS characters as per usual. Also, this is for @writeblrfantasy 's 12 days of writers self love, in case you're curious.

Warning: I'm SE Asian and I've experienced actual snow two (2) times in my life. Idk what I'm doing with this one. Expect some inaccuracy (probably). Also, pretty unedited save for some grammar mistakes.

Length: ~400 words

After having to withstand Arden and Xylena moaning about how they're now cold and wet, Valeria took the liberty of suggesting they move to the solarium. They’re now huddled together on the couch, out of necessity more than anything else. For some unknown reason, the temperature charms in the solarium aren't working properly, which caused the temperature to be colder than anyone would prefer. Even Brynn moved to the couch too, with the help of Epione to steady her. Oddly enough, Valeria doesn’t mind being huddled together like this. She figures that it might be the fact that she trusts them enough and that they’re only doing this out of necessity.

Alexius’ head is leaning against her shoulder, holding her hand in a loose grip as he looks out the wide windows surrounding the solarium. Even with his eyesight, Valeria doubts he’d be able to see anything past the snow-covered forest tops. He looks pensive, his stormy gray eyes clouded with a trance Valeria can’t decipher. Despite that, he doesn’t look particularly bothered, only that he’s not paying attention to his physical surroundings right now. She doesn’t bother asking about it; he’ll tell her if he wants to.

Arden is on her other side, his arms crossed on his chest  as he mutters something about being cold. Valeria almost wants to scold him again, but she figured that he’s already annoyed enough as it is. Xylena is besides Arden, also looking out of the windows in deep thought as her hands rest on her lap. Epione and Brynn are basically cuddling, which isn’t all that surprising considering how comfortable they are with each other. Brynn has her head laid against Epione’s shoulder, humming a soft tune as Epione twirls a piece of Brynn’s black coily hair.

Meaningful silence falls between them as they all look out the wide windows and drink their hot chocolate, huddled together on a couch. Time passes with occasional banter, small talks, and stupid jokes. After a while, Valeria realizes that Alexius had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She lets out a fond sigh, a flicker of a smile brightening her expression. The talks slowly dwindle down to gentle, rhythmic breathing and hushed voices talking to each other. Soon enough Valeria is the only one still awake. She can leave the room, but she doesn't want to wake the others. Her eyes fall onto the large window panes of the solarium, watching snowflakes fall towards the garden below. 

In the privacy of her own mind, she can admit that she enjoys the shared warmth.

#12 days of writers self love #my writing #creative writing #valeria isadora #arden isadora #alexius revion #brynn goldar #epione devin #xylena delune #HoS: a wip #writing #short excerpt #ok i mostly wrote this for self indulgent reasons so it's probably not good... sorry. #the target demographic of this short is Me and Only Me. #still. hope you like it

[ailendolin]

Thanktival 2022 - Day 9 - Yonderland

Title: Decorations [AO3]

Characters: Alvin, Voltari & Dissectus

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort (and Decorations from Day 8)

Summary: Voltari and Dissectus have never celebrated Thanktival before. Alvin convinces them to give it a try.

A/N: Set in an AU where Voltari and Dissectus changed sides and helped Debbie and the Elders defeat Cuddly Dick.

————

Decorations

“Oh – there you are!” Alvin said, stopping mid-step in the hallway outside of the kitchen as he caught sight of Dissectus and Voltari out of the corner of his eye. The boxes of tinsel and Chompus decorations he was carrying wobbled precariously in his arms but luckily didn’t fall. “What are you two doing here?”

Voltari and Dissectus exchanged an amused glance before Dissectus held up the mug in his hand. “Drinking tea.”

Alvin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. What I meant was: why aren’t you decorating the Chamber with mum and dad and the others?”

The look Voltari and Dissectus exchanged this time held no more amusement. Neither of them would quite meet Alvin’s eyes when Voltari said quietly, “We didn’t want to be in the way.”

“In the way?” Alvin asked with a frown. He marched into the room and carefully placed the boxes on the table before he turned to Voltari. “Why would you be in the way? The more, the merrier – that’s what mum always says. She loves this kind of stuff, you know? Decorating, having everyone she loves around her …”

He trailed off uncertainly when he saw Voltari’s fingers tighten around his mug. A little helplessly, he turned towards Dissectus. “I … I don’t understand. Don’t you like Thanktival?”

The thought seemed preposterous. Everyone loved Thanktival! It was as good as written.

“Overlords don’t celebrate Thanktival, kid,” Dissectus said after a heavy pause. “For us it’s just another day of the year.”

Alvin’s heart fell. “So you’ve never–?”

“No,” Dissectus said with a shake of his head. He glanced at Voltari. “It wasn’t allowed.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Voltari confirmed softly. His eye was glued to the mug in the same way his hands seemed to be. “I once asked my father if we could decorate the fortress for Thanktival. I was … four years old at the time, perhaps; five at most. He had taken me into town earlier that day and all the other houses had looked so pretty with the lights and decorations that I thought it would be nice if our home looked like that too – warm and cosy, you know? My father laughed straight in my face and threatened to feed me to the wolves if I ever so much as mentioned Thanktival again. So that was the end of that.”

He heaved a heavy sigh and readjusted his hold on his mug but did not move to take a sip. Alvin glanced at Dissectus, unsure of what to do, but he had the same forlorn and faraway look in his eyes that Voltari had so Alvin decided to follow his mum’s advice for situations like this – “Always trust your heart, my son.” He closed the distance between Voltari and him and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. After all, hugs always made him feel better when he was sad.

“I am sorry,” he whispered into Voltari’s shoulder, meaning every word.

It took a moment but eventually hands tentatively settled on his shoulders, hugging him back. “Thank you, Alvin. It’s not your fault but – thank you.”

Alvin smiled to himself and let the hug last a moment longer before he leaned back a little so he could look Voltari in the eye. “I obviously can’t change the past but … I could show you how to celebrate Thanktival? If you’d like? My dad learned so you could too!”

He glanced between Voltari and Dissectus, unsure if his offer would be welcome. Some wounds simply ran too deep to be healed properly – another wisdom his mum had once shared with him. Alvin hoped this particular wound wouldn’t be one of them.

“We really wouldn’t want to intrude, Alvin,” Voltari said quietly. “Your mother said this is a time for family and–”

“Exactly!” Alvin interrupted him. “You’re both family now so you should be there!”

Voltari blinked at him, looking at a loss. He was usually a quiet man but Alvin didn’t think he’d ever seen him speechless before. He wasn’t quite sure if this was a good sign or a bad one until Dissectus asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, “What do you say, Tari? Want to give this whole Thanktival business another try?”

His eyes were soft and there was a small, quiet smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at Voltari from across the table. Alvin had the feeling a whole conversation was happening between them without a single word being said, and he couldn’t deny that a part of him was really curious about what they weren’t saying. Both Dissectus and Voltari were incredibly private people and rarely talked so openly about their past as Voltari had done a moment ago. Most of the things Alvin knew about them he’d either heard from his mum or inferred from glances or involuntary reactions and he was desperate to get to know them better. Thanktival seemed the perfect place to start so he gave Voltari the best puppy dog eyes he could manage and said, “Please, Voltari. Say yes.”

Voltari huffed out a laugh that was just a little bit shaky. “No wonder your parents always let you have your way. You’re a menace, little one.”

Alvin did his best not to grin in triumph. “Does that mean you’ll help us decorate?”

“Yes,” Voltari said, sounding a little exasperated though Alvin was sure that was more for show than genuine irritation. He pushed himself up from his chair and reached for one of the boxes. “Someone has to keep you from breaking your neck trying to carry all these boxes, after all. I can’t believe your mum sent you off on your own to get all of this.”

“Oh, that was Uncle Choop, actually. He sent Uncle Trevor with me but–“

“No arms,” Dissectus said wryly as he picked up two of the boxes and placed them under one arm. “Why am I not surprised?”

Alvin shrugged and happily claimed the last box full of tinsel. “You’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s go!”

He skipped a little ahead, having a feeling they might like a moment alone and sure enough, once he’d rounded a corner and they believed him to be out of earshot Dissectus stopped in the middle of the hallway and said very softly, “You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Tari.”

There was a pause and Alvin glanced cautiously around the corner. The last thing he wanted was for Voltari to feel forced to celebrate Thanktival with them – that hadn’t been his intention at all.

What he saw immediately put his worries at ease. Voltari was smiling up at Dissectus – just like Alvin’s mum always smiled at his dad when she thought no one was looking. There was nothing forced about the gentle happiness in his eyes when he said, “You heard the kid – we’re family.”

Dissectus’s eyes softened. For a brief moment that made Alvin hold his breath, he reached up to touch Voltari’s face. “I guess we are.”

When Voltari closed his eye and leaned into the touch, Alvin began to wonder if this might be the moment they would finally–

“Alvin?” he heard his Uncle Choop suddenly call from down the corridor. “Is that you I can hear dawdling in the hallway?”

Alvin did his best to muffle his groan when the moment was broken and Dissectus’s hand fell from Voltari’s face. They had been so close! Maybe he should ask Debbie about that mistletoe thing that made people kiss the next time she visited. Surely a little nudge in the right direction couldn’t hurt – and Alvin was pretty sure that was all they needed: a nudge. With that thought in mind, he grinned up at Voltari and Dissectus when they caught up to him before he took a deep breath and called down the hallway, “I’m not dawdling, Uncle Choop! I’m bringing reinforcements!”

#12 days of thanktival #voltari #dissectus #yonderland #younger ho-tan #my fic

[loversofthegrave]

kids these days don't understand the atmosphere of eric kripke seasons, he was an absolute master of his craft/vision and anyone who actively convinces anyone to skip 1-3 is not in one's right mind. eric completely understood the backwoods old school americana, the influence of 70s rock and og blues incorporated into the essence of the show. the original soundtrack of supernatural wasn't just about sounding good but woven into the narrative of the story (blue oyster cult/ACDC/led zepp/styx/robert johnson/the chamber brothers) music that held the entire spirit of time & culture of that time. (I can't tell you how much watching supernatural at 12 shaped my music taste today) the smoky roadhouses/bars, mullets, scrapyards and classic americana cars, oh he just got it.

kripke fabricated the toxic hyper-co-dependent brothers we know and love, he managed to write the most obnoxious, gung ho, red blooded masculine guy also be the obedient, subdued, desperate, needy brother/son/man who's worth is only attached in those he can gratify. the tender and gentle, sorrowful, conflicted and misfit little (big) brother who endeavoured every path to avoid his fate yet succumbed to it anyways. two brothers so layered in their attachment with one another that if you witnessed it before you you'd be down right scared

I hold onto this series so much because of how 1-5 made me feel, the nostalgia he captured.

#eric kripke seasons forever #supernatural #spn #eric kripke #dean winchester #sam winchester

[artistdinzel]

#MUSICA DANZA DINZeL #DiNZeL #ITALIAN #CELEBRAZIONE! CAFFÈ DINZeL (RICETTA ORIGINALE)... (PONTE DI BROOKLYN #NEW YORK CITY) Da: DiNZeLs <[email protected]> A: DiNZeLa <[email protected]> Inviato: 01 maggio 2022 #12:25:22 Oggetto: https://youtu.be/6PLN7HoXc7I (SOTTOSCRIVI) https://www.backstage.com › dinzel Storia del secolo... #che vivo da solo nella mia nuova prestigiosa residenza di lusso privata di New York City #sono una sola persona intelligente e ben istruita. Da bambino ero un Cub Scout e Boy Scout #ho giocato a Pitcher con la New York Yankee Little League. Più tardi #dopo il diploma di scuola superiore #sono entrato a far parte del Corpo dei Marines degli Stati Uniti e ho ricevuto un congedo con onore. Sono stato più volte onorato dai Presi #yankee e leggenda vivente con una famiglia #un nome e un'istruzione importanti. Il mio nome utente unico è . Sono un etero nato da solo Nativo di New York #cittadino americano misto (siciliano #nero #bianco europeo #spagnolo #tedesco #indiano americano...) 6 piedi di altezza atletico #muscoloso #bello #giovane uomo di bell'aspetto con un nero basso #pulito capelli misti. Il mio segno di compleanno è Leone #il mio compleanno è ad agosto. AUTOBIOGRAFIA DiNZeL #SCOUT #(ONORABILE) VETERANO ONORATO #PILOTA (AEREO) #CONDUCENTE #CARRELLO SOLLEVATORE #PALLETJACK

[italiantea]

mindblown to learn that it's apparently common for japanese schools to ban kids from buying snacks between meals. bro when i was a kid $5 ntd mystery ice pops from the corner store were my childhood. if we got food poisoning that was on us lmao we knew what we were getting into

#and That's the difference between japan and taiwan #then again i was also getting into daycare 'school buses' that were just plain vans with loose chairs scattered in the trunk #i dont think they were taking child well being into that much consideration #the ho rambles #now that i think back on it childhood in taiwan is kinda wild lmao #like i didnt even get any particularly abusive teachers or anything like i was one of the lucky ones #same daycare also used to let us run back to school if we forgot our homework #until one girl in my class got into a car accident while running in the road #like they jsut let us do shit #another teacher came over to gossip and openly bragged and laughed about hitting a kid's hands with a ruler til he had bruises? #we also did the 'let kids do the cleaning instead of hiring janitors' thing #like they just let loose 6-12 year olds to shovel shit every afternoon? #i was also assigned to the boys toilet for some reason?? #someone pissed on the floor without fail every day

[viola-halogen]

12 Days of Thanktival — Day 1: Found Family/Elder’s Youngers/Holiday Jumpers

—

[AO3 link]

Relationships: The Elder Youngers & Scribe Elder Ho-Tan, The Elder Youngers

Characters: Scribe Elder Ho-Tan, The Elder Youngers

—

Summary: It's the Youngers' first time spending Thanktival away from home, without their parents. Alvin has an idea to cheer them up, which ends up bringing them closer together as friends.

A/N: This is based off of a headcanon I have that each of the Elders comes from a different one of the 12 realms and normally the Youngers would grow up at their parent's home in whatever realm they come from. However when Imperatrix started invading the other realms all of the Youngers were taken from their homes and brought to live together in a safe house in Yonderland until the war was over.

I used @ailendolin’s amazing headcanons for the Youngers’ names.

—

Home

“I don’t want to spend Thanktival here! I want to spend Thanktival at home with my friends!”

“I know, darling. But remember there’s a war on, and it’s not safe to go back to Hitherland yet,” Alvin’s mum said, ruffling his hair as they headed for the front door.

“Yeah, I know, the war,” Alvin protested. “But you said it would be over before Thanktival, mum. You said we’d be home by now.”

Mum looked sadly at him for a moment, before pulling him into a tight hug. “I know, hun,” she said. “We all just want things to go back to normal. But until then we have to be strong, and not lose hope, okay? And someday we’ll all be able to go home again.”

Alvin buried his head in her chest. “It would be better if you were going to be here with us,” he said.

“You know we have to work hard all Thanktival to keep the realm safe,” mum said. “But I promise I’ll come and visit you on Thanktival morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Alvin said glumly. Mum pulled back and ruffled his hair again.

“And maybe in the meantime you could at least try to make some friends?” she said. “You’re going to be ruling the realm with your fellow Youngers one day.”

Alvin shrugged. He and the others had mostly kept to themselves ever since they’d all moved into the safehouse. He suspected that like him, they were all hoping this situation would be over before they were forced to get used to it.

“I love you,” mum said as she went to the door. “Be good, and pay attention in your lessons, or Imperatrix will come and turn your fingers into spiders and your brains into sprouts.”

“Muuum.” Alvin rolled his eyes. “I’m too old to believe in your stories anymore.”

“That’s what your Uncle Tim said when he was your age,” Mum said.

“I don’t have an Uncle Tim.”

“Exactly.” Mum winked. “See you on Thanktival morning.” And with that, she stepped out into the cold and shut the door behind her. Alvin let out a small sigh and turned to head back to his room.

~~~

“Okay, that’ll do for today,” their history tutor said from the front of the schoolroom. “Don’t forget to read pages 71 to 80 by Monday.”

Chair legs scraped along the floor as the Youngers got up from their seats and started gathering their books. They filed out of the schoolroom in an orderly queue, and began walking silently towards the dining room. Their history tutor, Mrs Crabapple, was an old-fashioned woman who believed in children being seen and not heard, and none of them were eager to risk getting shouted at by starting a conversation. They picked up their plates and cutlery by the door to the dining room, and lined up to be served their lunch. The food was one of the worst things about living here, Alvin thought. Surely with all the money the Elders had, they could afford to hire a good cook.

“What are you guys hoping to get for Thanktival this year?” Daisy asked as they waited. “I want the new Spiders and Garfunkel album. My dad promised me that one day when I’m older he’ll take me to see them live.”

“I don’t really care what I get,” Calyx said. “It’s only going to get eaten by Chompus anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s part of the fun imagining what present you would have had,” Alvin said. He took back his plate, now heaped with pasta, thanked Cook and headed to his seat.

“I don’t like Spaghetti,” Barry said, dropping his fork with a clatter. “Why do we never have anything other than Spaghetti?”

“My dad says that if you don’t tidy your bedroom Imperatrix will turn your toes into Spaghetti,” Daisy said.

“That’s not true,” Calyx interrupted. “You’re not five anymore. You should know better than to believe what your dad tells you.”

“It is true!” Daisy protested, banging his fist on the table.

“No, it’s not,” Alvin said.

Irk sniffled suddenly, and the four of them turned to see him sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest. “I don’t want Imperatrix to get me,” he said quietly, his voice tear-filled. “I just want to go home!”

Everyone fell silent. After a short pause, Irk said, “I’m scared.”

Alvin got to his feet and rounded the table, sitting down next to Irk and putting his arms around his shoulders.

“I want to go home too,” he said. “I’ve never spent Thanktival without my mum before.”

“I’m scared,” Calyx said. “I’m scared that I’ll never get to make snowmen with my dad on Thanktival Eve again.”

“I’m scared that Imperatrix will win the war, and that I’ll have to go and live somewhere far away and never see anyone I know ever again,” Daisy said.

“I’m scared of Mrs Crabapple,” Barry said. Everyone let out a small laugh, and even Irk managed a smile.

“We’re all scared,” Alvin said. “We all wish everything would go back to normal already. But we aren’t alone. We can be scared together.”

~~~

That afternoon, as soon as their lessons were over, Alvin went up to his room and pulled out the drawer underneath his bed. He rummaged through his collection of wool until he found his crochet hook, and then picked out as many festive colours as he could and got to work. He kept at it all evening and throughout most of the night, until his fingers were stiff and his back ached. He worked until the candle on his bedside table had burnt down to the wick, then lit a new one and kept working. He locked his window and drew his curtains when he noticed it had gone past midnight—he knew Imperatrix wasn’t really coming to turn his fingers into spiders, but he wasn’t taking any chances. When he was finally done, he folded his creations into a neat pile at the foot of his bed, and was able to get about two hours of sleep before he had to get up for breakfast.

Despite the almost-all-nighter, he practically leapt out of bed when he heard the bell ringing downstairs to wake them up. He quickly changed into a clean set of clothes, before shoving his creations into a satchel and taking the stairs two at a time to get to the dining room.

“Woah, Allie, are you okay?” Barry asked as he joined the breakfast queue. “You look like you’ve barely slept at all.”

“I’ve been working on something. A surprise for all of you,” he said, and refused to clarify any further. They lined up to get their breakfast—leftover Spaghetti from yesterday’s dinner—and only once the others had all taken their seats did Alvin step up to the head of the table.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what Irk said at lunch yesterday. And I know… I know none of us want to be here, I know this isn’t how we’d have chosen to spend Thanktival. But… that doesn’t mean we can’t still make the best we can of the situation. So… I made you all something.” He reached into his satchel. “Calyx, this one’s for you… and Irk, this one’s yours… Daisy, this one’s for you… and Barry… and this one’s mine!”

“What are they?” Calyx said, holding his up to look at it.

“They’re Thanktival jumpers!” Alvin said proudly, beaming at his fellow Youngers. “It’s a tradition from the Other World that I read about. They’re supposed to be Thanktival-themed, normally, but I made all of yours unique for you.” Calyx’s jumper showed a snowman, like he’d mentioned making with his dad. Irk’s had a ruff around the neck, of the kind Vex usually wore. Daisy’s had lyrics from a song off of the new Spiders and Garfunkel album. Barry’s had his dad’s war medals across the chest. And Alvin’s own jumper had the design of a quill, like the one his mum carried.

“So it’s like a Thanktival present?” Daisy said. “But it’s not Thanktival Eve yet.”

“No, no! Don’t think of them as Thanktival presents,” Alvin said. “I don’t want them to get eaten by Chompus. I want you to keep them.”

“Why?” Calyx asked. “You didn’t have to go to all this effort.”

“I… I wanted us all to have something to make this Thanktival special for a good reason,” Alvin said. “Something we could all be happy about.”

“I love it,” Irk said, pulling his jumper over his head and messing up his curly hair in the process. “Thank you, Allie.”

“Yes, thank you, Allie,” Calyx agreed, and the others followed suit. Alvin grinned and began putting his own jumper on.

Maybe this Thanktival wouldn’t be all bad, he thought to himself. Maybe just because he wasn’t at home with mum didn’t mean he wasn’t among family.

#yonderland #yonderland fanfic #scribe elder ho tan #elders youngers #12 days of thanktival

[loveshotzz]

12 -mutual masturbation while camping in a tent. 

maybe tough girl finally gets to go on the annual camping trip :)

A/N:Thank you for your request angel, the way I had to write this immediately. I love this, I love you and I love them. 💗 this request comes from my completed series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. All you need to know is he calls you Tough Girl, you’ve been dating a year and he’s got a dog named Bandit.

wc: 2k

warnings: 18+, established relationship, age gap (reader is 30 and Steve is 42) slight somno I guess? reader is touching herself but not him, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, semi public.

AIRWIY!older!steve x fem! reader

The birds chirping stirs you first, the sunlight leaking through the half opened flap at the front of the tent, second. Eyes shifting behind closed lids that aren’t ready to open yet, the soft sound of Steve’s slumbered breathing next to you brings the beginning of a smile tugging up at the corners of your lips. The clinking of metal from Bandit’s leash outside is what finally gets you to open your eyes. You’d heard Steve in a daze take him out to pee before letting him bring in the sunrise outside the tent, quickly realizing this was the dog’s favorite part of these getaways.

The air mattress makes a noise that has you cringing when you roll over on the spread out sleeping bags to get a better look at him, the fresh humidity making your skin stick to it. You can’t stop that sigh that slips past your lips at the sight as he takes up room on his back. His permanent bed head is even messier than normal from a night under the stars with your hands in his hair and the stubble that lines his jaw rubbing the inside of your thighs raw. Rejuvenated after a shower that washed off the first two days of the trip.

The streaks of gray that sprinkle through his honey locks stand out even more in the daylight. The crows feet and laugh lines that you’d like to think got deeper in his first year with you are smoothed out in his sleep. You can’t help but wonder what he’s dreaming about, secretly hoping it’s you and not just the morning that has the blood rushing south.

His chest is bare, the dark thatch of hair in the middle looking soft in the warm light, the moles and freckles that dot his tan skin beg to be kissed, just like the sun had the pleasure of doing all weekend. One leg is kicked out of the covers, revealing a low hanging pair of black mesh shorts giving you a peek at the faint hint of a tan line from your days hiking down to the lake. A big hand lays spread across his stomach while the other looks like it got halfway across the small space between you on the search for yours before he fell back asleep.   

Your thighs press together in your small sleep shorts, searching for some kind of friction that you know won’t be enough for the low simmer that’s already started deep in your gut. Why did he always have to look so good? 

Steve licks his full lips, and you can’t help the way your hand starts to wander towards the ache between your legs that’s begging for attention. Fighting with your self control, your nerves ring in your ears and you swear the birds outside get louder when the tips of your fingers start to play with your waist band. 

You freeze when he grunts, blunt nails scratching his stomach making the muscles in his pecs flex. The slight pinch of his brows when something happens in his dream is enough for you to push past the elastic, your fingertips meeting your already dripping folds with a shaky breath through your nose.

Your hips roll, your pointer and index finger spreading your lips apart before the pads of them catch your bundle of nerves when you drag them back up with enough pressure to make you whimper. They don’t feel as good as his, and your heavy lidded gaze focuses on his hand spread across his stomach as you add a third finger to try and mimic the feeling. It’s almost enough and it makes you have to bite your lip to keep quiet, the sound of how wet you already are is almost enough to compete with the growing sounds of the woods coming alive.

“Fuck - honey,” Steve’s voice startles you, thick with sleep and the unmistakable gravel of want, “Why didn’t you wake me up if you needed me so bad huh?”

Your eyes meet his, and all you can do is whine in response when you see all the colors usually inside of them first thing in the morning are gone. The bright greens and gold specks are replaced with something dark and hungry, jaw a little slack while his own hand reaches down, squeezing his now fully hard length over his shorts to relieve some of the throb.  

“You know I’d never say no to you,” He whispers, his own hips rocking into his palm. You start to push two fingers in, your greedy walls fluttering despite the embarrassment of being caught making heat rise to your cheeks.  “What’s got you so worked up baby?”

He pushes his shorts half way down his hairy thighs, the full thickness of his cock smacking against the dark trail on his stomach. Already leaking, the fat tip of him looks angry as he wraps his fingers around the base, the pad of his thumb swiping over the top making him shudder. He pumps once, twice before rolling over on his side, kicking his shorts all the way off along with the blanket exposing you both to the morning air.

“Come on, don’t be shy now.” He’s closer like this, your noses almost touching and you can smell last night's bonfire still lingering. His eyes roam your body while his wrist sets a slow pace watching your nipples pebble under the thin fabric of your tank when a light breeze ruffles the walls of your tent. 

“Y-you - you just looked so good.” Your confession sounds pathetic, but it makes his eyes squeeze shut and a deep breath exhale through his nose, cock twitching in his big hand before he opens them again. 

He leans in so his lips ghost against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom one before licking into your mouth to steal your breath with the kind of kiss that was usually reserved for late nights after a couple of bottles of wine. 

“Take your shorts off, be good for me and let me see honey.” He pants, already wrecked, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before shifting to sit up, the air mattress making you bounce with the redistribution of his weight giving him the perfect view down every curve and dip of your body. 

Listening to him, you feel more exposed than ever with your legs spread wide despite no one being around. Steve groans at the visual of you like this, the motions of his wrist getting quicker while his free hand reaches down to pull up your tank by the hem, the soft fat of your breasts spilling out for his hungry eyes. It feels dirty and new, touching yourself like this for him and it only adds to the growing slick between your thighs.

“God, I’m so lucky - can’t believe you're mine. Wakin’ up to you like this? So damn pretty, baby - shit.” He groans, already babbling, squeezing hard at the base of his cock when he sees your arousal gleam in the sunlight every time you pull your fingers out, drunk off watching them disappear again.

“I want you all the fucking time, Steve.” You whine hips pushing up when you add a third one, back arching when he tweaks one of your nipples.

“Yeah?” He asks before spitting into his hand, the slick sounds of his palm working his length even harder blending in with the messy way your walls suck you in. “Tell me about it.”

You nod, completely gone by hearing him talk to you like this, curving your fingers just right to hit the spot that makes you keen. A strangled noise leaving his throat when he clocks the way your thighs start to shake, your mind racing with thoughts of him. He needs you to come soon, and when he sees the pad of your thumb start to rub messy circles on your puffy clit he knows he doesn’t have to hold off for very long.

“You’re just so sexy all the time,” it’s your turn to babble and the breathy laugh that leaves him makes you clamp around your fingers even tighter despite wishing you could roll your eyes, “Those fucking running shorts, your suits, god I want you to bend me over your desk so bad. I think about it all the - ohhhh- a lot.” 

“Jesus - baby, m’gonna have you meet me for lunch when we get back, god wear that short little dress, yeah? I’ll give you what you want, shit - anything you want.” He stutters feeling himself start to get close, your confessions bringing him to the edge. 

“I - mmm- I won’t wear any underwear.” You giggle before your mouth falls open, the band inside of you dangerously close to snapping at the thought of him behind his desk and the predatory way he’d watch the sway of your hips knowing you’re bare and already soaked for him underneath. 

“Dirty girl,” He moans and you hear the back of his head slide against the tent, “my dirty girl.”

Looking up, your eyes roam the way his chest heaves the closer he gets to his climax, sweat beading and starting to drip down his neck where the veins protrude. His gaze is heavy and hot, and it doesn’t leave you, it begs you to fall apart for him. He watches how your eyes glaze over, completely wrecked at the sight of him and the corner of his mouth turns up.

“Gonna be good and come for me now?” It’s soft when he asks despite how filthy the sounds echoing in the tent are, and when you nod with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, his grin widens. “Of course you are, always so good, so sweet.”

The last part comes out strained, his cock twitching catching the way your thighs start to shut when the drag of your fingers in your cunt becomes deliberate. You were close. The hand that he’s kept on the dough of your breast reaches down to pull your knees apart tutting under his breath.

“I wanna see it, let me have it, come on baby.”

His words are enough for you to push your head back into the pillow, your leg fighting against his firm grip to shut as the rubber band finally snaps. His name falls from lips long and drawn out, a high pitch whine that turns into a gasp and a shuddered loud moan when he pushes your hand away to replace it with his. Thick fingers collect everything you give him, pulling even more from you when he dips inside to hit the spot you could barely reach, praising you as you come even harder.

The feeling of your velvet walls squeezing tight around him brings Steve over the edge, gasping your name with a guttural groan that vibrates from his chest as he spills across his thighs and stomach. Chest heaving from the force of it, the visual of you spread out and falling apart for him makes him see white with his release.

The only sounds are your labored breathing, and a forest that’s come alive in the daylight.  You hear Bandit shuffle around to move to another spot following the moving sun as it gets higher in the sky, warming the tent more. Steve is gentle when he pulls out of you, bending down to kiss your sweaty forehead before grabbing his basketball shorts. He chuckles, wiping himself down feeling like a teenager again with nothing else around to clean himself up, your breathy giggle making his teeth shine in a wide grin before he lays himself back down. 

There’s zero hesitation to pull you to his chest despite the growing stickiness with the heat, peppering kisses across your face before collecting your lips in something a little sweeter.

“Morning, tough girl.” 

#my writing #leighanne practices smut blurbs #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic