#best lip balm for peeling lips

[earthtooz]

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[kentobb]

PRESAGE | CHAPTER ONE

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of teen pregnancy, pregnancy in general, suggestive of smut?

Author’s note: Welcome to this new series! <3 I’m excited for this one.

May 14th 2012

As the soft, morning light streamed through the frosted window of the girl’s bathroom, illuminating the somber space, you sat perched on the edge of the sink, heart hammering against your chest in a symphony of nerves and fear.

It was the last day of your third year in Shiratorizawa, a day that should have been filled with joy and celebration, but instead, it was cloaked in trepidation.

With trembling hands, you clutched the pregnancy test, its result still hidden behind a veil of anticipation. The seconds stretched on endlessly, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in the confined space.

You are scared, not just of the possibility of being pregnant, but of the aftermath, of what it meant for your future, for your dreams, for everything you had planned.

On the other side of the bathroom door, your best friend, Asami, leaned against the cold tiles, offering you words of comfort and solace through the barrier. "It's going to be okay," she reassured you, her voice a soothing balm in the stormy sea of emotions. "The results don't define you, no matter what they show."

As the alarm on your watch chimed, signaling the moment of truth, your breath got caught in your throat. Slowly, you peeled the gaze away from the test, the lines on the stick blurring in your tear-filled eyes. And then, with a shaky inhale, you looked down.

Positive.

The word hung in the air like a guillotine, sealing your fate with its finality. You crumpled, hands flying to your face as sobs wracked your body, the weight of the situation crashing down upon you like a tidal wave.

Asami, attuned to your cries, pushed open the door and enveloped you in a tight embrace, holding you close as you let out the fears and doubts in a torrent of tears.

You both sank to the floor together, the anonymity of the bathroom offering a cocoon of safety in the shared vulnerability.

After a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing, Asami whispered hoarsely, "Who's the father?"

And after a beat, Asami’s eyes widened in shock as the name slipped past your trembling lips.

"Ushijima Wakatoshi."

Ushijima Wakatoshi was the enigma that had wandered into your life unexpectedly, his presence casting a shadow of intrigue that had captivated you from the moment both of you crossed paths. A star athlete, with a stoic demeanor and a brilliance that shone in the classroom as much as it did on the volleyball court, he was a figure of admiration and respect among his classmates.

Paths had converged when you were assigned as his math tutor, a task that had seemed daunting at first but had quickly blossomed into a shared bond of intellectual curiosity and mutual understanding. Through hours spent poring over equations and theorems, you had come to know him beyond the facade of his stoicism, glimpsing the vulnerabilities that lay beneath the surface.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a connection had blossomed between the both of you, a fragile thread of emotions that had woven itself into the fabric of interactions.

You had fallen for him, captivated by the complex layers that made up the enigma of Ushijima Wakatoshi.

And after being invited by him to hang out at Tendo’s house for a party, one thing lead to another, and you thought that you meant the world to him.

But your heart had fractured when he had dismissed what happened that special night as a mistake, a fleeting moment of weakness that he had no room for in his disciplined life.

His words had cut deep, leaving wounds that festered with each passing day as he distanced himself from you, avoiding your gaze and any semblance of acknowledgment.

Almost like you never existed for him.

The rejection had crushed you, shattering the illusion of something more between you and leaving you adrift in a sea of unspoken emotions.

And when your period had failed to arrive, a gnawing fear had settled in the pit of your stomach, driving you to seek out the truth with a pregnancy test.

And now, as you sat in the bathroom with the weight of your revelation heavy upon you, the name of Ushijima Wakatoshi lingered in the air like a specter of what could have been, a painful reminder of a love unreciprocated.

The weight of your revelation was a burden too heavy to bear alone, and as the afternoon sun bathed the school grounds in a golden glow, you mustered the courage to seek out for him, determined to lay bare the truth. Through the maze of hallways and bustling corridors, you pursued his elusive figure, a sense of urgency propelling you forward despite the ache in her heart.

And then, as if guided by fate, you heard snippets of conversation drifting from the gym, drawing you closer with a magnetic pull. Peering through the crack in the door, you saw Ushijima standing tall and resolute, his words a declaration of achievement and ambition as he shared the news of his acceptance to college, a place where his passion for volleyball would flourish under the guidance of his Coach Washijo.

Washijo turned, his stern expression softening just a fraction at the sight of his star player. "Ushijima. What is it?"

"I've been accepted into college," Ushijima announced, stepping into the gym. "And I’ve received offers to play for several top volleyball teams."

For a moment, Washijo was silent, absorbing the news. Then, a rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "That's excellent, Wakatoshi. You've worked hard for this. You deserve every offer you’ve received."

The sight of him, radiant with the promise of a bright future, struck you like a dagger to the heart, a realization dawning upon you with a crushing weight.

How could you disrupt the trajectory of his dreams, shatter the pristine glass of his aspirations with the revelation of a life-altering secret?

You wiped a tear from your cheek. Your last act of love would be to step back, to let him soar without the weight of your news pulling him down.

With a deep breath, You turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. With silent footsteps and a resolve as fragile as glass, you left the school that day without saying goodbye, without confessing your heart's deepest secret to the man who had unknowingly held it in his hands. And as you disappeared into the embrace of the uncertain future that lay ahead, you carried with the weight of a love left unspoken, a sacrifice made in the name of a dream that was never meant to be.

Comments, notes or reblogs are appreciated <3 let me know what you think of chapter one :)

[doumadono]

Hello, dear writer!

I am so sorry to bother you but I have an Emergency Request.

For the past few months I am under a big stress. I just go trought some challenge in my life that isn't easy for me... Recently I noticed that I picked a not so great habit of... Ripping the dry skin off my lips... I do it no matter if it hurts, if my lips bleed or if I have visible scabs later on.

I do have history or harming myself so I think it's this mixed of both stress and the self hate.

Could you maybe do a fic with Nanmi, noticing his girlfriend doing this to herself and him trying to somehow stop her and comfort her.

I'd love some comfort.

Thank you, all the best wishes and lots of kisses for you! 🦈❤️

The inner peace - Nanami x Reader

A/N: I'm saddened to hear that you're going through such a difficult time. It's important to prioritize your well-being. Instead of tearing at your lips, consider finding healthier outlets for stress, like deep breathing exercises, journaling, or even talking to someone you trust. Taking small steps can make a big difference

JUJUTSU KAISEN EMERGENCY REQS

Amidst the quiet hum of their shared apartment, Nanami could feel a subtle shift in the air. The once vibrant atmosphere had given way to a somber undercurrent, and it didn't escape his keen perception. The rhythmic sound of pages turning was interrupted by a soft, almost imperceptible sound — his girlfriend's lips parting in a sigh.

Nanami lowered his book, fixing his gaze on the woman sitting across from him. Your eyes, usually brimming with vitality, now held a shadow that hadn't been there before. He observed the subtle telltale signs — a nervous twitch of your fingers, a hesitant glance, and the undeniable evidence on your lips.

You sat there, absently peeling away at the dry skin, as if trying to shed a layer of the stress that had settled upon your shoulders.

Nanami closed his book and placed it on the table, a quiet acknowledgment of the moment that demanded his attention. "Hey," he spoke softly, choosing his words with care. "Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Her gaze met yours, a mixture of surprise and vulnerability. You nodded, and Nanami shifted in his seat, moving closer to you. "Everything okay?" he inquired, though he already sensed the answer.

You hesitated, as if debating whether to share the burden you carried.

Nanami waited patiently.

Finally, you spoke, the words tumbling out like fragile confessions. "I don't know, Nanami. I've been stressed, and I picked up this habit. It's like... I can't stop, even if it hurts."

He regarded you with a thoughtful expression. "It's okay. We all have our ways of coping. But this," he gestured towards your lips, "isn't a solution. Let me help."

Nanami reached out, gently taking your hand to still the anxious fingers that continued their relentless assault. His touch was warm, a soothing balm to the invisible wounds you carried. As he delicately intertwined your fingers, he spoke with a measured calmness. "You don't have to face everything alone. I'm here for you, remember? Whenever you feel low, you can come to me and pour your sadness out."

You met his gaze, the vulnerability in your eyes mirrored in his own. For a moment, you simply sat there, connected by the unspoken promise of support. You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty lingering in the air like an unspoken truth. "It's just stress, I guess," you admitted, your voice a fragile whisper. "And I don't want to be a burden to you."

"You don't deserve to hurt yourself," Nanami remarked, his words carrying a quiet determination. "Let me help you carry the burden. You're not alone in this."

"But you have a lot of your own stuff to deal with..." You argued.

"Let me help you," he demanded, reaching for a small container on the nightstand. The lid unscrewed with a soft click, revealing a soothing lip balm. Nanami dipped his fingers into the balm, the delicate fragrance filling the air as he applied it gently to your lips. The act was tender, a symbol of care and healing, each stroke a promise to mend what had been broken. "This might help," he said, his touch lingering as he met your gaze with a sincerity.

"You didn't get it, Kento!" Your voice trembled with a mixture of frustration and self-doubt. "I didn't want to be a bother. I didn't want you to worry about me. I thought I should be able to handle this on my own."

"You weren't a bother," he insisted, his voice calm but resolute. "Your well-being mattered to me. I want to be there for you, through the good and the bad."

You shook your head, the weight of your internal struggles evident in the lines that etched across your forehead. "But I thought I should be strong enough to handle this alone, just like you are..."

Nanami sighed, a soft exhale that carried the weight of understanding. "Strength isn't about facing everything alone. It's about recognizing when you need support and having the courage to seek it."

A conflicted expression played on your features as you wrestled with your own convictions. "I just…"

Nanami reached for your hands, a gentle squeeze emphasizing his sincerity. "You are more than enough. But that doesn't mean you have to face everything alone. We all need someone to lean on, and I want to be that someone for you."

Tears welled in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the vulnerability you had tried so hard to conceal. "I just didn't want you to see me as weak."

Nanami's thumb brushed away a tear that escaped, his touch gentle but firm. "Vulnerability doesn't equate to weakness. It takes strength to open up, to let someone in."

You sighed, a mixture of defeat and acceptance lingering in the air. "I'm sorry."

Nanami's expression softened, his gaze unwavering. "You will never be a burden, and you don't disappoint me. I care about you. Please, don't apologize. But the next time you feel low, just come and talk to me. I am not a mind reader after all," he joked lightly.

In the quiet moments that followed, the weight of the conversation lingered, and without uttering another word, you found solace in the warmth of Nanami's presence. "Thank you," you whispered, a simple phrase carrying the weight of genuine appreciation. "For always being so caring, for being there when I needed it the most."

[ker0senebunny]

meet me behind the mall✫*ﾟ･ﾟ

steve harrington x fem!reader

part ii — 9/25/22

summary: steve was never yours to lose. you went in knowing that, but god, you'd give anything to go back to that summer. a tale of childhood enemies, kisses in cars, and the best summer of your life. inspired by my favorite track from folklore. enemies to almost lovers. focuses primarily on seasons 2, 3, and 4. (angst, fluff, smut)

warnings: afab!fem!reader, language, angst, fluff, smut (18+), dom!steve strikes again except he's a lil meaner, sub!reader, drinking/use of alcohol, but no use of sir or daddy etc, praise + degredation combo yktv, oral (m!recieving, mentions of f!receiving), mentions of penetration (pls remember to practice safe sex!!), mentions of fingering, use of pet names, size kink (for like one second), dirty talk, no use of y/n, kinda asshole!steve but pt ii is gonna be more soft s3 steve. promise. all characters are 18+, beta'd (freakin finally) by @flwersgarden, @royalmaybank, @appocalipse, and @kissmxcheek

word count: 9,596 (jeez. now u all see why it took so long)

notes: first of all: thank you to my absolutely lovely proofreaders/editers/besties. you all are always kind, always encouraging, always loving. you motivate me on my most unmotivated days. i admire you all so much as writers and as wonderful people. with that being said, it's been a while, hasn't it! so sorry for the delay. college is very overwhelming! anyways, as you see above, the sequel will (hopefully) be out in two weeks. this is part i of iii so strap in everybody. enjoy! xox olive

p.s. 500 followers wtf??? thankyou im gonna stinkin cry. and as always, reblogs are greatly appreciated. thank u for the lurv (srsly)

when steve harrington loves someone, he makes it known. which perfectly explains why he didn’t want to make you known.

you wanted him to be the boy who walked you up your driveway, moths fluttering against the porch light overhead. you wanted him to take your chin between his fingers and tilt your lips toward his. you wanted to taste the watermelon lip balm he’d borrowed from you. you wanted him to wait until you unlocked the door, almost slipping inside, before turning around to feel the plush of his lips against yours just once more.

and you foolishly believed that he could be that boy.

instead, you got rushed calls asking you to meet him behind the mall in his BMW and a stupid nickname.

steve was probably your greatest enemy (no, you’re not exaggerating. a years-long feud has earned him that title). but it was fine. after all, you had your best friend robin. the two of you were planning on moving to california after high school, dreaming of a shabby apartment with peeling paint that you’d cover up with photos of friends and posters. maybe you’d coparent a cat. you didn’t even know what you wanted to do with your life, yet. you just couldn’t handle hawkins anymore. it was a drab little town, rusted and decaying. not quite past its prime — there wasn’t really ever a prime. you just wanted more.

steve was your next door neighbor. to say things had been rocky between the two of you would be an understatement. your parents were on good terms, and you and steve used to be sort-of-maybe-kind-of friends.

it all started when an ice cream truck pulled onto your ritzy street. you ran out of your house at full force: nine years old, with one tooth missing in the front. you had begged your mom for her spare change right before you sprinted out the door. you just had to get the last cherry ice pop. but someone was there before you; you watched as the truck driver placed a red “x” over your precious ice pop flavor. you were dejected, preparing to go back inside when you caught a glimpse of a striped shirt out of the corner of your eye. it was steve harrington, your older next door neighbor who lived just over the fence to the right of you. you threw a determined look in the direction of the brown-haired boy before marching up to him. you tapped him on the shoulder and he looked at you, confusedly. you held out your little palm, coins clinking and set in the center.

“i’ll pay you extra for that ice pop,” you said, your mouth set into a serious line. steve seemed interested, quirking his brows up, hazel eyes shimmering in the indiana humidity. “how much do you have?” he asked, nodding at your hand. you counted the coins in your hand. “i have one dollar. and i know you paid fifteen cents for that ice pop. i’ll give you the whole dollar for it.” he pondered your deal for a couple of seconds before saying, “nah, i’m good!” and walking around you, back toward his house. you turned around to chase him as as he walked toward his house. “please, steve! cherry is my favorite,” you begged, putting on your best pitiful face that always worked on your parents and stopping right in front of him. you watched as his face changed, and you thought you’d won. “oh cherry’s your favorite?” he asked. you nodded so vigorously that your summer dress waved in the muggy air. “tough luck,” he said before unwrapping the ice pop and taking a big bite in front of you. you stood there, mouth agape as he exaggeratedly enjoyed what should’ve been your ice pop, right in front of you no less! he licked his crimson-dyed mouth as he threw the barren popsicle stick into the garbage can in his driveway. “see you around, cherry,” he said as he walked up to his porch and slammed the door to his house.

that’s how you became cherry to steve and steve only. he annoyed you every day of your life with that stupid fucking nickname.

on your first day of freshman year, you popped into the entrance of hawkins high with robin, your best friend since middle school. steve saw you, whistled, and yelled down the hall, causing everyone to stare at you: “hey, sweet cherry! look at you, all grown up.” your excited face morphed into a fiery glare as you angrily walked past him, skirt swishing. his goons howled and cackled as you seethed, robin turning around to flip them off.

it wasn’t like the two of you fought every time you were around one another. okay, it totally was. but it was because he was such an insufferable dickhead and you were definitely not going to take his bullshit lying down.

he started dating nancy during your sophomore year, something you learned as you walked to his car in the morning, opening the door to the passenger side before his hand shot out to stop you. you rolled your eyebrows. “steve, i have a big history test today and i’m not in the mood for whatever the fuck you’re doing.” he rolled his eyes back at you. “we’re picking up my girlfriend,” he said, kicking at the loose gravel in his driveway. your eyebrows flew to the top of your forehead. “girlfriend?” your voice rising so high in pitch that it came out as a squeak. “and you haven’t managed to be an utter douche yet?” he rolled his eyes so hard you were afraid they'd get stuck there. “just get in the backseat, cherry,” he said as he slid into the car.

you looked at the smooth leather incredulously as steve adjusted his rearview mirror. you gingerly pushed your bag into the car, making sure your body touched the seat as little as possible. “i don’t even want to know what’s happened back here,” you said as you shuddered. steve caught your gaze in the mirror, a piece of gum popped in his mouth. “y’know, cherry, you’ve had many chances to find that out for yourself,” he said with a teasing lilt to his lips. you scrunched your nose in disgust and made a retching noise. “i’d rather drink a t-shirt through a straw,” you said in a huff. to your surprise, he actually laughed.

you hadn’t been paying attention, choosing to review your history notes one more time and so you didn’t realize you pulled up to the wheeler house. now, you were extra intrigued. steve honked twice and rolled down the window as nancy wheeler approached, giving her a kiss at which you gagged. he glared at you through the rearview mirror.

“nancy, you know cherry. my enemy,” he said as he pulled out of her driveway, a hand on the back of the passenger seat. you saw the veins and tendons in his arm flex under suntanned skin from a summer of lake days and pineapple sunscreen. nancy gave you a shy smile, which you returned. you also told her your real name and explained to her that for some reason, her dipshit boyfriend couldn’t let go of something that happened when you were kids. she laughed prettily at your words and a weird feeling settled on your chest, an unwelcome and quite frankly, bothersome weight. she returned to a gooey conversation with steve, letting you simmer uncomfortably in the backseat.

you blocked out their lovey-dovey-whatever-the-fuck with your flash cards.

you hated yourself for it, but when steve and nancy started falling apart, you were kind of glad. you’d actually gotten pretty close to nancy because of all the carpooling, often seeking one another out during your classes to giggle about something one of the basketball jocks said. so you hated yourself for your glee at seeing them leave separately at a halloween party. you didn’t even really understand why it felt like that intrusive weight had been lifted from your chest. you convinced yourself that you were just relieved that youur dear friend dumped that idiot.

at the moment, you were dressed up in your sluttiest costume, batting away gross high school boys who tried to woo you. you were dressed as a pixie: a form fitting, dark green dress, so short that the distressed skirt barely brushed the top of your thighs. you finished off your look with a cute pair of wings. you were just trying to enjoy the night with robin; the two of you made it a habit to people-watch at these things. well, because drunk people were funny and easy to make fun of. it’s not mean, it’s just the truth.

you saw steve walk in and immediately nudged robin to snort at his stupid risky business costume, but then he took his sunglasses off. and he saw you. and he looked you up and down over the edge of those stupid sunglasses. and he ran his stupid tongue over his stupid pretty mouth. and maybe it was the vodka running through you (cherry flavored of course), but god, in that moment, you just wanted him.

you shook yourself from your lustful stare and broke eye contact with him. he slipped his glasses back on and followed a very distressed looking nancy deeper into the party. again, probably the cherry vodka, but you didn’t seem to notice her coming your way. she called your name to get your attention and an easy smile made its way onto your face. “nance!” you giggled as you moved to squeeze her. she laughed at your tipsy self and made sure that you were okay before giving steve an unsure look and getting herself a drink. you were left with steve as he took off his sunglasses again, just to look you in the eye. you looked to your left, but robin was nowhere to be seen.

“you look good, cherry,” he said lowly, taking you in once again.

your breathing was a little uneven. “tha-thank you,” you said, looking at your green fingernails against the red of the solo cup in your suddenly clammy hands. he leaned one arm against the wall behind you, blocking your view of the kitchen.

“really good,” he said at a volume only you could hear. you shuddered as you felt blood rush to the surface of your cheeks, warming them to the touch. it was definitely the alcohol in your body because here you were, getting horny over steve fucking harrington. a) your enemy and b) the boyfriend of one of your friends. thank god said friend returned that instant, pulling steve away to dance, seemingly refreshed by a shot of tequila. you gave nancy's hand a squeeze before she left, mouthing the words “call me later” at her. you thought that something was off with her. obviously, she was still grieving barb’s death - something that she confided in you. but you had a feeling that there was more there.

sometimes, it’s scary how on the nose you are with things.

at least an hour ago, robin told you that she was going to walk home with vickie, a girl who was in marching band with her. you were a comfortable amount of tipsy: the kind of drunk where every blink feels like a new, warmly-tinted world. but not so drunk that you’d make catastrophic decisions.

you didn’t need alcohol to do that.

you decided that it was time to leave. you’d finally gotten bored of watching all the people you knew make a fool of themselves. you walked outside, past cups littered on the lawn and through the october chill, to see steve sitting in his car - alone. you furrowed your brow before crossing your arms to create a little warmth and walking over. you gently knocked on the driver’s side window, startling the boy. he had a vacant look in his red-rimmed eyes. steve rolled down the window before sighing out, “cherry, i’m really not in the mood to fight right now.”

now you had to know what happened.

“i’m not here to fight with you,” you said as you leaned in closer, “i saw you when i came out and just wanted to check in.” you said it so plainly, like it was an obvious truth and not a huge contradiction to the entirety of your relationship. steve felt like his lungs had started again. he rolled up the window before pushing open the passenger seat door. you’d just barely settled into the seat and closed the door before he said, “nance told me she doesn’t love me.” you turned to face him. “steve, she was super drunk-“ he looked at you with more raw emotion than you’d ever seen from him. “cherry.” he stopped you in the middle of your sentence. “i know that she meant it.” you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t know how to handle comforting the one person you’d hated for what felt like a lifetime.

you turned your whole body to face him before stretching across the console to give him an awkward hug. he went stiff in your grasp as you looped your arms around his shoulders. “what the hell are you-“ “shut up, dipshit,” you said, “i’m giving you a goddamn hug. just accept it. you can win her back, y’know? you can be sort of sweet, sometimes.” he actually relaxed at your words and pushed his cheek into the space between your collarbone and your neck. you felt him inhale against your skin and your flesh pebbled. he slowly wrapped his arms around you too, pulling you into him. you squeaked in surprise and he chuckled, the warmth and the vibrations of his low voice extended through your entire being. “thank you, cherry. needed this.” you hummed. “of course, steve. i don’t actually hate you, did you not know that?” you felt him shrug. “honestly? i couldn’t tell.” you threw your head back and laughed, the sound taking up the small amount of space in his car. as you stopped laughing, you noticed that you were almost on his lap, your hands moving to rest against his broad chest. his pretty pink pout inched closer toward yours. there was a fraction of an inch between the two of you. “steve,” you said softly into the air between you two, “we can’t. there’s still nance to think about. you haven’t actually broken up yet.” he shook his head, a hand coming to rest on your hip. you could feel the warmth of his hand through your flimsy skirt. “there’s no nance. there’s only you right now, cherry.”

when steve harrington kisses someone, he wants them to feel it. and he wants them to feel it everywhere.

you definitely did.

he pushed his silken lips to join yours, sending you into a spiral, body thrumming with feverish passion. his kiss was needy, as if you were a replacement for someone else but he just needed someone. but you didn’t care. because that wasn’t the craziest thing about this…entire experience. your arms had wound themselves around his neck, his arms around your waist, tugging you across the console.

of course, you tasted like cherries. steve groaned as he caught your bottom lip in his teeth, silently asking you to open your mouth for him. your little gasp allowed him to slip is tongue into your mouth; his big hands tugging you even more into his lap. he kissed you like it would be the last thing he ever did on this godforsaken earth. you clumsily crawled to his seat, planting yourself in his lap. you both laughed into the kiss, before melding your lips together once again. he kissed you breathless, watching as your lips shone with a mixture of his and your spit. he pulled you toward him to plant another passionate kiss on your mouth, before making his way down your neck. steve sucked little bruises into the column of your throat and savored the taste of your sweet soap. he left a vine of dark, blooming spots as you writhed and shivered on top of him. you pitched your hips over his, causing your clothed core to run over the ridge of his growing bulge. he kissed all the way down to your chest, running his hands up and down your sides, causing you to shiver. he bit down gently on the swell of your left breast, gently sliding his hand under the delicate strap of your dress, pulling down on the elastic to reveal your entire breast. you pushed your chest forward and he grunted out a laugh as he wrapped his pink pout around your stiffened, pert nub. you were throwing your head back to give him more access to your tits, lost in the pleasure, when suddenly his horn beeped — startling you both. you looked at him with your matching kiss-stung lips, your eyes wide. he was still breathing heavily.

you looked at the dark sparkle of steve’s eyes and the flush to the tips of his ears. you smiled down and leaned in to kiss him, but he turned his head. you stopped abruptly, smoothing down his collar in a calming motion. “is everything okay?” you asked delicately. even though your bodies were pressed together, you and steve couldn't have been further from one another. he ran a hand over his face and sighed. “i can’t do this cherry.” you gave him a small smile of pained understanding and slid off of his lap.

he put the car into drive.

the ride toward both of your houses was silent, save for the wind rushing past the window you opened. you’d needed to cool off after what had just occurred; you may have betrayed one of your friends by furiously making out with her boyfriend (who she thinks you hate) and you kissed steve harrington. the boy who gave you the dumbest nickname he could think of so he could use you as personal entertainment.

because that’s what he does. he uses people.

steve pulled up to your house, and as you moved to open your door, he gently took your wrist in his hold. you halted your movements, turning your head to look at him. “i just want you to know that this didn’t mean anything, cherry. it can't.” you felt as if your brain had plummeted to your feet. you blinked in shock. “what do you mean?” you asked, arms crossed in front of you, brows high. “that. in my car. it didn’t mean anything to me.” you were stunned. he kissed you first, and when you reciprocated, he reciprocated with even more fervor. you scoffed before exiting his car. “you’re never going to find ‘the one’ if you keep treating girls like shit, steve.” you slammed his car door, causing him to jump a little at the force. you trudged up the stairs to your porch as shameful tears burned at your waterline.

you heard the quiet rumble of his car as he waited for you to safely enter your home. your fingers trembled in the crisp fall air as you slipped through your door. he simply turned to go to his house. you could see the marks your teeth had left, lavender and garnet winding their way around his neck.

(and then he had the audacity to ignore you for almost an entire week.)

your parents were asleep as you padded up the carpeted stairs. you quietly shut the door to your room, running your hands over your face. there was a post it left atop the phone on your nightstand — a note from your mother. it said that you had a call from nancy and to make sure that you called her back. your still shaking hands picked up the phone, dialing the wheeler family’s number. your slightly drunken brain was all muddled, from both the alcohol and the memory of steve’s plush kisses seared into your skin. so muddled, in fact, that you’d barely remembered that it was past midnight. thankfully, it seemed that nancy was awaiting your call, picking up after only a few rings. you waited for her to say something, calling out her name gently to get her attention, closing your eyes as sobriety started to make your head ache.

”steve and i broke up.”

your eyes popped open in surprise. “what? why?” you spluttered, unsure how to support her. she seemed subtly different — distanced, even. “i don’t think i ever loved him,” she said. she sounded exhausted. “i’m so sorry nance,” you said, heart making a dull, incessant thudding in your ribcage. sure, on a technicality he’d been single, but now he was your friend’s ex. she sighed into the phone. you could picture her curling and uncurling the thick, coiled wire as she talked to you. “eh, it was for the better. he just used me to prove that he could get me, y’know? i don’t think he actually wanted me.” you didn’t say anything. of course you knew better. of course you knew that he did, in fact, actually love her. “what an asshole!” you said indignantly, “give me the word nance and i’ll climb into his room from mine and rock his shit.” her laugh trickled out of the tiny speaker, crackled but joyous. “you always make me feel better,” she said to you in earnest, “thank you. you’re just one of those people who would never hurt me. i’ll call you tomorrow.” your pulse seemed to fall out of your body. but you didn’t tell her that; she needed the you she knew, not the you who almost fucked her ex two seconds after they broke up. “of course, nance. i love you.” that’s what you settled on. you both bid one another good night and hung up the phone. you grabbed your stuffed teddy and curled around it, falling just on the line between consciousness and sleep.

you had a reputation of being a good babysitter so when claudia henderson calls, you pick up. dustin was one of your favorite kids in hawkins, constantly making you laugh with his quips and contagious smile. on that particular fall weekend morning (claudia had a wedding to go to), dustin was determined to see steve. he kept dragging out your name, pestering you with a whiny tone of voice. “please!” he said as you spread mustard on his sandwich at the kitchen counter. “absolutely not!” you sang, keeping up with your rhythmic smearing. dustin groaned and put his head on the counter like a toddler. he said something, but it was muffled by the granite surface. “come again?” you said with a small smile on your face at his antics. dustin raised his head, blowing curls away as they blocked his vision. “he’s just helping me look for dar— i mean, for mews. please?” you sighed at his pleas. you couldn’t deny that your heart clenched at the thought of the innocent boy and his missing cat. “fine,” you said, rinsing off the knife you’d been using and giving dustin his lunch. “but i’m not letting you out of my sight. i’m in charge. capiche?” he nodded and thanked you through his chewing, oblivious to the storm rampaging through your mind at the thought of seeing steve.

you’d been trudging through dry leaves for what felt like hours, but was probably more like 20 minutes. when you’d arrived at this shady meeting spot with dustin, steve spat out your name. you winced internally at the omission of the nickname you claimed to hate. “what’s she doing here, henderson?” he asked, with venom lacing his voice. as if you were the one to initiate a kiss, tell him that it meant nothing, and ignore you for no reason. he was giving dustin quite a look, one you took to mean that he didn’t want you there because of the kiss. what you didn’t know was that steve wanted you as far away as possible from the dangers of the upside down. but of course, you had no idea that steve and dustin had been through literal hell together. “i’m in charge of dustin for today, so i’m staying,” you said, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows in a challenge. “stubborn as always, cherry,” he said into the empty forest, not even bothering to look at you.

so, you spat back, “fuck you, harrington.”

“almost did, baby,” he said over his shoulder.

your mouth was agape. your vision turned white hot with rage at his immaturity. so you did what any rational person would do.

a crack rang out and spread throughout the wood. steve held his cheek where an imprint of your delicate hand was beginning to redden. your own hand stung from the force with which you slapped him, a tingle spreading through your palm. dustin looked on with shock in his big brown eyes. steve just turned toward the abandoned railroad track and began walking, rubbing his jaw.

the two of them were spreading meat all over the forest floor, and when you’d asked, dustin had given you some half-baked excuse. you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it, but you were so stressed out that you let it slide. you walked with your arms crossed to keep out the autumn bluster that permeated your cream-colored sweater. the red ribbon in your hair blew gently in the breeze, and steve thought about his hands embedded in your hair, his mouth on yours, you, in his car. in his bed, waking up to your face. he returned to the present when he heard you ask dustin about if he was sure "mews" was in this “creepy forest.”

you were looking at steve, too. he looked a little too good in his jeans and gray members only jacket. his hair was coiffed over as per usual, but you kept thinking about how you’d mussed it beyond repair the last time you saw him. you felt embarrassment and a little excitement rush to your cheeks as you tried to look anywhere but at him and his stupid, perfect face. and he had a bat with nails in it. why he took it with him to look for a cat, you didn’t know. but it was kind of hot.

he’s a dick, you quickly chastised yourself.

“dude, that’s not how you impress a girl,” you heard steve say. you were intrigued. you knew that dustin probably also told steve about his crush on max, and steve being just so good with girls was about to give him some advice.

“i don’t know. you’re trying way too hard,” steve continued.

dustin rolled his eyes in exasperation. “well, not everyone can have your perfect hair. alright?” he retorted.

steve rolled his eyes right back. “it’s not about the hair, man. the key with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”

you snorted at that, causing both of them to turn to look at you. steve narrowed his eyes as you challenged his words. “got something to add, cherry?” he said with that tone of voice that made you want to tackle him. a small smile made its way to your pretty lips. the same lips that steve couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about. “that’s not how you show a girl that you like her.” dustin was suddenly enraptured by your perspective. “what do i have to do? tell me!” the boy begged you. you laughed at his urgency. “show her that you do care. communicate with her. be clear about what you want with her,” you said with certainty, before continuing, “be kind to her. do something for her that you know she’ll like.” steve was silent. you thought he was upset by you stealing his thunder, but really, he was deep in thought. why was he thinking about you? why was he thinking about how he kept your favorite watermelon lip balm in his car (just in case you needed some. he definitely didn’t use it to see what you’d taste like)? why was he thinking of sneaking through your window to kiss you silly and wake up with his face in your neck, your hands on his back? why was he thinking of you, his cherry, instead of nancy? he blinked to clear his mind of thoughts of you, before grumbling something about the light disappearing.

on that day, you were supposed to be watching dustin. except for the fact that the child you were supposed to keep safe, was very much indeed, missing. you’d called him down for dinner over 15 minutes ago. he told you that he was going to do some homework after your excursion with steve. when no response came from his room, you’d searched the entire henderson household, frantically moving shower curtains and drapery aside. you almost gave up when you saw that the laundry room window was open, and you knew that your favorite little shit had gotten out. you went out into the living room to center yourself as you felt panic sink in. a loud crackle brought you out of your deep breathing. it was one of dustin’s extra walkie talkies on the coffee table. you grabbed it and fiddled with the dial until you heard small voices calling dustin’s name. “dustin! where are you? we’re almost at the junkyard.” a beep, another crackle. “almost there! it was tough to get out, guys. give me a break.” it was dustin. your mind went into protective mode as you shoved your feet into your converse and grabbed the walkie talkie. you rushed outside and took one of the spare bikes in the hendersons' garage before booking it to the old junkyard, the light sinking beneath the horizon and dusting the world around you in night.

when you arrived, you saw dustin and lucas (whom you knew), along with a redheaded girl and wait— steve? “dustin!” you yelled, worry evident in your voice. everyone’s heads whipped toward you, all four sets of eyes equally as wide. you marched toward the group, wading through the darkness and the heavy fog, fully prepared to drag dustin home. “cherry, you can’t be here,” steve said, taking a step toward you. “don’t tell me what to do, harrington. i mean nothing to you, remember?” steve didn’t know how to respond. his mouth moved as he reached for some way to tell you, no, cherry, honey. i can’t let you see this.

“i’m staying,” you said with finality. steve moved to protest again, but you both jumped at a rattling nearby. something growled and steve raised his bat. “cherry, take the kids and get in the bus,” he said, eyes flitting around — alert. “eat shit harring-” “cherry,” he said. he said that stupid nickname like he’d never said it before, urgently, tenderly, begging. you nodded breathing out a little “okay” as you herded the children toward the rusty vehicle. you all peered out as steve called to the creature, taunting it. lucas was looking through his binoculars when he gasped. “steve,” he screamed. “watch out!” steve kept his eyes trained on the monstrosity emerging from the fog. “a little busy here,” he said, licking his lips in anticipation of a fight. “three o’clock!” lucas yelled again. before you knew it, dustin was running toward the bus door, throwing it open, and calling steve’s name, and yelling “abort! abort!” you pulled dustin back in, hands trembling as you saw one of the creatures lunge at steve. he dodged successfully, rolling over the hood of a desolate car. another one launched itself at him and your heart seized in fear. luckily, he was fast enough to swing his bat at it; it landed with a half-whimper, half-growl. you realized that you were screaming now too.

“steve! hurry!” you cried, desperation tearing through in your voice. he was running now, running harder than ever now that he’d heard your sobs for him. he jumped in at the last second, just as you threw your arms out and shut the door. the creature’s body landed with a sickening thud against the door. more creatures gathered with the original, scratching at the door and shaking the bus. you scrambled to get the kids behind you as steve fortified the door. one broke through the door; everyone was yelling but you pushed the kids to the back of the bus as steve beat the monster with his bat. you joined him at the front, taking a nearby metal rod to help, knocking the beast to the ground, where it heaved weakly. one of its brethren saw your attack and charged at you. steve reacted in a heartbeat. he was on the monster in an instant, viciously hitting it with his bat. after a few more seconds, the creature made a shuddering move before laying still. the one previously attacking steve seemed to orient itself. it snarled, all dripping teeth and ragged growls, and threw itself at steve. he was unsuccessful, and to your horror, was about to go for steve’s throat. your name was caught on his tongue as he looked to you for comfort, for anything. and he saw it in your eyes. he saw everything you were afraid to tell him. but then, the monsters seemed to be enchanted by something, something you couldn’t perceive. they suddenly leaped out and off of the bus. relief flowed through your veins as you realized everyone was in tact. steve was in tact. you noticed that the two of you were smushed together as the kids regrouped next to you. you both pretended not to notice that steve’s arm was encircling your waist, rubbing at the sliver of skin that your top revealed.

“what the fuck was that steve?” you breathed out. you felt his chest rise beneath your back. “a demodog.” “a what?” he sucked in a breath, tensing underneath you, before launching into an explanation about all things upside down. at the end of his rant, you were quiet. “that’s why i didn’t want you here,” he said as if he weren’t sure you’d be listening. but you were; he held your attention fully. “i didn’t want you to have to see this.” you turned to face him, interlocking your fingers. “well, i’m sure as hell not leaving you now, harrington.” “as if you could ever stay away from me, cherry baby.”

oh, how right he was.

since steve had revealed the upside down to you, the two of you had been through a lot. more than the average enemies would go through together. he’d been beaten up by billy hargrove (someone you never particularly liked), and you’d sobbed over his bruised face, blood crusting in the little fissures left by billy’s knuckles. he’d woken up, dizzy and in pain to feel the wetness of your tears on his face. “i’m okay, cherry. look at me, hey? i’m fine,” he said, reaching up to put his palm on your cheek. he kept a secure hold on you as you traversed the complex tunnels, crushing you into his chest when he thought you two were about to die in a herd of inter-dimensional monsters. you’d both pulled away quickly, cheeks warm and clearing your throats nervously. surely enemies do that, right?

so now, steve was only more of a pain in your ass. especially since he made your heart flutter, since he made you perk up at just one whiff of rosemary and laundry detergent.

when starcourt mall opened up over the summer, robin got a summer job. the hendersons didn’t really need you as much this summer, and you already had a pretty good babysitting gig going with the waldens who lived on the other side of you. so in your spare time, you’d go visit your best friend.

the only issue was that steve pain-in-your-ass harrington worked with her.

sure, the free ice cream may be worth it, but was it really worth it to see him? especially after that halloween night. at the end of the day, you loved robin more and could shove the stinging thrill of seeing steve to the bottom of your stomach.

the only issue was that he looked too damn good in his dumb fucking sailor uniform. and you kept thinking about kissing him again.

both robin and steve were working today; you were perched behind the counter on a stool that robin had designated for you. though you’d tried to forget about "it" and him, you just couldn’t. yeah, you asked him to forget, but it seemed like he remembered it just as vividly as you did. the two of you tried to stay on opposite sides of the store, which was difficult considering that it was extremely small. and the area behind the counter just had to be narrow. he’d brush by your legs, causing your spine to stiffen and a sharp inhale to make its way down to your lungs. he’d grace you with a faint, “sorry, cherry.” you’d tuck your legs in closer to your seat. you wouldn’t — and couldn’t — look each other in the eye. robin, on the other hand, was completely oblivious, chattering away to you both. you’d noticed that the two of them were getting closer. you weren’t the type of person to tell your friends who they could and couldn’t be friends with, but robin knew that steve used to be your enemy. not used to be, you reminded yourself, he is my enemy.

it was one of the slower days that june — the morning of what would inevitably become the friday rush. the store was quiet, save for the hum of the freezer. you were enjoying your sample of cherry-almond swirl as robin checked the freezer one last time. “shit,” she muttered, sliding one of the frosted doors open. you cocked your head at her, spoon still in your mouth. robin turned to steve. “i have to go refill the cookies and cream. we accidentally put two chocolate chips in. be right back!” she was out the door before either you or steve could offer your help in the larger freezer in the back (aka avoid one another). the hum of the fluorescent lights was louder, grainier, invading your headspace. the edges of the plastic spoon now stung the sides of your mouth and the almond flavor left a bitterness on your tongue. you took the spoon out and chucked it into the “used spoons” cup, all the way from your little stool. “nice shot,” steve said, causing you to whip your head around to look at him, surprise sparking in your eyes at the sound of his voice. “thanks,” you said dryly. it was quiet for a beat before you took the initiative to speak again. “i don’t think i’ve ever told you, but i’m sorry about you and nance,” you said. he gave you a tight smile. “right,” he said, “you two are close.” you mirrored his smile. “yeah. i know you tried your best,” you said awkwardly. “thanks. i just don’t know if i’m meant to have her,” he said with melancholy weaving through his words. steve looked like he wanted to say something else. just as he opened his mouth, you both turned toward the door as you heard robin mumbling about how heavy the ice cream was. steve quickly turned toward you, “meet me behind the mall. after my shift. please?” you nodded slightly, suspicion clouding your eyes. he reached out to squeeze your hand, moving toward the register and giving the standard scoops ahoy greeting as the afternoon rush began.

steve had left scoops maybe fifteen minutes ago. you nibbled at your lip, another spoonful of cherry-almond swirl left a sweetness on your tongue. the coldness sitting in your mouth faded away as you checked the clock again. robin looked at you as you raised your eyes toward the clock again.

“go.”

“what?” you said, only half paying attention, lost in your thoughts about a certain boy’s freckles.

robin dragged out your name with a playful impatience.

“go.” you furrowed your brow as she plunged the scoops ahoy’s grey shag of a mop into soapy water. “dude, it’s okay. i’m getting a ride from my mom. i don’t know who this is about, but if you look at the clock one more time i’ll never give you my blessing to be with them,” she said as she slapped the mop on the tiled floor.

you looked at robin, still chewing your lip, plastic spoon in hand. “you sure, robbie?” she flashed you a toothy smile. “promise, cherry,” she said with a wink. “don’t you dare call me that, buckley,” you said as you tossed your spoon and pulled on your cardigan. she cackled as you swung open the door, turning left toward the parking lot. you made a sharp right through the food court to get to the back of the mall. through the smudgy, glassy exterior, you could see steve’s face illuminated by the lights in his BMW. you took a calming, deep breath as you pushed through the doors. steve’s windows were open; you could hear music coming out (you could swear that it was the talking heads). you smiled unconsciously at his choice. maybe somewhere along the line, in between dusty, rotting alternate dimensions and “placid” morning car rides, he’d listened when you blabbered on about your favorite band.

he heard you approaching and suddenly straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “hey, cherry,” he said breathily. “hi,” you said plainly, still suspicious about this whole meetup. “i just want to say that i’m sorry,” he said. you looked at him unimpressed; after all, he did have quite a few things to apologize for.

“for that night, at the halloween party.” you caught his eyes when your head snapped to your left, a wide, pained look mirrored in your own irises. your silence scared him — he’d expected more yelling. he deserved it. he huffed out a tiny sigh, before speaking again: “i missed you. i missed having you around because cherry, i don’t hate you. i really don’t. our little arguments or whatever? those were the best part of my day. and then they stopped because i fucked up.”

you smiled at that, and he mirrored it: the prettiest smile you’d ever seen. he laughed a little, “but i couldn’t stop thinking about you and how i missed the smell of your cinnamon gum in my car.” your eyes were softer now, glistening with something between a kind forgiveness and an inkling of playfulness. “and then we got thrown into the upside down and didn’t really get to talk about it since, y’know, we could’ve died at any moment? and then i found myself still missing you, because all that wildness wasn’t enough.”

you let the sentence hang in the air before telling him, “i missed you too, harrington.”

you’d barely noticed that you and steve were drifting closer and closer together. you felt little puffs from his plump lips brush over your own pout. “cherry-” he started. “steve,” you pleaded, hands spreading across his chest. he pulled back a little, grabbing your hand gently when he saw hurt flash over your features. “i just want you to know that i’m not looking for anything serious.”

oh. of course.

he sucked in a breath through his teeth as your face hardened into steely ire. “i really loved nancy. i can’t get over her that quickly.” you pulled your hand from his. “but cherry, i can’t stop thinking about you. and that night, god. i just keep thinking about what i would’ve done to you if we hadn’t stopped.”

something heavy settled in the pit of your stomach, the feeling making its way into your core.

“show me,” you said.

he smiled that harrington smile before slotting his lips against yours again — deeper, frenzied, hungry, like he wanted to pull the taste of cherry-almond swirl from your mouth.

(“show me,” you had said. what you really meant was, “i’ll take any part of you that i can get.”)

you felt him harden in his jeans, his cock pressing up against the rigid seams. he hissed as you trailed your hand down his chest, toward his bulge. you looked up at him, eyes glittering and so sinfully innocent. you pressed a kiss over where his arousal was evident and his eyes rolled back in his head. “cherry, baby, honey. i could cum in my pants if you touch me like that one more time.” you smiled at that, delicate hands palming him gently, kissing his neck a pretty sea of pinks and reds, and reaching toward his zipper. “jesus, fuck. cherry,” he rasped as he pulled your head off of him by the back of your pretty locks. your neck was craned back as you looked into his dark hazel eyes. “are you going to be a good girl for me?” he asked with a taunting lilt to his throaty voice. you nodded. he smirked. “words, cherry.” “yes, i’ll be your good girl, steve,” you said, hands already wandering, mouth watering at the thought of his scent, his cock, anything — all over you. he tutted at your ministrations, pulling you off of him once again. “good girls listen to directions,” he said, lips twitching into a smirk.

“bad girls don’t get to cum.”

his hand that was holding your head had changed position, reaching to grasp your chin between his fingers, squishing your cheeks a little.

“do you think you’ve been a good girl, cherry?”

you mumbled out a soft “no” around the restriction of his fingers.

he kissed you after you answered, a soft, plush press of his lips against yours. you tilted your head forward to get more from his mouth, more from him. but he pulled away and you whined. “you’ve been bad, cherry. so now i’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth,” he growled as your thighs clenched. it didn’t go unnoticed, and steve was not-so-secretly proud of himself that he got you flustered. “and if you touch yourself, you will be punished. got it?” he said, cementing his rules in you. at the talk of punishment, steve sobered up for a second.

“what’s our safeword gonna be, princess?”

“starcourt?” you suggested. he smiled.

“perfect. now, if you let me fuck your mouth and use you as my little cocksleeve, maybe you can cum,” he said so sweetly, as if he needed to wrap you around his finger more. you suckled at his neck as you unzipped his jeans, tugging impatiently to get them off. your mouth watered at the thought of his cock; it was probably pretty and red and leaking — all for you. his boxers were next. his cock sprang out of the confines of his boxers, slapping the leaking tip onto his stomach. he exhaled as the cooler air of the car hit his shaft. he held out his palm to you as you admired his length. “spit,” he commanded. you tucked your hair behind your ears and did as he instructed. he took his hand and used your spit to slick up his member. you only just realized just how big it was, biting your lip nervously. he noticed, of course. “what’s wrong, angel?” he said, reaching toward you to rub your lower back gently. “is it gonna fit in my mouth?” you pouted. you wanted it to. like, really wanted it to. he glowed at your innocent question. “it will eventually, baby. maybe not today, but someday soon.” his words seemed to comfort you and you happily took over stroking his shaft with your spit. he threw his head back against the headrest. “fuck, cherry. s’much better than i imagined. so much better.” now it was your turn to glow, thinking about steve fucking his fist in the shower, in his bed, to the thought of you, his childhood enemy. your body felt warm all over and so you took a leap, sponging an experimental peck onto his reddened tip. his hips jolted forward at your touch, causing your eyes to widen and you to pull back. “shit. sorry, honey. just can’t get enough of you,” he said with a gentle stroke to your head. “s’okay, stevie,” you replied sweetly, “wanna make you feel good.” you then bravely dove forward and slotted your mouth over his cock, swirling your tongue around the head and gagging as you took as much of him as you could. his eyes rolled back into his head and he threaded his fingers through your hair. “holy shit, cherry,” he said, “so good. so wet, so warm f’me.” once you figured out how to breathe through your nose, you slowly started bobbing your head up and down. you hollowed out your cheeks, stroking what couldn’t fit in your mouth (yet). on one of your little moves, your teeth grazed the underside of his cock, where a vein bulged. he hissed and you felt more precum spurt from his tip. you ran your tongue over it to soothe the sting your teeth left, worried that you’d made a mistake. but the unmistakable “fuck, just like that, cherry” from above you was enough to reassure you.

you pulled off for a breather, pressing wet, sloppy kisses up and down his length as you recovered. he was just about to ask if you were okay before you took initiative again, taking him further down your throat this time. he gasped and moaned and whimpered and you were in heaven. you were surrounded by him: his musk, his heavy balls gently held in your hands, the hard muscle of his thick, hairy thighs trapping your head. “can i hold your head, angel?” he asked you, ever so gently. you nodded while keeping yourself latched onto his cock, the heavy weight on your tongue oddly comforting. he gently grasped the back of your hair in one hand before thrusting his hips into your mouth, feeding his cock into your warm, wanton mouth. you gagged a little in surprise, but steve held your hair tighter and told you to just relax your throat. at his words, you did (well, you tried with a little whine), and he slipped in further. the spit that had gathered at the corners of your lips started to spill over as you attempted to take him all the way. you hadn’t expected yourself to be getting this wet over him getting off, but here you were, making a mess of your cotton panties as you sputtered choked, eyes glossy from tears. your throbbing pussy was visible through the sheerness of the fabric that your wetness had left. you pressed your thighs together to garner some relief for your poor pulsating cunt, but you remembered that if you were good, you’d get to cum too.

steve was thrusting into your mouth now, enraptured by the warmth of your wet tongue and swollen lips — the same mouth that he dreamed about kissing almost every night. he moaned above you at the sight of your spit-slicked lips, how your eyes were wide and dumb as he fucked your throat. "holy shit, cherry. my perfect little slut, such a good little whore f'me," he panted. you locked eyes with steve as his dick rapidly plunged in and out of your tight throat and at your heated gaze, he was cumming. hot, salty ropes hit the back of your throat. you made a little noise of satisfaction, humming around his shaft as your mouth filled with his seed. steve shot one last load into your mouth, groaning out your name — your real name — and collapsing, almost boneless in his seat. you pulled your mouth off of him, swallowing his load and giving the still-flushed head a soft kiss. he tasted salty and woody. you felt syrupy slick rush out of your fluttering hole at the taste left on your tongue. he ran a hand through his hair, cheeks red, still breathing heavily. “open your mouth,” he said, looking at you and tapping your cheek lightly. you did as he asked and stuck out your tongue for good measure. he gave a pleased hum when he saw your tongue dart out to lick a little bit of his seed that was left on the corner of your mouth. “good girl. you swallowed,” he said. you burned at his praise. "thank you, stevie," you said shyly. he bent down to sprinkle kisses across your face.

your cheeks glowed with arousal as his hand gently gripped the back of your neck, casually keeping you in the palm of his hand. he slanted his mouth over yours, swiping his tongue over your own and hummed when he tasted a remnant of himself in your waiting mouth. you smiled into the kiss, the vibrations tickling your pretty pout. he pulled back, his eyes and lips shining. suddenly he was pushing a hand through his hair and checking himself out in his rearview mirror. you looked at him, mouth pursed in confusion and discomfort at the pressure between your legs. “steve,” you whined. “what’s up, cherry baby?” he said as he gently buckled you in. “don’t i get to cum? i was so good,” you begged, grabbing his bicep between his smaller palms. the polyester of his scoops uniform shifted under your pawing hands as he extended his arm behind your headrest, tendons flexing as he reversed out of the parking lot.

“you were a good girl, but only after you had my cock in your mouth.”

so that was it? he wasn’t going to get you to your release? your mouth fell agape and you detached yourself from the boy, sliding back in your seat and watching hawkins speed by.

suddenly, you were pulling up to your house. your parents had left the foyer light on, keeping the entryway to your house bathed in its soft brilliance. it felt like déjà vu; you, flustered and exiting steve’s car after he’s been an asshole to you — yet again.

you resolved to never see him again as you cursed yourself for thinking he’d changed. but this time, he gently tugged you to him, saying your name quietly, and lifting your chin up to tilt your precious face toward his. he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, one that filled the small space of his car with your deep inhale. you decided that this was your favorite kiss with him that you’d ever had. you looked at him with little hearts in your eyes as he smoothed your wildly messy hair back. he smiled at you, gently purring “don’t you dare touch yourself tonight.” you opened your mouth defiantly at his orders. he shushed you with a quick kiss to the corner of your lips that left you wanting more. “i’ll know if you do,” he said with a wink.

and you knew that you’d definitely be seeing him again.

you did cum that next day. three times to be exact; once on his fingers, once in his mouth, and once on his cock. he’d looked up at you from between your quivering thighs, asking you if he'd made it up to you. you nodded blearily, desperate to get his tongue on your hot core once again.

but whatever summer love, saying “us” moments you had, had very quickly become much deeper. you knew you were in deep shit when you realized you two were playing house after a sleepover at steve’s. you’d walked downstairs to see him swaying gently, nursing a cup of coffee in his boxers. you were wearing one of his old basketball t-shirts: sun-faded and soft and steve. he gave you a lazy smile as he dropped a kiss on your mouth, tasting of the vanilla creamer he swore he kept around “just for you, cherry. that shit’s disgusting.” you wrapped your arms around him; he sighed against your mouth as your fingertips began to rub his lower back with such care, such sweetness. “morning, stevie,” you said through a delicate yawn. ““mm mornin’ cherry,” he said, dipping down to leave a smattering of kisses across your neck and clavicle as you held each other in the sun-soaked kitchen. you silently wished to yourself that the two of you would stay like this, preserved in a memory forever. that you wouldn’t have to return to the world where you “hated” each other. that you could live together in a house of your own, with your own rich coffee scent filling the ground floor, without the upside down. your eyes snapped open at your wandering thoughts. no, you told yourself, it's steve. of course he ate you out on the kitchen floor before bending you over the counter. and of course, in the afterglow as you laid atop the cool tile, you just had to realize that you loved steve harrington.

“always so good f’me,” he rumbled, tracing his blunt nails on your back, raising goosebumps on his path. you looked into his cinnamon eyes, absorbing the ring of mossy green around his irises.

“anything for you, stevie,” you cooed, putting a veil of satin over your voice to mask the churning of your emotions.

“careful, cherry. i might start thinking that you’ve got a crush on me.”

oh, he had no idea.

© ker0senebunny. all rights reserved. all original posts of writing are my own words, with the exceptions of quotations from songs, movies, and other media. my work is NOT to be crossposted to another platform, copied by anyone, or translated without my express and explicit permission.

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[pumpkzsafeplace]

pamper nights with pumpkin! 🌼🧡

now, i think we are all in agreement that the pamper day before any big event is one of the best experiences! you feel as if you’re a completely new person, so here are some things that I do to get that regenerated feeling. the first thing I do is separate my body into basic subcategories to make the process a little bit easier.

hair 🎀

a deep wash: a deep wash can help your hair so much, especially if you’re like me and tend to have depressive episodes a lot and end up neglecting your hygiene. hair masks are my godsent and can transform my hair from a zero to a hero! <3.

blow drying & styling: styling hair can be super fun and can make you feel 100 times better- especially if you’ve just had a super bad week. since i’m out this weekend I’ll be styling my hair and leaving it in overnight, but if you’re just styling it for fun then work it bug! <3

face.🙈

 facemasks: are one of my favourite things on a pamper night! the feeling of a face mask just makes me feel all classy, teheh. i’ve even converted my daddy into enjoying them too, and now we sit and have a little boogie while they’re hardening. tip: if you don’t like pain, go for the washable masks. don’t go for the peel off marks that harden to your skin because ouchie- then can hut.

lips & eye mask: now these I don’t tend to do, but I saw some cheap masks in a store and thought why not give them a try- so I’ll let you know how they are once I use them for a while <3. for lips, I just tend to use lip balm which usually does the job!

spot treatment: I added this for people who spots were causing them serious pain, make sure you don’t forget your spot treatment. for everyone else who has a couple of spots here n there, don’t let people convince you that you’re dirty n disgusting. spots are completely natural to get, and honestly ignore anyone else who says any different<3.

moisturiser: is a complete must! i use the cerave one & it’s fantastic! <3

body 👤

bath/shower: make sure your body is squeaky clean! I like to use sweet scents too as they tend to last a little longer, for example my bodywash is strawberry scented and my shampoo & conditioner is honey scented, even my hair spray smells of coconut.

shaving: is an entire personal preference, don’t let others judge or force you to do something that you don’t want to do!

nails: i like to paint and look cute n adorable, teheh <3.

moisturiser: is a complete must!

^^ i hoped these tips help with your own pamper night! maybe even share your own routines <3

[theformerbastard]

who is/are your comfort character(s)? My love for Jane Lane is pretty well documented.

lighter or matches? When I was a smoker I was obsessed with lighters but matches smell so goddamn good.

do you leave the window open at night? I hate windows so much.

which cryptyd being do you believe in? Bigfoot. I deadass keep my eyes peeled when I drive thru super wooded areas. I think most of the other ones are just people seein' barn owls but Bigfoot is out there, man.

what color are your eyes? Blue

why did you do that? Wanted to

hair-ties or scrunchies? When I had hair I was all about hair-ties

how many water bottles are in your room right now? Got a 2 liter of diet pepsi in the mini fridge

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee? None coffee

would you slaughter the rich? I mean...no? I know what this is actually askin', I just don't like the wording

favorite extracurricular activity? Drinkin'

what kind of day is it? It's chewsdy innit (it's Thursday but that was the first thing that came to mind)

when was the last time you ate? Like...minutes ago

do you love the smell of earth after it rains? I've never understood people that say "smells like rain"

are you a parent? (all answers qualify) nope

can you drive? yep

are you farsighted or nearsighted? near

what hair products do you use? water

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? I can paint my own but I think I'd be shit at paintin' someone elses

do you say soda or pop? Soda. People that say pop are lunatics.

something you’ve kept since childhood? anxiety

what type of person are you? anxious

how do you feel about chilly weather? BIG fan

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing? Playin' roller hockey (where my Kevin Smith fans at?)

perfume/body spray or lotion? On me? Nothin'

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times? Every awkward encouter I've had since I was like 7

about how many hours of sleep did you get? depends

do you wear a mask? *Jim Carrey doin' Ben Stein* we all wear masks...metaphorically speaking

how do you like your shower water? In the shower

is there dishes in your room? Nope

what type of music keeps you grounded? Country

do you have a favorite towel? Used to. It was light purple. Fuck. Such a good fuckin' towel.

the last adventure you’ve been on? *in my best Jeff Bridges voice* ya know...uhhh we're like in it, man.

is there a song you know every word to by heart? Yes

what’s your timezone? Depends

how many times have you changed your url? A few

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years? Brooke

a soap bar that smells good? Irish spring

do you use lip balm? Nope

did you have any snacks today? Bag of cheetos for lunch #healthnut

how do you take your coffee? I don't

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site? Instagram

what’s your take on spicy foods? I'm a bitch

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it? That's dark and I don't like that my brain is actually comin' up with names

can you remember what happened yesterday? I'd have to think really hard

favorite holiday film? While You Were Sleeping. It counts.

what was the last message you sent? "ALLLLLLL?!?!!" When @didee-anne told me she wanted me to answer all of these

when did you first try an alcohol beverage? I'm not good with ages but a "friend" gave me a shot of wild turkey and a shot of bacardi 151 in high school. I'd tried my dads beer before that but the shots feel more...significant.

can you skip rocks? It's been years but yeah

can i tag you in random stuff? Why not

[cobrakaisb]

🃏with johnny orlando + fantilli sister, and maybe celebrating her birthday/christmas or soemthing with her family, and her brothers getting to see how happy they are

using she/her pronouns cause i want to name fantilli sis eventually.

"okay open my gift next! i know you're going to love it," lauren shouts, shoving the pink gift bag into her hands. she looks at the bag, and then her best friend before shaking her head. "this better not be over the top," she says, pulling away the tissue paper. lauren scoffs, "oh please. just wait until you see what johnny got you." she pauses for a moment, looking across the table at her boyfriend, who has a knowing smile on his face.

"just open the gift! stop dilly-dallying!" luca complains, coming to stand behind lauren's chair as the two look over eagerly. she finally takes the gift out of the bag, and it's actually not a bad at all. "this lip balm, i swear it's so good. my lips have never felt better," lauren explains, pointing to the tube in the box of self-care items. it feels like she's teasing her; making a joke about her relationship with johnny, but the genuine smile on her face says otherwise. "thanks lauren, i love it!" you exclaim, pulling her in for a hug. before she can pull away, she whispers, "and it's johnny's favorite flavor." she glares at lauren, who just giggles.

"okay, my turn," johnny announces, getting up from his end of the table to come and stand by her. he's carrying a gift box with him, wrapped perfectly in the funny wrapping paper she pointed out on their last trip to the store. she looks at the box, then at johnny, and gently shakes her head before peeling away the paper.

inside the box is a dress, the one she'd saw when they went to the mall a couple weeks ago. she hadn't bought it, claiming that it was too expensive and there was no where for her to wear it. it would just end up collecting dust in her closet. "john," she starts, and her tone informs him that a lecture is coming. he throws his hands up in surrender. "listen, it was on sale. besides you really wanted, and you looked amazing in it. how could i not get it?" he explains, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. she blushes at his words, but turns in her chair to face him. her arms wrap around his neck as she engulfs him in a hug. his hands rest on her back, holding her close. "i love you," she whispers. "i love you too," he answers, leaving a kiss on her forehead. "now there's still one more piece you need to open," he says, gesturing towards the box.

luca and adam watch as she pulls out a necklace. it's gold, just like all her other jewelery. the pendant and small, a pair of butterflies, and the two brothers know that's their thing. they watch as she moves her hair and he clips the necklace on, leaving a kiss on the back of her neck. luca looks at adam, and they just nod because maybe she's dating their best friend, but it's so obvious that she's happy. they both are.

[strezzlecki]

femslash febuary day 4: unrequited love

lesbian prongsfoot • 840 words • @hpsaffics

It’s champagne and sugar, being settled next to James. It’s the pleasant fizz on the tip of her tongue as she sips, it’s the sparkling pink settling on her bottom lip like dew drops. It’s the refreshing sweetness of an overripe strawberry busting under her canines.

It’s just enough to tolerate, the sensation buzzes under her skin like a livewire. Barely enough to be background noise, to be something she’ll become accustomed to, a feeling she might even be lucky enough to forget.

And then James brushes the bare skin of her thigh and it’s static, it’s an open flame. It’s her skin peeled back and exposed the elements, it’s the softly humming cables of her body catching fire, scorching their way to her heart.

Sirius drains the last drops of champagne from her glass and meets James’ eyes. They’re wide behind the foggy glasses, sitting crooked on her nose. Wide with her unspoken request, shameless pleading bordering on begging. There’s not much Sirius would refuse James-in fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever refused James-but this was pushing it.

“No! No, no, no!” Sirius has her fingers over her lips before James can even speak. “Not this! Find some other hopeless girl! There’s plenty in this room who’ll jump on the chance.”

And James is setting aside her own glass on the arm of the couch, and placing her hands on Sirius’ knees, and the crackling blaze in her heart is a bonfire. She’s coughing up ash and James’ nose is brushing hers. The air is sickly with their shared candied breath and Sirius has no defenses left. She’s sure she had none to begin with.

“Please?” James’ words slide down her throat like honey, soothing her burn like balm. Of course she couldn’t refuse her this, just she’d been helpless to refuse her before.

And James is the conqueror, the victor with her spoils. Settling back into the worm velvet of the loveseat and it may as well be a throne. Tapping the side of her glass with her fingernails, the piercing ringing commanding the attention of the room, she’s so satisfied on anyone else it would be smug. But not on James, never to Sirius.

Until she raises her glass over her head, silencing the hum of conversation and announces, “Speech! Speech! The bride wants to hear a speech!”

There are so many things Sirius could say about James, the bride, words that would fill libraries, but when she meets James’ eyes again the balm that was soothing her becomes suffocating. She’s burnt to cinders.

Everyone would expect a nice speech from her. A room of their friends, James’ family, a few hopeful hangers on, all expecting a nice speech from her. Two days before the wedding the responsibility was practically shackled to her by God. Or James, who was close enough.

Maid of honour, best friend of the bride, sister of the groom. There was so much she could say.

And then James squeezes her wrist and she can’t hear her own voice over the roaring flames licking up her ankles, her inner thighs, her stomach.

It’s James’ nails dragging over her skin, pressing down her racing pulse. It’s the way her lips part softly with a gasp when she looks at her, sticky with lip gloss they’d applied together. It’s the pull of her dress over her chest, fabric stretched thin over the gentle thudding of her heart, so steady and grounding compared to Sirius’.

It’s the way she knows those hands as well as her own, and longs for them to touch her in ways she’s only touched herself. It’s the way she knows how James would taste on her tongue, the way her skin would split under her teeth.

It’s the way James’ body is pressed to hers, shoulder to thigh, and it will never be close enough. It’s the way Sirius brushes a lock of her unruly hair over her shoulder and her fingers twitch for more, to bury herself up to her knuckles in the roots. It’s the way she could climb inside James’ open mouth and take root inside her stomach.

But Sirius can’t say this, and maybe she doesn’t have to. The way James’ triumphant eyes rake over her shorched body, she’s sure she knows.

“Well,” and the crashing waves in her gut settle to a gentle rocking as Sirius focuses on the mole on James’ collarbone. “You all know how much I love James…”

“I love you!” And James has the tip of her sword at the base of Sirius’ exposed neck. “We’re like sisters, you and me.”

It’s sour, the sip that Sirius takes. The champagne refuses to pass the rising bile in her throat, it rots behind her teeth. It’s warm and flat, choking her.

It’s words forcing their way out of her, out her the gaping wound in her vulnerable throat. It’s vinegar in the hot air between them, the lie the spits through the blood James draws.

“Like sisters.” She agrees.

And she’s still burning.

[influenzalake]

Batfam and Superfam + as Chapsticks

Bruce: Basic Medicated Blistex - everybody knows this one and has most likely used it at some point. mf burns your lips though, not for the faint of lip 

Selina: Vaseline Rosy Lip Therapy - one of the popular faves, this one is somehow always getting lost?         ((who else loves the pop and click)) 

Clark: Classic Burt's Bees - a sweet but strong lip balm, seen everywhere but also not for everyone

Lois: Classic Chapstick Cherry, Spearmint, and Strawberry Lip Balm - multifaceted, a balm for your best moments, iconic

Dick: Carmex Classic Lip Balm - the balm you swipe 30 layers on but this shit strong. prepare your lips for peeling and your nose for the fumes. do NOT underestimate.

Wally: Eos Vanilla Bean Lip Balm - so f*ing smooth but always gone when you need it, youll pat your pockets for a while until you realize you either left it, finished it, or lost it 

Starfire: C.O. Bigelow My Favorite Night Balm - this balm will change your life. You WILL be left with an inch thick coat of this stuff on your lips and you WILL never use anything else 

Jason: Vaseline Cocoa Butter Lip Therapy Tub - a little bit different form of lip care, but those who give it a chance will have the healthiest lips , you gotta let it set though! 

Roy: Palmers Coconut Oil Formula - overlooked until deeper into your chapstick journey unless you started here, now you open the cap just for the smell 

Tim: Chapstick Coffee Collection - no comment just laughs, leaning into that Tim Coffee Addict stereotype 

Conner: Eos Spheres (any and all flavors) - was SUPER (*) popular, huge surge, then faded into the background go queen live a normal life 

Damian: Carmex Cherry Medicated Lip Balm - if you open and apply this mf in a public space be ready for some looks. if you use this on the regular and dont flinch you either have broken glass for lips or you eat broken glass for breakfast 

Jon: Nivea Cherry Shine Lip Balm - super cute design super cute flavor but stronger than you think, you apply it in 3 swipes religiously no more no less 

Diana: Chapstick Classic Spearmint - apply at your own risk. seen as an "older person's" chapstick but really the person who uses this chapstick has seen their fair share and chews ice for fun

Harley: Lip Smacker Best Flavor Forever - the variety pack you find at your local Claire's but think about fondly when your brain gives you junior high memories at 3 am

((this is a FANFICTION, do not take as professional / genuine lip care advice. 

I AM NOT A DOCTOR.)) 

see my wattpad for photos

[espresswhore]

my ranking of lip balms ive tried:

vaseline lip care coca butter (a bit pricey. but so so smooth)

nivea fruity lip balm (cheap and excellent. smooth too)

himalaya lip balm (not the best for my lips cuz idk it makes the skin easy to peel. and i dont like how it rests on my lips because of the weird sliky smooth texture.)

mamaearth ubtan tinted lip balm (gurl dont even get me started)

[vileviale]

I have spent the last hour removing all the seeds from this strawberry and feel I have just been on some strange artistic journey

Spending an hour with this little guy has gotten me to appreciate it in so many more ways than I can imagine. Just look at his colors! There’s that brilliant red of course, then yellow:

White:

And green crispy leaves that are dried and nearly dead (they make a nice rustling sound):

On his end there is a scraggly brown-and-yellow scab that is strikingly similar to a human’s:

As I poked and peeled each seed, the strawberry grew warm in my hand. It really did feel like skin and flesh. You can see which parts of the strawberry’s skin were taut and allowed me to pick the seeds off easily:

And the soft and mushier parts that made things more difficult and left messy wounds after:

With these parts the seed would often bury itself deep inside the strawberry if i attempted to dig it out with my fingernail. A sharp and tiny needle allowed me to make more precise cuts to the line of sinew? that kept the seed tethered to the flesh and bring it to the surface once again.

I think I’m going to eat the strawberry now. I was at first hesitant to destroy all my work, but it smells so sweet I must try it.

My brain cannot comprehend this flavor and this texture together. The strawberry has lost its crunch. It somehow tastes less sweet? Or is it missing some flavor? The best way I can describe it would be like a peach, but without the thick and fuzzy skin.

You can see each white sinew that used to be connected to a seed:

Most strawberries have a hole inside of them. I don’t think this one did. I can’t remember because I was too lost in thought and the texture was making me real confused.

My lips taste sweet and feel sticky. They’re a slightly deeper shade of red. Nature’s lip balm I guess.

[branches-in-a-flood]

hiii 29, 39 and 49 🌻

Madalena hiiiiiiiiiii 💛

29 how do you like your shower water?

Straight from Mount Doom. Boil me alive.

39 do you use lip balm?

I do! Otherwise my lips get dry and I peel the skin off them and it's gross and painful.

49 can you skip rocks?

It has to be the *perfect* rock, and I think my personal best is 4 skips. Haven't tried in years though!

[captainderyn]

[Fic] To the Brink

Summary: Five finally reaches a breaking point in his Imperial Intelligence career that jeopardizes not only himself, but the well being of Roslynd has well.

Warnings: Implied torture, implied past addiction

Notes: This was meant to be a prompt fill...it is instead a lot more than that. I ramble more in the tags lol. Hope y'all enjoy the first fic with Five and his new wifey...of course it'd be angsty.

This is set ~2-3 years prior to the start of the Imperial Agent story line.

--

"Cipher Five are you listening to me?"

Five tilted his head back against the tree he hid behind, the thorny bushes concealing him from view scratching and catching against the thick material of his uniform.

"I'm always listening to you, Fixer." He murmured, blinking up at the sun that dappled between the thick foliage above him. The green blurred in front of his eyes and he squeezed them closed before peeling them back open.

Shaking his head didn't work either and he scrubbed a hand across his face, keeping himself in the darkness as he focused in on the voice coming in through his ear piece.

Roslynd's voice encompassed him, the familiar cadence a balm to his fried nerves. He yawned, keeping a hand over his eyes to focus solely on her voice instead of the blaring light of his visor's HUD.

"...haven't received new intel since I briefed you yesterday. They've got their movements and plans locked down tighter than the Dark Council's donation history."

Her words blended together in a series of syllables and sounds, relaxing none the less. The soft clip of her accent wrapped around him and he didn't realize the darkness had changed around him until the scrape of bark against the back of his neck and her voice sharpened,

"Five? Cipher Five!"

Pulling his eyes back open, he let his hand drop back down. Rocks may as well have been dragging down his eye lids, "Mmm, I'm still here Fourteen, don't worry."

He could practically feel her displeasure through the comm channel. If they were in the same room, she'd be staring him down with that look on her face, where her brows drew low over her eyes and her lips pressed together until she figured out exactly how to professional rip him a new one. Her hands would be on her hips in the way she always fell into when irritated.

A pang went through him. What he'd give to not be sitting out here in this oppressive humidity of some backwater planet and instead back in Kaas City. 

"As your Fixer, I think you should call off this stakeout and return to base. It's already been several hours with no changes in information. This is not sustainable for the mission."

As far as the record keeping software that monitored and scanned their secured comm channel to report anything off Imperial Intelligence cyber specialists it was just simple concern in Fourteen's voice.

He caught the edge in her voice though.

The HUD in his visor lit up, tracking a series of alerts. He scanned through the text, sifting through what information was actually important as the text disappeared faster than he could read all of it.

"Our targets have made their late arrival. The mission can still be completed."

"Cipher, I think its best to withdraw from this mission." He heard Fourteen clicking through screens through the comm, her fingers flying across the keys, "Your latest biometics--"

He palmed an adrenal stim from the pack at his belt, injecting it in one fluid motion. The location smarted from others he'd previously injected over the long hours of this stakeout, the rush of energy it gave like static through his veins. That was the last one he had in his pack. In yet another practiced motion, he pulled a fortitude stim as well, that one like a rush of cold, clarifying water through his mind.

"I only desist when I receive orders from Keeper." He reminded her.

An ache went through his chest, he wasn't sure if it was from the stims or from the stilted breath Fourteen loosed over the comm. It was the last bit of the woman beneath the agent he got before that cool, level tone returned.

"Understood. I expect you to report in no later than 1600 Kaasi Time. Standard recovery procedures will commence within the next day if that deadline is missed." 

He didn't miss the slight waver in her voice on recovery. Gathering up his sniper rifle, Five hovered his hand over his ear piece, "Heard loud and clear, Fixer. Going dark."

The silence when he clicked off his calm set his nerves back on edge. Even when she was silently pulling up information to brief him on, Fourteen's company through the static was a tether to him.

He crept to the outlook he'd scouted earlier, pressing himself down among the swaying grass and pushes. A few thorny leaves scraped the back of his neck and he grimaced.

The last adrenal stim pushed his luck too far. He could feel his heart hammering erratically against the ground as he flattened himself against the earth, bracing his sniper rifle so he could zero in on the approaching targets. His hands were shaking and he gripped the body of his rifle tighter, peering through the scope.

Each blink felt too heavy, threatening to pull him under.

His target came into view, the speeder crawling along.

Taking a deep breath, Five steadied himself and aimed.

Fired a single shot.

And missed.

---

Roslynd flipped her wrist up, staring at the screen of her watch for the third time in the last three minutes.

15:55

15:56

15:58

She'd gone two minutes without looking, a new record. Instead of checking her watch again as she let the screen go dark, she checked her datapad. Nothing.

Checked her earpiece for any messages she might've missed. Not a single notification.

All of her other briefings and meetings were over for the day. The agents were packing up their things to leave for the night, closing down the building except for those working the overnight shift.

Roslynd herself was supposed to leave at 17:00, after Five reported in and confirmed the status of the mission. The hour she'd given herself after was to write up a quick report, to be finalized and sent to Keeper tomorrow morning.

She toyed with the ring on her finger, the stone catching the blue light of the sleeping data terminals.

Keeper passed by her office and she darted out the door, falling into step alongside him.

"Cipher Five still hasn't reported in." She tried to keep her voice steady, to not sound too harried. Inject just enough of her frustration to make it seem like she was just pissed off she may have to stay past her scheduled departure.

Keeper glanced askance at her, the wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes deepening as he checked his chrono, "He still has time to report in."

"The mission was planned to take less than an hour, the other three were to provide a buffer for him to return back to base. You know how punctual Cipher Five is and I set the deadline for today to account for that, this is unusual behavior.” 

The older agent studied his chrono once again, before fixing Roslynd with a long look. His eyes dipped down to where she was still fiddling with her ring with enough force that her skin was turning red. She dropped her hands, gripping them in a tense parade rest behind her instead. 

“Fixer Fourteen, I think you should retire for the night, the Fixers for tonight’s shift will monitor comm traffic for Cipher Five’s report. You’ve put a lot of overtime into this mission. Besides, you have someone waiting at home for you.” 

Keeper always had a habit of caring for his agents too much, giving them more leeway than many of the Sith breathing down Intelligence’s neck wanted. Treated them too much like people, with lives outside their work instead of means to an end. 

She blinked against the burning in her eyes, trying to keep her voice from sounding too robotic as she said, “Will do, Keeper, thank you.” 

Knowing damn well she’d be returning to an empty apartment, with only the fluffy feline Agent to greet her. That she'd be lucky to get more than scattered minutes of sleep tonight.

She didn't miss the knowing look Keeper sent her way before bidding her good evening and leaving her standing in the hallway. She simply chose to ignore it.

---

Three days.

The longest thirty-six hours of her life. Hours that wouldn't pass faster no matter how much she paced, how much she tried to work away.

Nights spent awake, trying to quiet Agent's own pacing and yowling as he refused to settle into Roslynd's lap and insisted on searching for Five.

It was twenty-four hours after Roslynd left headquarters that recovery procedures were enacted and a team was sent to the backwater planet Five was meant to be on.

Roslynd had watched their progress from her office, tuned into the feed from their comms and watching their progress on the map spread on her second monitor.

They found him trussed up in a backroom of their targets' hideout, so bloodied, swollen, and bruised that their identity scanners threw errors. One of the junior ciphers on the recovery team cut Roslynd's access to their HUD visual feed.

Roslynd cut her own access to their audio feed soon after, when their questions to Five returned near-unintelligible, garbled answers. What had they done in twenty-four hours?

Rocking back in her chair, she scrubbed her hands over her eyes, pressing so hard she saw stars.

"Fixer...?" A tentative voice paired with a knock on her door. She nearly leapt out of her skin, thankful that she'd already closed out the tabs she'd been keeping on the recovery team, "Keeper wants to see you in his office, something to do with your current mission."

Her stomach dropped, but she pushed her chair back anyway and walked on shaking legs to meet Keeper, putting any indication that she knew more than she was supposed to far, far down inside her.

"Fourteen, you look awful." Was the first greeting she got as she closed the door behind her and pulled the blinds as he motioned for her to do.

She fell into a parade rest, pressing her lips together, "I've been concerned about the mission, sir."

"Then you'll be relieved to know that the mission was a success. Cipher Five eliminated his assigned targets."

It took everything in her for her only reaction to be a tilt of her head and a quirk of her brow, "Oh? So the mission is a success."

Keeper scrubbed a hand across his jaw, frowning at something coming through on his datapad. The blue light cast deep shadows over his features, "With collateral damage, yes. As you've probably guessed, Five was compromised in the field."

She knew, she knew and it still ripped through her heart with enough force that her knees quaked and her head went light, "Tell it to me straight, sir. What condition is my agent in."

My agent. My assigned field partner. How would his failure reflect on her. Nothing more.

Still, Keeper motioned for her to sit, steepling his hands when she did. Everything about this was so far beyond acceptable protocol. As Fixer she was not entitled to this information, all she needed to know was that the mission was a success.

She was focused too hard on keeping her breathing steady and her eyes dry to care what Keeper did or did not know. At least the blinds were drawn, at least no other eyes were watching. She clenched her hands, clasped in her lap, so tightly that her knuckles popped. 

“Preliminary data suggests he hit his targets then experienced some manner of incident. The remaining adversaries took advantage of that lapse to take him into custody and attempt to extract information from him.” 

Information that he wouldn’t have given, especially not after only twenty-four hours, though the mere thought sent a lurch through Roslynd’s stomach. She stared hard at the screens behind Keeper until she felt like she could breathe again.  

Keeper’s voice softened, no, quieter, so that she had to lean forward to hear, “I’m placing him on medical leave upon his return. Clearly something is going on, and I’d rather my senior Cipher be out of office temporarily than lose him all together.” 

“Thank you.” She got out from behind  the lump forming in her throat and nodded along as Keeper picked his voice back up, returning to that clinical tone. 

“As Fixer you are not permitted to debrief him while the medical staff perform their evaluation of him. However, as you’re the one most acquainted with working with him, I would like you to see to it that Cipher Five makes it to a taxi home.” 

Roslynd glanced up at Keeper, at the raised eyebrows wondering if she’d deny it. She didn’t have the strength to, “I’ll make sure he makes it home, sir.” 

“Good,” Keeper looked older now, worn down and weary. How difficult it must be to watch his agent get picked off like flies on the daily and so rarely be able to do anything, “Dismissed, Fourteen. The shuttle is set to arrive by evening.” 

She tried to remind herself as she busied herself with her remaining work and placing an order for supplies to be delivered to their front door by the evening, that things could be worse. Plenty of agents didn’t return from these kinds of incidents after a paltry two days of being MIA, plenty didn’t return it all. 

Instead of soothing her, it only gaped the pit in her stomach further until she found herself paralyzed in her desk chair, spiraling down all the what ifs. She was stuck thinking circles around the folder tucked in her desk drawer at home, where Five had methodically laid out all relevant information, desires, and plans for her if he were to ever not come home, when another agent came to notify her of Keeper’s order to retrieve Five from the medbay. 

It wasn’t another younger agent, but another cipher. One of the few remaining from her and Five’s graduating class from the Academy. The one agent Five would probably consider a close friend outside of the office. 

Cipher Seven gave her a grim smile, “You look like shit, Ros.” 

She aimed a withering look at him as she gathered her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. She tried and failed to keep her hands from shaking. Her muscles would ache tomorrow from all her trembling, “Keeper said the same thing.” 

Seven snorted a laugh and it eased some of her tension. It couldn’t be horrible news if he could laugh, “Do you know how he is?” 

The cipher slung an arm around her shoulder as they walked, waving off the few nosy agents trailing them. A breach of decorum, most certainly, but headquarters was well past closed, and they’d been here long enough to bend a few rules, “You know Val, pissed off as ever that something went wrong in the first place.” 

She pursed her lips at the bold usage of Five’s name, even a nickname. He hated using it anywhere near Intelligence. No matter that his full legal name was written in his files. It was his little bit of paranoia that he clutched closely, the same paranoia that kept him from wearing his wedding band. 

She supposed the last few days was proof as to why exactly he did that. 

“I’m serious, Rhys.” She snapped, but breathed out a sharp breath from her noise and softened her voice, “Keeper didn’t tell me much.” 

She knew Rhys had a habit of diffusing with humor, but there was no place in her shot nerves for jokes or light comments. He was lucky she could speak at all. Thoughts of that stupid folder still threatened to steal her concentration. 

Another reasonable, yet agonizing, part of Five’s need to have everything meticulously in place. 

“Shit, sorry, I know.” Rhys winced, “As far as I’ve been told he’s better than when they found him. Nothing that isn’t just superficial. The team that found him says he’s slept off whatever cocktail the bastards used to try and get him talking.” 

Another piece of her relaxed, and she blinked towards the ceiling, “Good. He seemed…off when I was on the comms with him before it happened. He wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to back off the mission.” 

Close friends as they were, she couldn’t bring herself to share the sinking feeling that she knew exactly why this mission had gone wrong. Something in her stopped the words that Five was hurtling down a dangerous path, getting closer and closer to some edge she couldn’t see because of the demands placed on him. 

Rhys already knew that Five had barely been home, sent on mission after mission by Keeper on behest of his higher-ups. He could infer enough from that. 

“He’s going to have a fit when he learns that Keeper put him on forced leave.” was all Rhys offered. The ‘it’s necessary’ went unspoken, even if it meant Rhys was going to be picking up the slack. 

Roslynd kept a remarkable leash on her composure as they slipped into the medbay. She was even more impressed with how steady she kept her voice as she leveled a look at Five and simply said, “Keeper’s directed me to make sure you find yourself a taxi home.” 

If she looked like shit, then Five looked like death. Though he’d been given a pair of loose black pants and long sleeved shirt instead of his dirt and blood stained uniform, that didn’t hide his face. His eyes flitted up to her from beneath deep bruising that extended over his nose all the way down to his jaw. 

The hands that circled the cup, filled with whatever concoction the med droid was harassing him to drink, were no better. His knuckles were scratched and cut up to the point she wondered how he held the cup at all. 

Superficial, Rhys had said. Superficial still hit her like a punch to the gut. It took everything in her to nod at the medical droid and ask, “What is my agent’s prognosis?” 

Rhys slipped beside her to help Five up. She didn’t miss the way Five winced or the way he moved like his entire body hurt. Nor did she miss the heated, quiet conversation between the two friends as Rhys stabbed a bendy straw into Five’s styrofoam cup and snapped at him to drink up. 

It was a sweet bit of normalcy as the medical droid pulled up its diagnostics, “Cipher Five is recommended limited activity until contacted by his supervisors with further instruction. It is also recommended that Cipher Five cease usage of adrenaline based stims.” 

The droid padded off to the next curtained off area, its monotonous voice picking up again, but Roslynd’s eyes were fixed on Five. He had his eyes fixed on the ground, focused on putting each foot in front of the other and snapping at Rhys to keep his hands off when his friend attempted to help him. 

At the weight of Roslynd’s stare he glanced up, expression going unreadable at whatever he found there. 

Rhys walked with them until they were out on the taxi pad. He had his uniform jacket pulled up over his head against the incessant drizzle, stopping just shy of the roof’s overhang. 

“Get home safe.” he told them both before looking at Roslynd, “And don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, Keeper already doesn’t expect you.” 

The old man was watching out for them once again. Roslynd didn’t have the energy in her to give anything other than a nod. That was all she’d been able to muster consistently: nods. 

Even if her head was beginning to spin too much to even manage that. The lack of sleep and her inability to keep much down was catching up with her. 

Five glanced over her shoulder before sliding close enough that their arms brushed. Then his fingers hooked through hers, his thumb brushing over her ring. The gentle touch was enough to bring tears to Roslynd’s eyes, that slid down her cheeks and mixed with the rain as the taxi finally pulled up. 

He kept their hands interlocked, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, all the way home. Until they slipped through the door and with it slipped away Five and Fourteen. 

She pointed to the couch, a silent command, and he toed off his shoes to obey as she shrugged off her rain soaked jacket. Agent careened from the bedroom, chirping and brrup-ing with his feathery tail straight up in the air. 

In the short time it took her to hang up her jacket, Agent already claimed Five’s lap, purring so loud that it seemed to shake the entire couch. Roslynd tucked herself on Five’s other side, falling against him as his arm looped around her waist and pulled her close. 

He grunted in pain as she connected with him, but tightened his hold when she tried to scoot away. She relented, resting her head on his shoulder with as much care as she could. She didn’t even know what beneath his shirt looked like. If it was anything like what they’d done to his face…well. He’d be sore for a while. 

“I thought I’d lost you, Val.” she finally broke their silence. 

Five leaned his head against hers, his hand trailing up and down her side as she added, “What happened?” 

“I don’t know.”

 She hadn’t realized the rough gravel to his voice until now. Did that mean that when they…had he been…? She squeezed her eyes closed against the unbidden images of the pain they’d inflicted on him, on the shouts and screams that must’ve been torn from him to shred his voice like that. His arm tightened around her. 

He cleared his throat, though it did nothing to help, “I remember taking out our key targets, then nothing until I woke up in their safe house. I don’t know if I passed out, or if they hit me with a neural detonator, or a concussive shot…” 

Roslynd reached out to brush her hand over Agent’s furry head. The cat pushed his head into her touch, paws frantically kneading Five’s stomach. 

“Stims again?” She kept her voice neutral, even as she felt Five slump next to her, as if he’d been waiting with baited breath for her to bring it up. 

“I didn’t realize how bad it was getting again.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and she followed the motion, watching him card his fingers through strands that were going gray at the temples. 

She hadn’t realized how often he’d been gone, how often Keeper had been sending him out on missions until she stopped to wonder how she hadn’t noticed yet. She was so used to working with him on the job, to speaking with him daily but…she hadn’t seen him for more than a few days at a time in three or more months now she realized. And most of those days had been spent sleeping, resting with the stress their job put on them. 

Her stomach sank and she turned her face against his shoulder, steadying herself in his warmth. 

“Keeper is granting you leave.” She admitted into his shoulder, not amending that ‘granting’ was a pretty word for ‘forcing’. 

“I know. Rhys told me.” Five sighed, “I’d also talked to Keeper before this mission about transferring to a position here for a little while.” 

She hummed in interest, trying to remember if he’d already mentioned this before. 

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but Keeper wants me to take a stint instructing at the Academy. Wants me to evaluate the cadets for potential cipher designations.” Five interlocked their hands again, “I can’t keep going like I am and I don’t want to spend more time away from home than not.” 

He’d been working like this for over a decade of his career in some capacity or another. The Cipher designation was a risky one and each time he left the odds stacked further and further against him. He and Rhys were already an anomaly. Most of the Ciphers they’d graduated with were nothing but names on the memorial wall now. 

Roslynd allowed herself to sink into Five, take in the fact that he was here, that he might be staying here, and at Agent, purring so hard still she was surprised he still had breath. 

Her little family. Their little family. 

Together, okay. Not broken, not lost. 

“I think that would be perfect.” she murmured, realizing in the silence after that Five had fallen back asleep, his breaths soft against her hair.

[chickenparm]

... OK fine that last one wasn't a real prompt

Pagan Min pretending to be completely oblivious to the EFFECT he has on Reader while teasing her/them mercilessly?

OH BOY OH MAN i've never written pagan before so i don't know how much justice i'm about to do, but god willing i'll do my best for you. also this is like 1k words cause i don't think i could squeeze all i want in just 500 oops

---

Paul himself had been very frank with you. More candid than he’d ever been, as few as those times speaking with one another had been. 

“He’s very particular. You understand? Do exactly as he says, as he wants, and you’ll be fine.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but an uneasiness settles in your bones as the minutes pass, and you’re left alone in the kitchens, waiting for Pagan Min to make his appearance and potential demands. 

You’re under absolutely no illusions that Paul would protect you if something were to go wrong. While you have a particular set of skills that he enjoys and values, they’re not something that can’t be found in any number of other people. You just happened to be convenient and within arm’s reach. 

Listening carefully for any sound of footsteps, you let yourself relax enough to inch toward the only source of warmth in the room - the lit fire. Holding your hands close enough that the heat borders just on the edge of crisping your edges, you take a moment to gather yourself back into some semblance of composure. 

“It’s just Pagan Min.” Turning your palms toward yourself to warm the backs of your fingers, you exercise a futile attempt at self comforting. “He’s just a man. A stylish man, but just a man.”

“Style is subjective; all in the eyes of the beholder.”

Your blood freezes all over again, the chilled air is no match for the drop in temperature that comes with his arrival.

“If we’re going to be trading compliments, I’m a fan of the… shabby-chic aesthetic that you’re maintaining here.” Footsteps that are no longer silent round the long table in the center of the room. Effortlessly, he rounds a corner that you often stumble over in your hastiness. From the corner of your eye, you spot pink.

“Pagan Min. Stylish man, ruthless tyrant, and apparently now some form of gorgon, considering you refuse to look at me.”

He doesn’t get to finish tsking at you before you snap your head in his direction and take in a sight you’ve only ever gotten to witness on static-filled television screens. There’s boundless amusement and not much else, and while you’ve never been good at reading people, even you can tell that the lack of further emotion is deliberate. A mask.

Dark eyes flit through the room, taking in the prep table, the shelving, the stove and oven that you’re leaning dangerously close to. And for a moment, the smallest bolt of shame shoots through you before you realize that you’ve never had control over your workspace. Nor have you had any pride.

With a gloved hand plucking at his lower lip absently, Pagan seems to take mental notes of anything and everything. From the peeling plaster to the dented wok, nothing escapes his notice. It barely registers to you as you fall into a trance thanks to the pink of his lip. Even in the low light, it shines. You’re almost certain he’s wearing some type of balm to combat the chilly winds.

It snaps back into place as he pulls his hand away, and you frantically look down at his shoes in favor of being caught by his knowing eyes. Though, you understand well enough that he had to know what you were thinking. The way your shoulders hunch speak a thousand words.

Pagan’s shoes are shined, unsullied, and more than likely new. Suddenly, they’re the most interesting in the world for the span of time it takes him to snap his fingers and regain your attention all over again. As if he’d ever lost it.

“Skittish little thing, aren’t you?”

That gloved hand glides along the well-worn tabletop before it plants firmly and supports his leaning weight. One ankle crosses over the other and all at once he’s smooth lines that are accentuated by a cocked hip and the light of the fire dancing across impossibly high cheekbones. You’re enraptured, and by the way his eyes wander over your shoulder, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

You’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Abandoning your personal space, Pagan rounds the table again in favor of moving across the room to where he’d been staring over your shoulder. It’s obvious where he’s headed, considering not much is over there beyond a few covered bowls kept close to the open window to keep them fresh for dinner later this evening. 

Methodically, he checks each bowl one by one, examining what’s there before covering them exactly how’d you had them before his meddling, then moving to the next. One in particular catches his eye as he lifts the fabric covering it. 

Turned away, you can’t see his expression, but a pleased sound leaves him - low, gravelly, straight to somewhere you desperately didn’t want to encourage at a time like this. You’ve heard fear can enhance these sorts of things, but this is too much. Too inappropriate.

But even his excitement is making your very bones vibrate at a harmonic resonance, like you want to share in it for just a moment. With all your willpower, you refuse yourself the honor. It’s not your place, and while Paul had said to only do as Pagan instructed, you had a feeling that there was something unspoken there about not wanting to sprawl across this table-top and make every attempt at seduction.

Any shoring of your perverse feelings is swept away when he sweeps his index finger through the contents of the bowl and brings it to his lips. Again he hums, through his nose but it comes from deep in his chest. His satisfaction is undeniable, and you’re frantically cataloging the two back-to-back sounds you’ve been gifted, however undeliberate they might have been. 

His jaw works as his tongue cleans the digit thoroughly of the filling you’d be using that evening. There’s a wet sound as he pulls it from his lips, then turns to you with a knife-like smile, almost sly in nature. “This rangoon will be something to die for.”

[foreficfandom]

Get Their Makeup Look! Ft. The Boys of Tears Of Themis

Artem Wing (左然 - Zuǒ Rán)

Virtue's Frizz Block Humidity Proof Smoothing Spray

Laura Mercier's Tinted Moisturizer Oil Free Natural Skin Perfector SPF 20 in "2W1 Natural (light with warm undertones)"

Farmacy's Honey Butter Beeswax Lip Balm

HERMÈS' Terre d'Hermès Eau Givrée Eau de Parfum

Vyn Richter (莫弈 - Mò Yì)

BondiBoost's Hair Thickening Therapy Styling Spray

La Mer's The Powder

Armani Beauty's Acqua di Gio Eau de Parfum

Givenchy's Rose Perfecto Lip Balm 24H Hydration in "002 Vital Glow (transparent coral)"

Marius Von Hagen (陸景和 - Lù Jǐnghé)

Urban Decay's 24/7 Glide-On Waterproof Eyeliner Pencil in "Zero (black)"

Dior's Dreamskin Fresh & Perfect Cushion Broad Spectrum SPF 50 in "020 Light Beige (light: neutral undertone)

Ralph Lauren's Ralph's Club Parfum

NARS' Afterglow Lip Balm in "Torrid (sheer warm coral)"

Luke Pearce (夏彦 - Xià Yàn)

Lancôme's Teint Idole Ultra Wear All Over Full Coverage Concealer in "320 Bisque Warm (medium skin, warm undertone)"

Drunk Elephant's Lippe Balm

LANEIGE's Water Bank Blue Hyaluronic Cream Moisturizer

Caudalie's Vinofresh Natural Aluminum-Free Deodorant

Why these choices? Well, let me tell you!

Like many professional men in Asia, Artem wears a touch of makeup par his typical work outfit, especially if you're the face of the company. Which Artem definitely is, he appears on media every time he finishes a case. A touch of powder for the flash cameras, a dab of hairspray to smooth out his hair. During the boomer era, it was considered fruity to even wear cologne to work, but times are different now. He almost never branches out from his favorites. He doesn't even shop in the boutiques anymore, he just replaces his stock using online shipping.

Virtue's Frizz Smoothing Spray is odorless, and helpfully lightweight for its medium-thick hair focused formula. Artem has a modestly thick mop on his head, and without just a bit of product, it'll lie annoyingly flat and frizzy, especially if its humid. He sprays it at the roots to give it lift.

He gets Laura Mercier's Tinted Moisturizer in shade "2W1 Natural", which is for light skintones with warm undertones. It's a light-to-medium formula, perfect for covering up eyebags and smoothing out the face, but light enough to avoid looking like a patch of rubber. Oil-free means it's not gonna add extra shine to his Asian complexion, and he knows that SPF protection is vital for healthy skin. Most of his workday is spent in front of blue-screen monitors, so liquid products are best for avoiding a weird unnatural glare reflecting off your face.

Farmacy's Lip Balm is a forever staple in his pocket. He drinks so much coffee and not water, his lips are forever cracked and patchy. Without a good lip balm, he'd be peeling all over his chin and that's not proper for Stellis' youngest senior attorney. One swipe of this can last hours. It's flavorless and has only the mildest scent, so there's not a sticky smell right under his nose all day.

HERMÈS' Terre d'Hermès Eau Givrée is on the subtle side of perfumes. It's piney and citrusy, reminicent of a sophisticated summer breeze. Most people describe it as an 'older gentleman's perfume', 'cause its decidedly not sugary or spicy or fun. But it's professional, and suits Artem's reserved personality.

Vyn didn't start wearing makeup daily until he moved to Stellis, but he had prior experience with wearing cosmetics for the public eye. When he saw that a) professional men of Asia like to wear makeup on the reg, and b) he looks good with the proper products, he made that effort to build up a boudoir of luxury beauty products. Unlike Artem, Vyn knows he looks especially beautiful and he likes to primp it juuuust a tad. Shopping for the proper products can be a struggle for white guy Vyn, because the more luxurious you go, the less inclusive they'll be. He's got a cool-toned complexion, fine hair, and dry skin, which is the opposite of Asia's target audience.

Vyn couldn't find proper designer hair products for his hair type, so he went down the line a bit to get BondiBoost's Hair Thickening Styling Spray, which is a more modestly priced brand and that secretly hurts Vyn's bougie soul. But he can't deny it works wonders on his very fine, very delicate hair. It's a texturing spray that clings to the roots to provide lift and volume. He also likes how its unscented, because he thinks most scented hair products smell like ass.

Speaking of bougie, La Mer's The Powder comes in a teeny pot and costs more than a week's worth of groceries. They market it as appropriate for everyone, but it's obvious that it's formulated best for people like Vyn; it has a radient finish to help combat dull dryness, it's not completely translucent and has the slightest pale cast, and smooths out the fine lines that drier skin gets. But its hefty price comes with quality for sure, and it does its job amazingly well.

Armani Beauty's Acqua di Gio isn't the only perfume he owns, but it's one of his favorites for work. It's long lasting and appropriately strong, but doesn't give off any one particular ingredient. It's best described as just "fresh", or "aquatic". Working with mentally ill patients means that he can't have any aggravating sensory distractions, so he applies just enough to make sure it's not gonna reach across the distance between a psychologist's chair and a patient's bed.

Givenchy's Rose Perfecto in "002 Vital Glow (transparent coral)" provides both color and hydration. It also contains the tingly plumping agent that swells your lips just a tad, which thin-lip Vyn appreciates. Not as tingly as many lip plumping products, it feels more like a subtle minty freshness than a dentist's numbing gel. He, unlike Artem, enjoys scented lip products and likes the floral smell it gives off, it reminds him of his garden.

Unlike the other three, Marius loves makeup for its artistry, and is not afraid to wear the colorful, or wild, or niche. Which is easier said than done because his PR team gets on his ass if he dares go to class in green eyeshadow or a chrome metallic lipstick. He might like to say that they can't tell him what to wear, but Marius is pious to his family, and doesn't dare destroy his own image in a way that might affect them, too.

He gets the Urban Decay's 24/7 Waterproof Eyeliner Pencil in the more natural "Zero (Black)" than their "Perversion (Matte Blackest Black)", so he can pull off a more convincing 'thick lashline' look rather than full on goth. With some mascara and eyebrow pomade, Marius has popularized a famous 'casual bedroom eyes' moment. This pencil will stay on all day, whether its through the college grind or sweating it in the business conference room, so much it'll takes several swipes of a makeup remover to get it all off.

Dior's Dreamskin Fresh & Perfect Cushion is an infamously expensive liquid foundation, available in four shades. One of which fits Marius' spring/fall complexion. So this is his daily go-to, it's lightweight and evens out his skintone just enough, while providing lots of SPF to upkeep Marius' delicate richboy look for years to come. If he's got blemishes typical of any 20 y/o, this product also meshes well with any additional concealer without separating or curdling. Honestly, wearing something so luxurious is more for the PR than the foundation itself.

Ralph Lauren's Ralph's Club Parfum comes in a sexy opaque matte glass bottle reminicent of a whiskey flask. And its scent matches its ridiculous 'manly' marketing; it's woody and spicy with cardamom, patchouli, and the deep warmth of vetiver wood. It doesn't match Marius' general appearance and personality, that's for sure, but it matches his natural BO. 'Cause young Marius is surprisingly potent smelling, shall we say, and a deeper, spicier perfume goes best with him.

NARS' Afterglow Lip Balm caught Marius' eye just by its name, same with their 'Orgasm' blush palettes. It only gives the slightest bit of color, and it wears off pretty quickly, but that's exactly what Marius needs because colored lips tend to look too childlike on his baby face. So he keeps this in his pocket throughout the day to make sure his lips aren't dull and dry, but not rose pink like a porcelain doll, either.

Luke didn't start wearing most of his current products until MC came back into his life, and one day he looked into the mirror and noticed all those blemishes and acne scars and freaked out just a tiny bit. After googling "beginner makeup for men" for an afternoon, he got his hands on some skincare staples, and a cosmetic or two. Most are only for date nights, he doesn't wear concealer when undercover in the field, or investigating throughout the city. And if he's being honest, he doesn't particularly like having makeup on his face, it feels weird and kinda gross to him.

Lancôme's Full Coverage Concealer is full coverage, and by god will it cover up any bruises, dark shadows, healing cuts, scars, etc. Heck, even interviewing people while investigating goes over better if he's not walking around with a black eye, so this concealer was a great discovery for Luke. It's not just for his face, he applies it anywhere clothing can't cover, like hand-shaped bruises around his neck, or a purpling cut around his forearm.

Luke didn't start balming his lips until he started caring about looking more pretty for MC, so he picked up the boutique brand Drunk Elephant's Lippe Balm which contains all natural ingredients, and has no smell or color. He feels better knowing that the goop he's spreading all over his face doesn't contain any cheap, harsh chemicals, 'cause he may have a biology degree, but he has no idea how [insert chemical here] might affect topical skin. It helps that he doesn't have particularly dry lips, so the natural ingredients of this balm fit him just fine.

LANEIGE's Water Bank Blue Moisturizer is an Asia-orienting brand that focuses on oily/combination skin. This product is very lightweight, great for Luke's sweaty, active lifestyle so there's no clogged pores, and he enjoys its light scent, which is that 'vague luxury smell' which makes him feel like he's injecting a paycheck into his face. Growing up, he didn't even bother washing his face with soap most of the time, so this moisturizer has a lot of catching up to do.

Caudalie's Vinofresh Natural Aluminum-Free Deodorant is by far the only deodorant he's tried (or owns), but he still owns no cologne, so he had to get something better than supermarket Dove for Men if he wants to impress. This stick is a clear gel that won't leave those ugly white stains on his black shirts, and it moisturizes the skin, too, which is great for regulating sweat and oil. It's another all-natural product, which means it's not at superbly powerful as the synthetic ones, but it's healthier for the delicate underarm ecosystem.