#best meetcute EVER

[indigoreed1]

Idc nothing will ever be funnier than Blue thinking Gansey was calling her a prostitute.

[thestarofcottonland]

do you guys remember that post that had a newspaper article picture in it of two guys in christmas sweaters by their tree and im pretty sure the headline was ‘i married my hacker’ and it went on to detail how one guy got hacked but they fell in love conversing through a word document. it is very hard to find apparently but i know it was on here T_T

[strangerstilinski]

𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙮

summary: Steve gives his best friend some admittedly questionable dating advice — but it all works out in the end.

fem!reader ~ just a silly and awkward little meetcute. alcohol consumption. lots of pining. far too many mentions of robin's freckles. and i threw in a silly moment with steve because, well, this is me we're talking about and how could i not? fluff [1.9k]

a/n: baby's first robin fic — wow! as always, please leave some love in the form of comments and feedback if you enjoy xx

Steve has practically sworn on his life that the pick-up line will work on you. On the condition, of course, that Robin delivers it with the right amount of cool nonchalance, with just enough flirty undertone to let you know her intentions.

So, naturally, Robin is repeating the phrase over and over again in her head, because the last thing she wants to do is screw up this monumental opportunity her best friend has practically laid out in front of her. Though, now that she's making her way toward you, she's belatedly realizing that Steve's confidence is almost entirely based on the fact that the line had worked on him when a girl used it at a party. Which was... Decidedly not the most reliable focus group, but she's determined to push past her fear regardless. Plus, Steve has technically shared more words with you than Robin ever has — even if that does equate to a single conversation to Robin's zilch.

Was it against her better judgment to willingly accept dating advice from Steve Harrington? Maybe, but she manages to swallow past her anxiety long enough to push the words out anyway.

"Is this seat taken?"

The words pull you out of where you've been lost in your own head. The music coming from the boombox at the corner of the patio, paired with the raucous laughter from the group splashing around in the pool, had lulled you into a trance-like state.

You were third-wheeling beside Nancy and Jonathan, because you work with them and they're really the only people that you really know at this party. So you might kind of be clinging to them a bit.

You've let your mind wander in an effort to remain unbothered by their flirty laughter, especially with the way that light intoxication and the chaos in the Harrington backyard has slowly brought the volume of their conversation from hushed to outright loud beside you.

Before you knew it, you've spent a good fifteen minutes sipping steadily on your drink and watching the ants march in and out of a gaping crack in the cement in a mindless daze. So, when you hear the question, your head snaps up so hard it nearly gives you whiplash as you focus on the girl standing in front of you.

You've seen her before, but that does nothing to lessen the blow of just how pretty she is. So pretty. Her cheeks are still a little pink from the setting sun, freckles marking her skin everywhere your eyes land as your gaze rakes over her. A wonderfully short pair of denim cutoffs cover the tops of her thighs, and you have a hard time forcing your gaze to continue to travel upward. She's picking at the label on one of the bottles of beer in her hands, both of them dripping with ice water from the cooler she must've snatched them from. Her eyes are wide, a panicked little grimace pulling at her lips before she seems to shake herself off and school her expression into something more relaxed.

"Hey, Robin." Nancy acknowledges sweetly, Jonathan nodding in greeting beside her.

The pretty girl, Robin, smiles in response, albeit tightly, before her attention moves determinedly back to you. She blinks once, twice. Shifts on the balls of her feet and repositions her beers, the glass clinking as they knock together between cold fingers. Her gaze flicks just once to something or someone over your shoulder and she seems to nod to herself once before an adorably nervous little smile pulls at her lips.

You've only ever seen fleeting glimpses of her from afar as she re-shelves movie rentals at Family Video. You'd tried to catch her at the check out counter one time, but Steve Harrington had crushed your hopes the moment he had nudged his co-worker away with a not-so-hushed whisper about letting him test the waters that had your shoulders slumping dejectedly.

When he'd spotted the empty plastic case in your hands, he'd squared his shoulders, a poor attempt at nonchalence, "Gremlins, huh? Uh.. Gun to your head! Who's hotter — Phoebe Cates or Zach Gilligan?"

You'd laughed before correcting him, "Galligan. Gilligan is the guy on the deserted island."

He'd only waved you off, taking the crumpled dollar bills you pulled from your pocket with an oddly pointed comment about how pretty Phoebe Cates was though, right? You blame the way his eyes had flashed with something like excitement when you'd agreed as the reason for your next comment-

"But all time celebrity crush? Gotta be Claudia Wells." You'd paused after the admission before continuing somewhat nervously, "Y'know, from uh, Back To The Future?"

"Oh! The guy's hot mom?"

"Oh, no. His, um, Marty's girlfriend. I just think she's a little softer than Cates. Pretty but still approachable, y'know? Girl Next Door. That kinda thing."

He hadn't looked judgmental, but the moment you'd left the store and the adrenaline brought on by the absurd encounter had receded, you'd been mortified with yourself for being so goddamn transparent. You'd almost gone back a week later, hoping to see the cute mystery girl working the counter again — alone, preferably — but in the end you'd chickened out. Had a friend return your rental for you and you hadn't been back since.. Because she really was nerve-wrackingly pretty, and you were a coward.

But right now she's looking at you expectantly. Waiting.

"Hi?" You manage, words soft and unsure.

The playing field doesn't quite feel even with her standing above you. It's a bit unfair, you think as you blink up at her a little dumbly — It's hard to focus when her attention is on you like this. The sky is a backdrop of pink and orange behind her, stunning little shadows collecting beneath the bridge of her nose and the ridge of her brow. Perfect teeth dig in at the corner of her lower lip with her smile. There's a pale stripe of skin at the base of her middle finger, untouched by the sun and only visible because the chunky ring she's wearing has gone slightly askew against one of the beer bottles in her hand.

"Hi," Robin returns, just the single syllable sounding giddy on her tongue. Blue eyes drop to where you sit on the stone bench beside Nancy, gaze lingering on the bare skin of your thighs beneath your shorts before they travel back up to meet your own again. "Is this seat taken?" She repeats, a little more hopeful this time.

"Oh." It only comes out a little dejected. You look toward Nancy and Jonathan in your peripherals, as if willing another space on the stone bench to suddenly appear — When one doesn't, you sigh. The nearly empty plastic cup in your hands crunches when you clutch it a little tighter to your chest. Your jaw tightens, heel scuffing against cement as you kick your foot out in preparation to rise and relinquish your seat. "No, I mean.. Yeah, you can have it." You nudge Nancy with your arm, chin to your shoulder as you speak a little softer, "I'm gonna go grab a drink and, um.. Mingle."

The look on Nancy's face immediately gives away the fact that she knows there's no way in hell that you plan to do anything of the sort. You are not a person who mingles, Nancy and Jonathan both know this. However, before Nancy can say anything, Robin is speaking again.

"No!" She nearly yells, voice cracking. Her eyes have gone a little wide. She takes a small step closer, one of her knees knocking against your own and effectively impeding your ability to stand.

"..No?" You echo in confusion.

"Um," Robin swallows harshly, curling in on herself just a little. Her face scrunches with embarrassment, her teeth scraping along her lip. She blows out a harsh breath before thrusting one of the beers in her hands toward you, "Here! I, uh, I brought this over for you."

You bend to place your plastic cup beneath the bench in a flash, entirely too eager when you reach out to take the offering. You get a little distracted by the way her fingers glisten with condensation, and your stomach outright flips when they brush your own in the transfer.

"Oh. Thank you," You feel a bit like a schoolgirl with the airy cadence that slips into your voice. Her touch lingers for a moment, blue eyes seemingly glued to the place where your index finger covers her pinky around the neck of the bottle. "You can totally still have my seat," You add quickly, "I don't mind! Like I said-"

"Actually-" Robin interrupts, "Well, actually, I thought- If you want, of course- I thought we could maybe, kind of, in a way, share the seat?" It comes out as a question and only serves to make you more confused. "I thought – again, if you want – I thought I could, possibly, sit.. on your lap. Just, because.. You know, that way you could avoid forfeiting your seat and maybe, you and I, we could get to know each other a little better? But we totally don't have to! That's okay too! Absolutely okay, in fact. You can just enjoy that beer and I'll go-"

She's already shuffling a small step back as her words bleed together in her anxious rambling. Your free hand catches her wrist to pull her back before she can get too far, your legs parting to allow her to slip between them. Her knees brush the insides of your thighs and your heart thumps entirely too obnoxiously beneath your ribs in response.

"I don't mind," You say quickly. Your fingers shake with the adrenaline that washes over you suddenly and you give a gentle tug to urge her to sit. "You can sit. You can absolutely sit."

She sits.

She sits and pockets of her denim shorts press into the top of your thigh, her knees knocking together as she tries to settle into a comfortable position. You surprise even yourself with the hand that lands on the small of her back to keep her balanced, and when she presses into your touch minutely you choose to leave it there. Your palm is without a doubt sweating where it settles against the cotton of her shirt, but you don't dare move it now that it's found a place there.

If you thought it was hard to breathe when she was standing in front of you, it's a whole new ballgame to have her face this close to your own. You're still looking up at her, neck craned back just a little to look at the cluster of freckles above her cupid's bow, the dark eyeliner smudged artfully beneath her lashes.

You watch her gaze drag slow over your own face — like you're something to be admired and, God.

You can practically hear your own blood pumping in your ears, and you will your excited nerves to settle, sipping from the chilled beverage in your hand just for something to distract you, even just for a moment. The glass catches the top of Robin's bare thigh when you lower it again and she gasps at the cold, the gasp turning over into a breathless laugh while you curse and stutter out an apology.

You miss the way her gaze flicks over your shoulder to meet Steve's watchful eye where he sends her a whole flurry of excited hand movements ending with an emphatic thumbs up. But, you do notice the way her toe nudges into your shin lightly, the shy smile pulling at her lips as she leans into you a little more comfortably, arm pressing into your shoulder.

"Hi," She starts slowly, "I'm Robin."

lovely dividers by @strangergraphics

[quetzalpapalotl]

For my like 10 followers that aren't into Transformers, here is a list of things that are totally canon for the IDW Transformers comics (2005-2018):

Two guys had a meetcute in the morgue of an euthanasia clinic because one guy wanted to kill himself and the other was looking for his dissappeared husband among the corpses. They get married. They seemingly don't talk about what they're going to do once they find the second guy's husband that they're still looking for. The suicidal guy has had other 3 husbands but he erased his memory of that because he's bad at dealing with grief.

The suicidal guy's ex (not one of his dead husbands) is the Autobot second-in-command and had a pet mad scientists that made him war crime machines. They ended up invented the concept of having a child, but then the Autobot SIC had the scientist thrown into the torment nexus because he felt bad about doing war crimes and wahted to stop. He didn't actually stop doing war crimes.

Optimus Prime annexes Earth.

A guy invents time travel to save his unrequited crush's life

God is a real person but he's not actually a deity and is currently a therapist whose license was revoked for getting unprofessionally close to his patients. Everyone who knew his license was revoked died so he just kept on practicing.

Optimus Prime pretends to be havig divinely-inspired visions to get out of situations.

Tumblr exists in-universe.

There's a guy named Centurion who was made to think he's Bumblebee because when his ship crashed a scientist brainwashed them into thinking they were classic Transformers characters to see what happens. Thousands of years later he gets involved in human wars and remembers he's not Bumblebee. He develops a self hatred so great he lets a G.I. Joe villian use him for his schemes. Centurion then has his consciousness fused with a human named Mike Power and lives perpetually with the biggest identity crisis of history.

Another guy also had his memories messed with and has lived multiple human lives (he may be Gilgamesh) when he's actually a Transformer secret agent. He's overcoming his own identity crisis through the power of sheer vanity. He also owns the in-universe equivalent of Facebook and Apple.

On at least 3 occasions Transformers used another Transformer's corpse as a vehicle. And on 1 occasion they used a corpse as a replacement limb (the guys alternate mode was a leg)

The Transformers on planet Cybertron at some point forgot that gender is a thing. There are lost colonies from before this so gender is still a thing in those.

One of those cybertronian colonies sends a delegate after millennia of absence and her bodyguard hates the place so much she causes a terrorist attack just as an excuse to go home, people die. The delegate was like "that was bad but we can move past this" and forgives her.

The Decepticons rewired their own soldiers into bombs and dropped them on people.

The Decepticons also rewired Autobots into anti-personnel live mines that would explode when they good too stressed and needed to be handled by people that could defuse them while keeping them calm.

Transformers are allergic to magic.

A guy has a fanzine dedicated to the Autobot Black-ops where he writes fanfiction. It's so popular multiple people are on a mailing list to have it downloaded directly to their brains when a new issue comes out.

A Decepticon's plan to deal with population decline is to make a bunch of organic babies, have them grow up and make more babies and then transplant their souls to Transformers bodies. He got as far as growing one (1) baby. Tbh, you could erase this whole plot and the story wouldn't suffer much.

Starscream who is a backstabbing liar who cares only for himself becomes president. He routinely neglects and endangers the population for his own ends. He was the best leader Cybertron ever had at the time.

[sunnyseungup]

Hyunjin fic recs 2

stray kids | Hwang Hyunjin

masterlist | part 1

[ updated 240726 ]

5:15 am { f } @dreamyyeosang

cliche meetcutes { f } 0,9k @chvrrycola

04 sharing haring a bed series { f2l, s } @skzdarlings

Ice { mafia au, strangers2l; a, s, f } 4,5k @healinghyunjin

Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

kinktober day five { f2l; s } 2,5k @gimmeurtmi

uni student hyunjin but make it art

9:02 A.M { f } @forlix

Read between the lines { f } 0,5k @inkelea

Making out in a car { s } @astraystayyh

are you bored yet? { insecure y/n; a, f } @ebbaskz

“but i can’t help from asking ‘are you bored yet?’ ”

I’ll make those insecurities disappear { a, f, s } @lotus-dly

Taste { s } @moonjxsung

Sunday’s Paradigm { f2l, college; f } 2,6k @sunboki

He was a cold person. Spiteful and brash to all people too close, scared to let his walls down. Except, to him, you’re a spectacle. A classmate he realizes he can’t exactly find reason to dislike while he sketched you from his stool in the art room.

The deal. @hyunedew

the one where you accidentally summon the king of hell in your pursuit to pass your class.

Pendulum { f, a, s } 1,2k @1-800-shedevil

You visit Hyunjin on the night of his big art exhibit intent on closing this chapter of your life but he's not willing to let go that easily.

Say yes to me { f } @astraystayyh

after your seven minutes in heaven, hyunjin wants to plan out how he'll finally confess to you. except you come knocking on the door of his rented cabin unannounced. at 10:53 pm. the perfect time for love, he comes to learn.

Bound to You { Cerberus, Goddess, Greek Mythology; f, s } 4,3k @winter-dayz

“What are we?” { f } @jinhyun

Drunken with a sense of love { drunken confessions, fake dating } 7,1k @hanibalistic

you and hyunjin got drunk at different times, and you two took care of each other similarly. 

Thinking about how attentive hyunjin would be when you’re sick { f } @seungminhour

Christmas Eve with Hwang Hyunjin { f } @agi-ppangx

Eight days of Christmas carols - day 4 { f } @rachalixie

Pussy agenda with Hyunjin { s } @fluffylino

Sigma kappa zeta’s olympic level beer pong team { + Innie x reader; s } 7,2k @/skzms

it's the last frat party before winter break and you, hyunjin and jeongin have a title to defend. who knows where it might lead (we do, it leads to the three of you smoking weed and fucking in jeongin's room)

9mitm { s } @straykeedz

Babysitter.com { single dad Hyune; s, f } @mnwrld

hyunjin's whole life changed when his daughter was born--it was the single best day of his life. but parenting was harder than he thought it would be, especially when he also needed to work to be able to provide for the light of his life. maybe a little help wouldn't hurt? where else could he look but the notorious 'babysitter.com' ?

my love, mine all mine [ f ] 2,3k @/rachalixie

hyunjin setting up the perfect valentine's day for you

verisimilitude [bsf2l; s ] @/skzdarlings

You are a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon. Your best friend is an eccentric pretty boy. You accidentally send him an explicit video of yourself. What's the worst that can happen?

The snow falls, we fall apart. [ roommates, f2l; hurt/comfort ] 13k @/astraystayyh

when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

Something I Needed More [ f2l; f ] 3,2k @skzonthebrain

wherever you are [ f2l; f, a, s ] 12,9k @hyunverse

Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.

ace [ volleyball player hyune, fake e2l; f ] 15,2k @/forlix

volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

the storm. [ s ] 2,7k @/tasteracha

Series

devil by the window { DemonxAngel; s } 3k @berryjoong

you’re an angel, hyunjin’s a demon, and you’re both after the same soul. you hate each other, but you just can’t stay away from him.

part two { f, a ,s } 6,4k

the strange man of monterrey manor ( series ) { vampire au; f, s, a }  @quokkacore

chapter one: a marriage most foul

chapter two: voices that wail in the night

chapter three: a solution to the issue at hand (m) [final]

Make Love, Not Porn { s } @charmercharm3r

You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see.

Play Time 3,8k

Heat Signature 5,9k

Puppeteer 4,3k

Hi, My Name Is 7,7k

Sunday 6,7k

Texts

Boyfriend texts @like-a-diamondinthesky

Boyfriend texts @gyuworm

Note: please let me know if the links are not working ! I’ll try to fix them as soon as possible ^^

[wonwayne]

GUYS what if i did an enha oneshot series with each one inspired by a track off of pinkpantheress’ heaven knows album??? they wouldn't be necessarily connected but i have ideas in mind:

true romance : jungwon idol!won with non-idol!reader but also childhood bffs to strangers(ish?) to lovers “been a fan of you since 2004” reader falls first, he falls harder typa deal

the aisle : niki MESSY relationship i tell you MESSY he runs very hot and cold breakup in the middle but reader tries to get him back a lot of spite and pining :))

nice to meet you : jake a very dramatic meetcute i think “tell them how we met, because you tell it best” AHH just gonna ignore central cee's feature bc i do not want to write unfaithful jake 👍

ophelia : sunoo the saddest thing i will probably ever write ngl maybe it will invoke shakespeare, maybe it won't definitely a star-crossed lovers trope though

feel complete : jay another devastating one i'm so sorry 😭 i think it'll have to be alcoholic!jay,, the way this song is such a banger and the lyrics are just–

blue : sunghoon a bit reminiscent of niki's love hate relationship, slightly obsessive reader pair that with narcissist!sunghoon... ooh that's tough

capable of love : heeseung they're in the engagement stage but hee is scared of commitment :(( at a certain point he straight up ghosts you so many tears but it's fated love. impossible to let go i fear overall these will be very angsty (if you couldn't already tell lmao) but lmk if you'd want to read these! i'd gladly indulge in all seven.

[wordsinhaled]

oops i saw that video of ferdie watching ads and my brain was all “wake up new dreamling meetcute just dropped” and really ran away with me and became a ridiculous sappy improbable thing

AU where dream is the model in an ad and hob is traveling for an academic conference. he’s watching tv in his hotel room late at night and sees this ad with dream in it. it’s some silly and forgettable TV commercial but the man in it may possibly be the most gorgeous person hob’s ever seen in his life? anyway hob can’t sleep, partially because he’s nervous for his panel the next day, partially because he’s stuck on Gorgeous Guy From the Ad and feels incredibly silly for it. it was a two minute appearance. matthew really is right that hob needs to get out more if he’s crushing on people in random TV commercials now

so he goes down to the lobby bar to get his mind off of things. it’s late and the bar is deserted - the bartender is about to knock off for the night in maybe half an hour. hob orders a club soda and is reviewing his papers when someone slides onto the bar stool next to his. hob is about to be slightly irritated that someone is In His Bubble at this late hour, when he looks up and sees it’s The Guy. the guy!!!

it’s the fucking guy from the ad he just watched, and somehow he looks even more beautiful in person, and hob is like, oh, okay, the stress of academia has finally gotten to me and i’ve lost it because there is just no fucking way

it’s such a ludicrous coincidence that hob sets down his pen and just starts laughing. the way you laugh at things that aren’t actually amusing, because it’s the middle of the night, and everything’s just a little fuzzy around the edges?

“is something funny?” says mr. walking wet dream from the TV, in a voice like slow-melted chocolate, and also with the kind of curiosity in it that makes hob realize he’s being totally socially inappropriate

“no—no, i’m so sorry. it’s just—god, am i dreaming? because you’re here, but i swear i just saw you—upstairs. well. not like—i mean. in an ad on the TV?” (completely not helping himself in the smoothness department)

the breathtaking stranger’s lips quirk up in a sardonic smile. “ah, yes. that.”

“that?”

“unfortunately, you are not dreaming. i did indeed feature in an advertisement several years ago. as my sibling dearly loves to remind me on every possible occasion, lest i let myself forget for even a moment.”

and hob expects the man to leave in a huff, or something. he goes back to his papers, dream orders himself a gin & tonic, but they’re watching one another in each other’s periphery until finally dream says, “i must admit why i sat beside you this evening. i noticed you were reading marlowe…”

to hob’s great surprise this stranger soon doesn’t feel like someone he’s just met. hob talks about his teaching post and the conference and the paper he’s presenting and the panel he’s on tomorrow, and how (“shhh, you mustn’t tell anyone”) his co-panelist tomorrow is an absolute pill so he’s dreading it. he finds himself sharing more easily than he expected in a way that you only can in the kind of liminal space that is an empty swanky hotel bar at midnight. they’re angled toward one another on their barstools so that maybe their shoes knock together or their ankles brush occasionally in a way they both pretend is accidental, and hob does his level best to be calm and collected about it

he learns his stranger’s story over several gin & tonics. dream’s ‘real’ name is morpheus. he wants to be a published author, studied creative writing. his father is the head of a major media/entertainment/publishing conglomerate and dream used to work for the company. when dream said he wanted to pursue something totally different (essentially… be a starving artist) his father saw it as a betrayal, and trapped him into continuing to work for the family for years on the promise of getting him the connections to publish his first novel or help him get funding to stage his first play… provided he could “actually” finish the manuscript

in the meantime his father had dream doing bit parts in forgettable commercials and made for tv theatre productions, partially as humiliation for daring to want to leave. (i really want him to be in a hair commercial where he broods about in silky black robes…) eventually dream lawyered up and severed ties. his father retaliated by setting up a kidnapping attempt on his own son that someone else conveniently took the fall for, and so on…

anyway - to make a long and tragic story short, now morpheus goes by dream, moved cities, has started his life over mostly estranged from the family, and he’s actually working on his novel - but he’s in town for a friend’s funeral and is staying at the hotel too

at the end of this story hob goes, “bloody hell. i’m sorry, my friend,” and it’s a bit over-familiar, isn’t it, for someone you’ve just met at a bar, even if you’ve just shared half your secrets. so hob is all, oh god oh god ohgodohgod, i’ve scared him off now—

then dream is all, “your friend. is that all you’d like me to be, robert gadling?” and he’s Looking at hob like he’s caught hob out in a lie. and hob’s breath is just… gone… gone away somewhere… and he has to admit that he may still barely know this man but there’s nothing he wants more than to know him in every way possible

and maybe they both go up to hob’s hotel room, and when hob kisses dream for the first time, cradling dream’s face in his hands, it’s more tender and intimate than it has any right to be and hob is just. flabbergasted because fuck. he just met this man and it feels like he could be content just to kiss him for hours and hours and hours. ok? like this is some accidental soulmates energy. their first time is slow and thorough after falling asleep curled together on top of hob’s covers and waking up in the blue hours before dawn

ok basically just my favorite thing is dreamling finding one another in very unlikely circumstances and having a Connection asdjfjf

[kiddbegins]

I Can’t Lose You. - Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek

Requested: yes

Word count: 810

Warnings: arguing but it ends happy so 🤸🏻✨

A/n: I couldn’t get the linking a gif to work but this is @winchesterszvonecek ‘s gif from this post.. actually i got it (thank you laptop) but bff this is still for you

Masterlist

“I can’t lose you.”

You and Otis didn’t fight a lot. In fact it was super rare and usually not even a fight. Just an argument . The difference being the arguments were always silly. What flavor skittle was the best (the green one.), your favorite Star Wars movie (Revenge of the Sith), which kind of soda was superior (Dr. Pepper.)

But this was a fight. Like actual yelling, crying and all. Your obliviousness was your achilles heel. You weren’t used to, well, people most of the time. Growing up you didn’t have many friends, you didn’t go out places most of college.

The only examples of the social life had been since you started seeing Brian a couple years ago and he basically swallowed you into his friend group who were truthfully always together.

Not that you complained because you loved them but still, everything was new to you. How were you supposed to know the guy that came up to you at the bar was flirting? “Bri, you know I don’t pick up on stuff like that!”

He wanted to believe you, but his own insecurities in himself more than anything picked at his rational, shoving it out the door. “You picked up on it when I was the one doing the flirting. When I was the one passing you drinks ‘on the house’ which you knew meant I was buying for you.”

“Yeah because I liked you! I wanted you to be flirting with me. I didn’t pick up on it, I just gave you my own googly eyes back.” You ran a hand down your face. “Look I’m not arguing with you over this, Brian. Either you believe me or you don’t. Pick.”

Your eyes darted over his, the anger and honestly, the fear, fighting against one another inside of you. You weren’t a liar. And you wanted to yell that at him. Force him to believe you. Because you hated this. All of this. But the other part of you was worried if you pushed him too much he just wouldn’t forgive you at all.

Otis wasn’t like that but truthfully this was also your first real fight. How did you actually know what he was like in them if you never got into one before? “Please believe me.” You couldn’t bear it in yourself to keep up the shield of anger. Not when the one thing you hated most was not being believed.

Instead, your previous emotion was fully replaced with fear. Undoubtful fear. “Please believe me because I can not lose you.” By now there were tears actively sliding down your face. You loved him. God did you love him. Every little molecule that made him had you swooning, always.

He had your attention the second you ran into one another at a cafe, literally. Your coffee down the front of his work shirt and everything. One of the most stereotypical meetcutes you could ever have but with how sweet he was when it happened? How could you not agree to hang out more?

Were you meant to turn him down? “You swear you didn’t notice?” Otis asked, his voice softer than before, the anger seeping out when he saw how your face twisted with sadness. You were his soft spot just as much as he was yours.

“I swear, Bri. I love you. Nobody else could even get me to pull my eyes away from you.” Hesitantly you stepped closer to him, grabbing his hands in yours. “You’re the love of my life, okay? If that guy was flirting, I didn’t realize because I didn’t care enough to. I care about you. Only ever you.”

Your words admittedly brought tears to the man’s eyes, nobody had ever been as sweet and caring as you were with him. Most of the time he was the second, even third choice. Half of him expected you to drop your attention from him to one of the ‘more attractive’ first responders the first night he brought you to Molly’s.

But you didn’t. Your body was glued to the edge of the bar, talking to him for the entire night. You were his before he even knew it. “Alright,” He let out a sigh, pulling you into a big bear hug. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to some guy.”

“You won’t lose me. Ever. I’m here for the long run.” You took a pause, “And I’m hoping that you’ll figure that out soon enough and get moving.” Otis pulled away with a look of confusion on his face.

With a soft laugh you lifted your left hand, wiggling the fingers on it. “By the end of the year I’m really hoping this finger won’t be bare anymore.” You teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek, just happy that that crisis was easily averted.

JOIN BRIAN'S TAGLIST HERE!

[doodlevich]

DTIYS: Mickey + Puppy 🐶

For dear Harvey’s challenge!❤️ @mikhailoisbaby

I got inspired by Mickey and the dog and wondered how Ian would fit in to the whole things… and then a wrote a little au meetcute fic about it for good measure :-)

🔽🔽🔽

“The fuck is wrong with that thing?”

Ian glances over his shoulder and in doing so almost trips over a tree root sticking out of the ground.

Standing in front of him is a gorgeous, dark haired man, sporting blue eyes that basically pierce Ian’s fucking soul. He’s wearing various shades of black and the look of disgust curling up his sharp features tells Ian that the guy wouldn’t like it much if he was referred to as ‘slightly petite’.

But he is, though. Just Ian’s type.

“What’s w-wrong with what?” Ian sputters, at a loss for words as he takes it all in. Then he remembers he happens to be holding a shivering chihuahua wrapped in a pink puffer doggie vest and pink booties to match.

Goddamnit Tami.

“Oh? The chihuahua?” Ian chuckles once the pieces all click. “She belongs to my sister-in-law. I’m dog-sitting while she and my brother visit her family.”

The dark haired stranger snorts. “If you can call that a dog.” He reaches down to pat his own animal on the head, and Ian realizes he was so caught up with the man than he didn’t even notice the pit-bull by his side. “Looks like it’s one wrong move away from being lunch-meat.”

Ian shrugs. It’s a fair point.

“Yeaaaah, Penelope it’s one for picking fights.” The Chihuahua wriggles in the crook of his arm and yips at the mention of her name.

The man snorts. “Penelope? Jesus Christ, man.”

“Fitting right?” Ian smiles at the pitbull’s blissed our expression as the mystery man scratches below the chin. “What’s his name then?” He nods towards the larger dog. “Monster-mutt? Grave-digger? Maximum Destruction?”

The man laughs, a low rumble, and it’s the best thing Ian’s ever heard with his own two ears.

“First off, stop listing names of fuckin’ monster trucks.” He snorts. “And second, her name is Lia.”

Ian laughs along. “And you’re over here busting Penelope’s balls for having a cutesy name?”

The man shrugs. “She already had a name when I adopted her from the rescue shelter. Not gonna confuse her by re-naming her.”

“She’s a rescue dog, huh?” Everything Ian learns makes him want to know more about this guy. “Mind if I ask her owner’s name?” Ian can’t tell if he’s being smooth or coming across as a dumbass, but the man seems amused regardless.

“Me? Name’s Mickey.” He extends his hand to shake, and before Ian takes it he notices the knuckle tats- yet another factor to drive him wild. “How about you? Got a name?”

“Ian.” Ian shakes his hand firmly, and it feels like more than a mere formality. He swears he’s not imagining it- there’s a spark when they touch, and Ian realizes he can’t waste an opportunity to change his life for the better.

“You up to anything after this?” Ian asks, projecting all the confidence he can muster. “I know a bar about a block from here that’s dog-friendly…”

Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment Ian wonders if he’s reading the signals wrong. Then a grin appears on Mickey’s face.

“You askin’ me on a date, Ian?”

Ian’s face heats up, but he’s giddy, something he hasn’t felt in years. “Maybe. If that’s what you wanna call it. Kinda just want to get to know you better, Mickey.”

“You’re in luck then, cuz I love a good mid-day beer.” Mickey sets off down the park path, motioning for Ian to follow him. “And a drinking buddy wouldn’t be so bad, either.”

It takes Ian a moment to realize that this is Mickey’s way of saying ‘yes’, but once he does, he’s jogging to catch up, Penelope bouncing in the crook of his arm.

Something tells Ian he’s just made the best decision of his life.

[xianyoon]

꒰ AFTER HOURS @ THE TEAHOUSE ꒱

PRESENTING . . . the teahouse's secret menu !

here are some of the visitors of the teahouse that sneak in after closing time . . . these are miss ying's most esteemed visitors ! make sure to greet them nicely , because these three will act like her personal bodyguards should anything nasty come their way.

THE WRIOYING SLING!

WRIOYING | wriothesley + ying !

sunshine x stormcloud trope !!!

ying and wrio met when he had finally gone up to the surface to get an errand done himself – until his sunshine spitfire (whom he had no idea who!) rammed into him at full speed. needless to say, there was a lot of apologising, and lots of promises to buy drinks as an apology gift! it didn't take much for him to take up the offer from the girl who caught his eye ( and got caught on his leg. and hence, tripped. )

it was history from then on ;–) he didn't realise that she was a social worker who would be working alongside some fortress inmates who actually wanted to leave after their time ended !!! she was to help them with reentering society :3c

stolen glances at his office, the curtains ever so slightly drawn back to let them take peeks at each other . . . asking for more one on one meetings and insisting that it was "vital to the progress of the inmates" and sneaky kisses before leaving his office hehee.

so maybe this was coworkers au after all

sea goddess au .. . . . official post coming out soon !

song : dawn in the adan / ichiko aoba

first pic | second pic | third pic

THE HAIYING MARGARITA!

HAIYING | al haitham + ying !

calm black cat bf x excitable orange cat gf trope !!

hmm, where did ying and alhaitham meet? i'd love to think of it as a library meetcute – or best student x worst student. the library meetcute happened when both of them reached for the same book . . . cheesy but cute ! alhaitham got so woahed for a bit that he let go of the heavy book so suddenly, and because she was holding it ( and did not expect him to let go! ) she fell forward. onto him. and he caught her so effortlessly that she couldn't help but think that she quite literally fell for him.

and she started going to the library more often to sneak a glimpse of him ! she's not very good at being sneaky, so he caught her and asked if she wanted to join him ( of course she did. ) – she fumbled a little and said "only if you'd like me to." andddd to her surprise? it was responded to with a "of course i would."

girl who's in love with the world x boy who needs to see more of it

library dates !!!!! always ! tutor!bf x needs tutoring!gf !

song : good in me / bones & the boy

first pic | second pic | third pic

THE ISOYING COCKTAIL!

ISOYING | iso + ying !

sunshine x grumpycloud trope !

ying and iso met in valorant hq – ying had been recruited right before iso . . . she knew there was something special to him, but didn't know quite what! it was nice to see another agent of the same descent – maybe she, iso and sage could have dinner together.

honestly, she didn't quite like him at the start. he was too quiet, too stony, too aloof for her liking ; ying couldn't ever imagine being able to hang out with him one on one in fear of having to be the only one to fill the silence or sit through it.

until one day! she wanted to train with sage . . . but iso got there first. "oh! sorry... i'll come back later then." she apologised hastily, grabbing her things and preparing to head out.

"...it's fine. 如果你想留下来，就继续吧." [it's fine. if you want to stay, just continue.]

she sat right down and watched him finish his session before starting her own. it was just a regular session – him standing behind, ying making use of her radiant powers ... until:

“赶快做完。跟我去买珍珠奶茶，好吗?” [finish your training quickly. come with me to get boba, alright?] .. she'd never finished a training session so quickly in her life.

boba & hotpot dates !!!! night market dates once they went back to china !!!

song : 慢慢喜欢你 / karen mok

first pic | second pic | third pic

[ladysif8]

Captured in Color

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: Baker Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Meetcute, Gay Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Photo Shoots, Stucky, First Meetings, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Pride Month.

Summary: Milia Cooper, a talented photographer for a renowned New York magazine, is all set for an important Pride Month shoot when her models cancel at the last minute. Desperate and determined, she turns to her childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes, and her college confidant, Steve Rogers. As they step in to save the day, Milia seizes the chance to play matchmaker, hoping to spark a connection between the two. Amid the vibrant backdrop of the Pride celebration, unexpected feelings emerge, making this shoot one that none of them will ever forget.

Welp, it's taken a year to write. But better late than never! I present to you my first Stucky fic! It's a little rough; all mistakes are my own.

A special shoutout to @talia-rumlow for planting this seed in my brain and helping me water it.

Nestled in the heart of Brooklyn, Pride Pastries & Perks occupied a cozy corner of an old, charming building that had stood the test of time. The bakery's façade was a delightful blend of vintage and modern aesthetics, with exposed brick walls that told stories of decades past. The large, floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop bathed the interior in natural light, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The bakery's name, Pride Pastries & Perks, was elegantly scrolled across the glass in bold, whimsical lettering that drew the eye of passersby. Inside, the scent of freshly baked goods mingled with the rich aroma of brewing coffee, enticing customers to step in and indulge.

The interior was a haven of rustic charm. Wooden beams ran across the high ceilings, and the original hardwood floors creaked softly underfoot. A mix of colorful, mismatched chairs and tables added a playful touch, while potted plants dotted around the room brought a burst of greenery, complementing the earthy tones of the space.

Behind the counter, a glass display case showcased an array of vibrant pastries and cookies, each one a small work of art. The pride-themed confections were especially popular, their bright colors and intricate designs celebrating love and diversity. And it's not just the pastries that are a work of art. Bucky, the skilled baker, could often be seen working in the open kitchen at the back, his concentration evident as he piped delicate patterns onto freshly baked treats. His personal touch is what makes our pastries truly special.

The bakery was more than just a place to get a sweet treat; it was a vibrant community hub where locals gathered to share stories, laugh, and enjoy the cozy ambiance. Pride Pastries & Perks was a testament to the spirit of Brooklyn—diverse, welcoming, and full of heart. It's a place where you're not just a customer but a valued member of our community.

Bucky stood at his workbench, his hands rhythmically kneading a vibrant swirl of rainbow bagel dough. The colors blended together in a mesmerizing pattern, a testament to his baking skills and creativity. The scent of yeast and flour filled the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of pastries and freshly brewed coffee.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer. Instantly, his two front-end employees called out in unison, "Welcome to Pride Pastries & Perks!"

Bucky smiled to himself, appreciating the enthusiasm they brought to the shop. He continued working, focusing on achieving the perfect texture for the dough when he heard a familiar voice.

"Is Bucky busy?" It was Mila, his best friend since kindergarten, her voice carrying the same blend of curiosity and determination it always did.

"Yes!" Bucky hollered without looking up, knowing that if Mila was here, she was probably up to something.

But Wanda, one of the baristas, chimed in cheerfully, "No, he's not!"

Bucky glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Mila flash a grateful smile at Wanda. "Thanks!" she said, heading towards the back.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as he saw her approach.

Mila took in the sight of her best friend, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled up in a bun on his head, undercut freshly trimmed. He was wearing jeans, and a black tee stretched across his chest, dusted in flour from his baking. It was a shame Bucky Barnes was gay, she thought to herself with a small smile.

His rugged good looks and strong physique were enough to turn heads anywhere he went, but his kind heart and unwavering loyalty made him truly irresistible.

"That was so rude," Mila said, walking into the kitchen, a mock pout on her lips.

Bucky wrinkled his nose at her playfully. "You never visit me at work unless you need something from me or you're having a bad day and need to vent," he said, glancing at his watch. "And since it's only 9:30, I'm assuming you want something. So, which is it?"

Mila rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter. "Can't a girl just visit her best friend without ulterior motives?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not you," he teased, continuing to knead the colorful dough.

"Okay, fine," she sighed dramatically. "I do need something. But it's for a good cause, I promise."

Bucky stopped kneading for a moment, giving her his full attention. "Alright, spill. What's so important that you had to disrupt my dough time?"

"Okay, so you know how I'm doing this piece for Pride for the magazine, right?" Mila asked.

Bucky nodded. He knew his best friend was working on a Pride spread for the New York Chronicles. Mila was one of the best writers and photographers the magazine had, and she'd been working on this project for months. She was showcasing queer-owned businesses and their owners.

"Anyway, the two guys we had to do the spread dropped out. So now I need new models. The shoot is in two days."

Bucky plopped his dough into a bowl to proof a second time before draping a cheesecloth over it. "Okay, what does this have to do with me?" he asked, dusting the flour off his hands.

"I need you to model for me," Mila said, her tone pleading.

Bucky laughed and outright cackled. "No," he said, shaking his head emphatically.

"Please, Bucky!" Mila begged, following her best friend around the kitchen.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not a model, Mils. I'm a baker," he said, grabbing a tray of white-frosted sugar cookies.

"Buuucky..." she whined, stomping as she followed him to his station.

Bucky had laid out an array of bright, colorful royal icing from red to purple; all twisted up in piping bags ready to be used. He'd already finished three trays of cookies cooling on the rack, each one a half-circle shape with a rainbow piped on top. Underneath, in beautiful script, was the phrase "Love is Love." The colors of the rainbow popped against the white frosting, making each cookie a little piece of art. There were three other designs as well: one was a heart-shaped cookie with the word PRIDE stretched across it in bold letters, each letter a different rainbow color. Another cookie spelled out the word "Love" in purple, while "Wins" was in red, yellow, green, and blue. The last cookie said "Pride," with a cute little heart over the 'i.' The base of this cookie was rainbow-striped with a thin white line between each color. They were beautifully made.

"Mila, don't whine, honey. That's not attractive," he smirked, picking up a red piping bag.

Mila frowned, crossing her arms and resting her hip against the silver table. "Bucky, I'm serious. I'm in a bind here. I need someone who embodies the spirit of Pride and community. And you're perfect for it."

He shook his head again. "I wouldn't even know what to do."

"Just be yourself," Mila insisted. "That's all I need. You, being your amazing self. Plus, it'll be fun. Think of it as a new adventure!"

Bucky sighed, leaning against the counter. "Why me, though? There have to be other people who can do this."

Mila stepped closer, her eyes earnest. "Because you're not just anyone, Bucky. You're passionate and talented, and you care about this community. And you're my best friend. Please, I really need you."

Bucky looked at her, seeing the desperation and sincerity in her eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, considering. "You really think I can do this?"

"What if I told you the other guy is a tall, bulky, blonde hunk?" Mila said, wagging her eyebrows as Bucky looked over at her, his blue eyes narrowing with interest.

"He's an artist, 33," she added, seeing him pucker his lips as he thought it over. "And he's single," she sang, dragging out the last word with a playful smile.

"Gay?" Bucky asked.

"Bi," Mila replied, biting her lip with excitement. They both knew she had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Bucky sighed, leaning against the counter. "You're relentless, you know that?"

Mila grinned, knowing she had him hooked. "Yup. So, what do you say? Will you do it?"

Bucky shook his head but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Fine. But you owe me big time."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Mila squealed, clapping her hands. "You're amazing, the bestest of best friends, you're a goddess, you're—"

Bucky quickly stuffed a cookie in her mouth. "I get it," he laughed.

Mila frowned for a moment before taking a bite of the heart-shaped cookie, chewing happily. "These are really good," she mumbled around a mouthful.

"Of course they are; I made them," he winked over his shoulder.

Mila walked out of the bakery, balancing two to-go coffees in one hand and a bag with two cinnamon rolls in the other. She smiled triumphantly, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The morning sun was shining, and the streets of Brooklyn buzzed with their usual energy.

As she strolled down the street, she pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to Peter Parker, her intern.

Miss Mila: Got Bucky!

Peter's response was almost immediate.

Parker: Great! So, does that mean Steve agreed?

Mila quickly typed back.

Miss Mila: On my way to secure him now.

Parker: So you lied to your friend?

Miss Mila: No, I told him a little fib.

Parker: Isn't that the same thing?

Mila rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone. Interns, she thought with a smirk, always so literal.

Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, she picked up her pace. The sidewalk was bustling with people, but Mila weaved through them effortlessly, her mind focused on the task ahead. She needed to convince Steve, and she was determined to ensure the success of her Pride photoshoot. The thought of the vibrant, celebratory spread she envisioned filled her with excitement and anticipation.

Steve stood in his studio, surrounded by a vibrant array of paints and canvases. Soft jazz music played in the background, mingling with the quiet hum of the city outside. The room was a chaotic symphony of color, with splatters of paint on the floor and various completed pieces lining the walls, each one a testament to his creativity and passion.

He wore a white tank top, now speckled with a rainbow of paint, and his jeans bore similar evidence of his artistic endeavors. His hands moved with practiced ease, applying bold strokes of color to the canvas before him. He was working on a Pride piece, a celebration of love and identity, and the canvas was already bursting with life.

The painting featured an array of abstract figures in a joyous dance, their forms intertwining in a kaleidoscope of colors. Each stroke was deliberate, and each hue was chosen to convey the vibrancy and diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. Steve stepped back for a moment, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of blue paint on his forehead. He smiled at the small mess he had made on himself, a familiar part of his artistic process.

He took a deep breath, feeling the music and the energy of the piece fill him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment. This was more than just a painting; it was a statement, a tribute to the beauty of diversity and the power of love.

As he worked, he lost himself in the rhythm of the brushstrokes and the soothing melodies of the jazz music. The outside world faded away, leaving only the canvas, the colors, and his passion for creating something meaningful. The paintbrush glided effortlessly across the canvas, each stroke adding depth and emotion to the unfolding scene.

Steve paused again, examining his work with a critical eye. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the progress. There was still much to do, but he could already see the piece coming to life, reflecting the spirit of Pride in every vibrant detail. The figures on the canvas seemed to dance with joy, their colorful forms celebrating the beauty of being true to oneself.

Steve was lost in the flow of his painting when he heard a knock on the door. Without looking up, he hollered, "Enter!"

The door creaked open, and Mila walked in carrying two to-go cups of coffee and a small brown sack. The rich aroma of the coffee quickly filled the studio, blending with the scent of paint and creativity.

Mila eyed Steve carefully as she crossed the room, taking in his paint-splattered clothes and the blue smear on his forehead, even a little in his blonde hair. Steven Grant Rogers was an absolute mouth-watering specimen, with golden blonde locks, sweet blue eyes, and an impressive physique. His broad shoulders, muscular chest, and trim waist accentuated his glorious backside.

Mila had met Steve during her freshman year of college. They had an art history class together, and after being paired up for a partner project, the two became fast friends. Mila had even written her first article for the magazine on local artists featuring her dear friend.

"Darling, you look like shit," she commented with a smirk.

"Hardy har har," Steve replied dryly, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He set down his brush and wiped his hands on a rag, turning to face her.

Mila handed him one of the coffee cups and the brown sack. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," she said. "And maybe a break."

Steve accepted the coffee gratefully, taking a long sip. "Bless you," he mumbled around the cup as the warmth and caffeine instantly revived him. "This is exactly what I needed."

She grinned, settling herself on a stool nearby. "So, how's the masterpiece coming along?"

Steve glanced at the canvas, his expression softening with pride. "It's getting there. Still, a lot of work to do, but I'm happy with how it's shaping up."

Mila nodded, taking a sip of her own coffee. "It looks incredible, Steve. I can already see the energy and emotion in it."

He smiled, appreciating her encouragement. "Thanks, Mils."

"Here, brought you breakfast," she said, handing over a styrofoam container and a fork.

Steve's bright blue eyes lit up. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, snatching the container from her hands. He opened it to reveal a massive, hot apple pie cinnamon roll.

The surface of the roll was dusted with a generous coating of cinnamon sugar, adding a delightful crunch to each mouthful. A heavenly aroma of warm cinnamon and baked apples wafted from the roll, tempting anyone within smelling distance.

Steve quickly dug into the cinnamon roll, taking a large bite. He moaned happily as he chewed, savoring the sweet and spicy flavors melting in his mouth.

The roll was large and fluffy, with layers of soft, buttery dough spiraled around a rich apple pie filling. Each bite revealed tender chunks of cinnamon-spiced apples nestled amidst a sweet and gooey caramel sauce that oozed out with every bite.

As Steve indulged in the decadent treat, he couldn't help but marvel at the perfect balance of flavors and textures. It was comfort food at its finest, a sweet escape from the demands of the day and a reminder of the simple joys in life.

"I swear," Steve started to speak around his full mouth, "these get better every time," he mumbled rather obnoxiously.

Mila rolled her eyes, a smirk on her lips. "Manners, Steven," she chided playfully.

"Swrry," he mumbled, his bulging cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Steve took another bite of the cinnamon roll, savoring the flavor before he glanced at Mila. "So, what are you up to? I thought you were getting ready for a photo shoot in a few days."

Mila shifted on her stool, her expression turning slightly sheepish. "Yeah, about that..." She hesitated before continuing, "I need to ask you something. I need you to be my second model."

Steve blinked at her, utterly shocked. "Me? A model?"

Mila nodded, looking a bit desperate. "My models quit at the last minute, and now I'm scrambling. I don't have anyone else."

Steve fumbled with his words, trying to find a way to say no. "Mila, I'm not a model. I don't know how to do that. I can't..."

"Please, Steve," she begged, batting her pretty lashes at him.

Steve huffed. Mila was a very attractive woman. Her beautiful brown doe eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, dark brown hair, and naturally tanned skin, thanks to her father, who hailed from Spain, always caught attention. Steve had been attracted to her the moment he saw her curvy, voluptuous body. While he preferred men, he wasn't blind. Thankfully, they had developed a brother-sister relationship over time.

"Mila, I really don't think—"

"Please, Steve," she interrupted, her eyes pleading.

He sighed, knowing he was already weakening. "You know I'm terrible in front of a camera," he protested half-heartedly.

"Steve, you'll be perfect," she insisted. "I just need you to stand there and look like the amazing person you are. You don't have to do anything special."

He looked at her, those doe eyes full of hope and desperation. He couldn't say no to her, not when she looked at him like that.

"Fine," he relented, "but only because it's you."

Mila's face lit up with relief and gratitude; she squealed happily, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Steve. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Steve sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Alright, alright. But who am I modeling with?"

Mila's eyes sparkled with excitement. "He's a tall, dark, and handsome guy with steel blue eyes. Trust me, you're going to get along great."

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Tall, dark, and handsome, huh? Sounds like you've got quite the catch."

Mila grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, definitely. You'll see. He's perfect for this shoot, and I think you two will make an amazing team."

Steve couldn't help but smile back at her infectious enthusiasm. "I'm trusting you on this."

Mila's grin widened. "You won't be disappointed, Steve. This is going to be fantastic, I promise."

Bucky walked into the studio, where Cage The Elephant's "Cigarette Daydreams" played softly in the background. The familiar sound of a camera shutter clicking and a deep, resonant laugh filled the air. He suddenly felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he stepped further into the room, his eyes landed on a tall man with artfully messy blonde hair and a neatly trimmed, darker blonde beard. The man's cerulean blue eyes sparkled as he laughed, a sound that seemed to light up the entire space. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was sinfully tight, showcasing his impressive biceps, and light-wash denim jeans with rips at the knees. Bucky couldn't help but notice that he was barefoot, adding an unexpected casualness to his appearance.

Bucky almost forgot to breathe because that man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man he had ever seen. His presence was commanding yet approachable, and Bucky felt an overwhelming mixture of awe and intimidation.

Trying to steady himself, Bucky took a deep breath and stepped further into the studio, feeling his palms grow sweaty. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man, who was effortlessly captivating even as he laughed and joked with Mila.

Mila spotted Bucky as soon as he stepped into the studio. "Bucky!" she hollered, jogging over to him with a bright smile on her face.

Bucky tried to play it cool, standing straight and giving a casual wave. But as she got closer, his facade cracked. "Mila, you didn't tell me the other guy was built like a Greek god," he scolded his voice a mix of awe and exasperation.

Mila laughed, glancing back at Steve, who was still engrossed in his conversation with the photographer. "Oh, come on, Buck. You're no slouch yourself. Besides, I did say he was handsome."

Bucky shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Handsome is one thing, but that guy could be the poster child for perfection. You set me up."

Mila grinned mischievously. "Maybe a little. But trust me, you two are going to look amazing together in this shoot. Just relax and have fun with it."

Bucky sighed, glancing back at Steve, who caught his eye and gave a friendly nod. "Alright, alright. Let's get this over with," he muttered, though a small part of him was actually looking forward to working with Steve.

Mila beamed and grabbed Bucky's hand, leading him towards Steve. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

As they approached, Steve turned to face them, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth. Mila's excitement was palpable as she gestured between the two men. "Steve, this is Bucky Barnes, the amazing baker and my oldest friend I was telling you about. Bucky, this is Steve Rogers, the incredible artist and the only reason I made it through art history in college."

Steve extended his hand with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm a huge fan of your cinnamon rolls."

Bucky blushed as he took Steve's hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip. "Nice to meet you too, Steve."

Peter Parker, with his ever-present enthusiasm, popped into the studio with a grin. He was dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie, his hair slightly tousled from running around.

"Hey, Bucky!" he called out, spotting Bucky talking to Steve and Mila. He jogged over, barely able to contain his excitement. "Good to see you; they're ready for you in wardrobe."

Bucky glanced at Peter, appreciating his youthful energy. "Thanks, Peter," he said with a nod, turning to Mila and Steve. "Guess I'll go get changed."

Mila patted Bucky on the back reassuringly. "We'll be waiting."

Steve gave him an encouraging smile. "Looking forward to seeing the final look."

Peter led a blushing Bucky toward the wardrobe area, chatting animatedly. "You're going to look awesome, Bucky. Mila had the whole awesome idea planned out for the spread."

Bucky chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease with Peter's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Peter. I'll try not to mess it up."

Steve was laughing as Mila took test shots of him, her enthusiasm infectious. "Yes, darling, you're fabulous! Work it, darling; the camera is your friend," she cooed, her voice dripping with playful encouragement. Steve played along, striking exaggerated poses that made both of them burst into laughter.

The sound of footsteps caught Steve's attention, and he turned to see Bucky walking in. His heart nearly stopped. Bucky was dressed similarly to Steve, though his shirt wasn't nearly as tight. His brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing his face. The light caught his steely blue eyes, making them shine. His smooth, baby face and cleft chin gave him a look of rugged yet gentle charm that made Steve's breath catch.

Steve's mind raced, an unexpected wave of desire surging through him. He wanted to grab Bucky and kiss him right then and there, but he forced himself to stay composed. Instead, he offered a welcoming smile, trying to steady his suddenly racing heart.

Mila, sensing the tension, turned to Bucky with a grin. "Bucky, you look amazing! Come on over; let's get some shots of you two together."

Bucky, looking slightly nervous but determined, walked over to join Steve. As they stood side by side, Steve couldn't help but feel an electric charge in the air. Despite the playful banter and lighthearted atmosphere, there was an undeniable connection forming between them.

Mila adjusted her camera, ready to capture the chemistry that was already palpable. "Alright, boys, let's make some magic happen."

Mila snapped a few shots of Steve and Bucky smiling at each other, capturing the natural chemistry between them. "Perfect, you two are naturals," she praised, her excitement evident.

"Peter!" she hollered, causing the young intern to spring into action. He and another assistant quickly pulled out a large white backdrop, setting it up behind Steve and Bucky. Peter then brought in a cart loaded with bottles of paint in every color of the rainbow and handed each of them a paintbrush.

Steve and Bucky exchanged curious glances, each holding a brush as if it were a foreign object. Steve finally asked, "What are we supposed to do with these?"

Mila grinned mischievously. "Just have at it! Get creative, have some fun."

Bucky, embracing the spontaneity of the moment, dipped his brush into a pot of blue paint. As he turned to look at Steve, Peter accidentally dropped a bottle of paint behind him. Startled, Bucky whipped around, flinging paint off his brush. A streak of blue splattered across Steve's face, making both men freeze for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Nice aim, Barnes," Steve teased, wiping some of the paint from his cheek with a playful smirk.

Bucky laughed sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Steve. Didn't mean to give you a new look."

Mila was already snapping photos, capturing the candid moment of chaos and fun. "That's it! Keep going; this is fantastic!"

Steve, deciding to embrace the chaos, dipped his brush into a pot of red paint and flicked it toward Bucky, leaving a streak across his shirt. "Payback," he said with a grin.

The room quickly filled with laughter and vibrant splashes of color as the two men playfully painted each other and the backdrop, losing themselves in the joyous spontaneity of the moment. Mila kept her camera clicking, capturing every playful exchange, knowing these were the shots that would truly bring the Pride photoshoot to life.

Peter hurried back into the room, this time holding a vibrant Pride flag. "Here, hold this behind you," he said, handing it to Bucky.

Bucky and Steve, both now covered in splashes of paint, took the flag and positioned it behind them, stretching it out so its bright colors were on full display, draping across their shoulders. Despite the paint and the mess, they couldn't stop smiling. Mila's camera clicked away, capturing the raw, joyful energy of the moment.

"Perfect, you two! Just like that!" Mila called out, her excitement evident in her voice. She snapped shot after shot, loving the way the colors and their expressions told a story of pride and connection.

As they held the flag, Steve found himself unable to look away from Bucky. He noticed how the blue of Bucky's eyes sparkled even more against the colorful backdrop. His gaze drifted down to Bucky's lips, then back up to his eyes, and then down again. It was as if the world around them faded, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

Summoning his courage, Steve took a leap of faith. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Bucky's, his heart pounding in his chest. For a split second, he worried about how Bucky would react, but his fears melted away as Bucky responded, pushing up into the kiss and deepening it.

The studio seemed to pause, the sounds of the city outside and the soft hum of the studio equipment fading away. It was just them, lost in a kiss that felt like a culmination of everything unspoken between them.

Mila, sensing the significance of the moment, snapped a few more pictures, capturing the intimacy and raw emotion of the kiss. The Pride flag behind them fluttered slightly, adding a symbolic layer to the already powerful scene.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Steve whispered, "I've wanted to do that for a while."

Bucky, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining, replied, "Me too." They both laughed, a sense of relief and happiness washing over them.

Mila lowered her camera, grinning widely. "Now that's what I call a perfect shot."

After they were cleaned up and ready to leave, Steve walked with Bucky to the door. The evening air was cool and refreshing after the colorful chaos of the photoshoot. As they stepped outside, Steve hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand, stopping him gently.

"Bucky," Steve began, his voice a mix of nerves and hope, "I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner sometime."

Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes twinkling and a smile tugging at his lips. He bit his lower lip, clearly pleased. "I'd love that," he replied softly.

Steve's heart lifted at Bucky's response. Emboldened, he asked, "Would it be too bold of me to suggest that dinner could be this evening?"

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Yes, it would be bold of you," he said, leaning in a little closer, "and yes, I would love to go to dinner tonight."

Steve grinned, his relief and excitement evident. "Great! There's a nice little place not too far from here. How about we meet back here in an hour?"

Bucky nodded, his smile widening. "Sounds perfect."

They shared a lingering look, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air between them. With a final squeeze of Bucky's hand, Steve reluctantly let go. "See you in an hour, then."

"Can't wait," Bucky replied, his voice full of anticipation.

As they parted ways to get ready for their impromptu date, both of them felt a thrilling sense of new beginnings and the exciting possibilities that lay ahead.

Mila and Peter had overheard the whole exchange, their eyes following Steve and Bucky as they walked away in different directions. Peter turned to Mila, a knowing look on his face.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Mila dropped her bag over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied innocently. As she walked past Peter, she patted his cheek affectionately. "You did good today, Peter," she added, her tone warm and approving.

Peter blushed slightly at the praise but couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks, Mila. And thanks for letting me be part of this. It was... pretty amazing."

Mila winked at him. "Just wait, Parker. This is only the beginning." With that, she strode confidently down the street, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Her plan had come together perfectly, and she couldn't wait to see where Steve and Bucky's newfound connection would lead.

Bucky and Steve walked side by side down the street, heading toward a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, Nona Pias, that Steve had suggested. The evening air was cool, and the city around them buzzed with life, the hum of traffic and distant chatter creating a lively backdrop.

As they walked, Steve reached out and gently took Bucky's hand, his thumb brushing lightly over Bucky's knuckles. He glanced at Bucky, his expression a mix of hope and nerves. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

Bucky blushed, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He dipped his head, looking up at Steve from under his lashes. "Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They continued walking, hand in hand, the simple connection feeling both new and wonderfully right. When they reached the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm fairy lights and the inviting smell of garlic and herbs wafting from inside, Steve let go of Bucky's hand only to open the door for him.

"After you," Steve said, a charming smile on his face.

Bucky smiled sweetly a light blush on his cheeks, "Thank you," he stepped inside, and as he did, Steve placed his hand on the small of Bucky's back, guiding him gently. The touch was warm and reassuring, and Bucky felt a flutter in his chest, thinking he might faint from the sheer perfection of the moment. This man was too good to be true; Steve was everything he had hoped for and more.

The hostess, Vicky, greeted Steve by name with a warm smile. Steve blushed at the look Bucky gave him, his face heating up in the soft light of the restaurant.

"I come here a lot," Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bucky raised an amused brow, his lips twitching into a smile. "Is that so?" he said.

Steve's blush deepened, but he chuckled. "Yeah, the food's just that good."

Vicky smiled warmly at their exchange. "This way, gentlemen," she said, leading them to a quiet corner table nestled away from the main dining area. The table was set with a simple but elegant arrangement, a small candle flickering in the center. The atmosphere was intimate, the perfect setting for their first official date.

As they sat down, Steve pulled out Bucky's chair for him before taking his own seat. They exchanged shy smiles, the initial nerves melting away in the warm, inviting ambiance of the restaurant.

"Here's your menu. Tori will be your waitress tonight," Vicky said, placing a menu down in front of each of them.

Steve smiled, "Thanks, Vicky," he said.

Once they were settled and had a few minutes to look over the menu, Tori came over with two glasses of ice water, setting them down with practiced ease.

"What can I get you, gentlemen, to drink?" she asked, pulling a pencil from the red bun piled on top of her head.

While Bucky perused the menu, Steve glanced at the wine list. "How does Barbera d'Alba sound?" he asked, looking at Bucky for approval.

Bucky nodded, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through him at Steve's consideration. "Sounds perfect."

"We'll take a bottle, please," Steve said to Tori, who jotted it down with a nod.

"What can I get you for dinner?" she asked, her pencil poised above her notepad.

Bucky glanced at Steve before turning to Tori. "I'll have the chicken Parmesan, please," he said with a smile. "It's been ages since I've had a good one."

"Excellent choice," Tori nodded while jotting it down and then turned to Steve. "And for you?"

Steve glanced at the menu one last time before deciding. "I'll go with the spaghetti Bolognese," he said.

"I should have known, a creature of habit this one," she jerked her pencil in Steve's direction.

Steve shrugged, "I know what I like," he chuckled.

"I'll put this in and get the wine right out for you," she smiled, tucking the pencil back into her bun and heading off to retrieve their wine.

Before long, Tori returned with the bottle of Barbera d'Alba and two wine glasses. She expertly uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into Steve's glass for him to taste. Steve swirled the wine, sniffed it appreciatively, and then took a sip, savoring the rich, fruity notes.

"This is great," Steve said, nodding his approval.

Tori filled both their glasses and left the bottle on the table with a smile. "Enjoy, gentlemen."

They toasted each other, clinking their glasses together gently. "To a great evening," Bucky said, his eyes meeting Steve's over the rim of his glass.

"To a great evening," Steve echoed, feeling a thrill of excitement.

They took a moment to savor the wine, letting the warmth of the alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere envelop them. The restaurant buzzed with soft conversations and the clinking of cutlery, creating a cozy, intimate setting.

As Steve and Bucky continued to talk, their conversation filled with laughter and shared stories, Tori returned with their meals. She balanced the plates expertly, a warm smile on her face as she approached their table.

"Here we are, gentlemen," she said, carefully placing Bucky's chicken Parmesan in front of him. The dish was a masterpiece of Italian comfort food, with perfectly breaded chicken, melted mozzarella, and a rich tomato sauce that made Bucky's mouth water.

"And for you," Tori continued, setting down Steve's spaghetti Bolognese. The generous portion of pasta was coated in a hearty, flavorful meat sauce and topped with a sprinkle of freshly grated Parmesan.

"Enjoy your meals," she said, giving them a friendly nod before heading off to attend to other tables.

Bucky inhaled deeply, savoring the delicious aroma wafting up from his plate. "This smells amazing," he said, picking up his fork and knife. He cut into the chicken, the crispy breading giving way to tender, juicy meat. His first bite was pure bliss, the flavors dancing on his tongue. "Oh wow, this is incredible."

Steve grinned, twirling his fork in the spaghetti and taking a bite. The rich Bolognese sauce was everything he had hoped for, bursting with robust flavors. "I knew this place wouldn't disappoint," he said, nodding in agreement. "It's just as good as I remember."

They ate with gusto, the conversation flowing naturally as they enjoyed their meals. Bucky's eyes sparkled as he recounted a funny story from his days learning to bake with his mom, and Steve found himself laughing along, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

"So, what made you decide to pursue art as a career?" Bucky asked, taking a sip of his wine.

Steve paused, thinking back to his early days. "It's something I've always loved, even as a kid. I was always drawing or painting, trying to capture the world around me. When I got older, I realized it was more than just a hobby—it was a passion. I couldn't imagine doing anything else."

Bucky nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I get that. Baking is similar for me. It's my way of creating something tangible, something that brings joy to others. There's nothing quite like seeing someone's face light up when they taste something you've made."

Steve's eyes softened as he listened, appreciating Bucky's genuine passion. "It's amazing how art and food can both connect people in such profound ways," he said.

As the meal went on, Bucky found himself more and more captivated by Steve. The way he spoke about his art, his eyes lighting up with passion, and the gentle, thoughtful way he listened and responded to Bucky's stories made him feel seen and appreciated.

Steve, too, was drawn to Bucky's warmth and sincerity. He admired Bucky's dedication to his craft and the genuine joy he took in making others happy through his baking. There was an undeniable connection between them, a chemistry that was both exciting and comforting.

By the time they finished their meals, they were both feeling pleasantly full and slightly tipsy from the wine, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of the restaurant around them.

Tori returned to clear their plates, her smile as warm as ever. "How was everything?" she asked.

"Perfect," Steve said, glancing at Bucky, who nodded in agreement.

"Absolutely," Bucky added. "Thank you."

"Great to hear," Tori replied. "Can I get you anything else? Dessert, maybe?"

Steve looked at Bucky, a playful glint in his eye. "What do you think? Dessert?"

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I'm stuffed. But maybe next time?"

Steve's smile widened at the promise of a future date. "Next time, then," he agreed.

Tori nodded at their decline and left the check for them. Steve insisted on paying, and after a brief, friendly debate, Bucky relented, touched by Steve's chivalry.

As they prepared to leave, Steve looked at Bucky with a soft smile. "This was really nice, Bucky. I'm glad we did this."

Bucky smiled back, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the wine. "Me too, Steve. Me too."

After dinner, they decided to walk back to Bucky's apartment. The night air was crisp, and they walked close together, shoulders brushing. They talked and laughed, their voices mingling with the sounds of the city.

Their faces flushed with the warmth of alcohol as they made their way to Bucky's apartment. They swayed slightly as they walked, their steps not quite aligned as they walked under the dim streetlights. The sound of their laughter echoed softly through the quiet night air, and their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between stories and jokes.

As they walked, Steve reached out and gently took Bucky's hand again, the touch warm and reassuring. Bucky felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of excitement and contentment. The simple act of holding hands felt natural as if it was something they had been meant to do all along.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from their favorite movies to their most embarrassing moments. Steve shared a story about a disastrous high school art project, and Bucky laughed so hard he had to stop walking for a moment to catch his breath.

"You seriously glued your own hand to the canvas?" Bucky asked, still chuckling.

Steve nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, it was a mess. Took hours to get it off."

Bucky shook his head, smiling. "I can't believe you just told me that."

"Well, I figured you should know what you're getting into," Steve said with a wink.

They continued their stroll, the comfortable silence between them occasionally broken by lighthearted banter. When they reached Bucky's apartment building, they lingered outside the door, neither wanting the night to end.

Steve looked at Bucky, his eyes soft in the dim streetlight. "I had a really great time tonight," he said quietly.

"Me too," Bucky replied, his voice equally soft. He felt a nervous excitement bubbling up inside him.

As they reached the brownstone that housed Bucky's apartment, their voices quieted. Steve gripped Bucky's hand a little tighter, not ready to say goodbye just yet. As they reached Bucky's apartment door, they paused, standing close together. The air between them was charged with anticipation. Steve looked into Bucky's eyes, his heart racing. For a moment, neither of them spoke, simply reveling in the presence of the other.

Steve wasn't sure if it was wine or if he was feeling particularly bold that day, but Steve ducked his head and kissed Bucky softly, his lips brushing against Bucky's in a tender, tentative touch. He pulled back slightly, searching Bucky's face for any sign of discomfort. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't answer with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time. Their tongues tangled together, and Bucky moaned into the kiss, tasting the sweet red wine on Steve's tongue.

The world around them seemed to blur and fade away.

Steve responded eagerly, his hands finding their way to Bucky's waist. As the kiss deepened, he pressed Bucky into the wall next to his apartment door, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The kiss was full of promise, a silent agreement that they were both exactly where they wanted to be.

Bucky's hands roamed up to Steve's hair, his fingers threading through the soft strands. He tugged gently, eliciting a low, pleased sound from Steve. The heat between them was undeniable, the chemistry electric.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and a little dazed, Steve rested his forehead against Bucky's. "I've been wanting to do that all night," he admitted, his voice husky.

Bucky smiled, his eyes shining. "Me too," he replied, his breath mingling with Steve's. They stood there for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other, before reluctantly pulling away.

"Do you want to come in?" Bucky asked, his voice soft but hopeful.

Steve smiled, his heart pounding. "I'd love to," he replied, knowing that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

Bucky unlocked the door and ushered Steve inside. The dimly lit apartment offered a cozy sanctuary from the chilly night air. Steve took a moment to appreciate the space, a mix of vintage finds and modern elegance that spoke volumes about Bucky's taste and style. The warmth and familiarity of the place made him feel even more connected to Bucky.

Bucky led Steve to the living room, where they settled onto the plush leather couch. The soft drapes were half-drawn, casting a warm amber glow over the room. Steve's eyes lingered on the framed photo on the mantel before shifting back to Bucky.

"I love your place, Buck," Steve murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A shy smile spread across Bucky's face as he reached out for Steve's hand, tugging him towards the couch. Steve went willingly, his gaze dropping to meet Bucky's, their fingers intertwining in a silent understanding. Slowly, Steve's hand moved from Bucky's grip to gently cup his jaw, his thumb caressing the plump bottom lip of the brunette. Without hesitation, Bucky pushed Steve down onto the couch and straddled his lap, seeking permission with uncertain eyes.

"Is this okay?" Bucky asked, unsure of himself.

"It's more than okay," Steve rasped, his hands finding their way to Bucky's waist.

Bucky hummed with delight, his hands gently tracing Steve's chest's defined muscles. He leaned in, pressing his lips against Steve's as their bodies moved in perfect sync. Slowly, Steve's tongue slipped into Bucky's mouth, and a wave of desire washed over the brunette, causing him to melt into Steve's embrace. The kiss was passionate and intense, igniting every nerve in their bodies as they lost themselves in each other's touch.

The heated press of their bodies against each other sent a tingling shiver down Bucky's spine, causing him to roll his hips instinctively. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the impressive bulge of Steve's clothed erection against his bottom. The sensation was both exhilarating and overwhelming, sending a rush of desire coursing through Bucky's veins.

Steve's heart raced as their kiss deepened. The intoxicating chemistry between them was undeniable, and he was grateful for the opportunity to be with Bucky in this way. Bucky's hands continued to roam over Steve's body, drawing attention to the way they felt connected - their fingers intertwined, their hearts racing in unison.

Steve pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping Bucky's face in his hands. He looked into those deep blue eyes filled with raw emotion, and he knew that this was a moment he'd never forget.

"Bucky," he whispered, his heart pounding against his chest. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

Bucky's gaze mirrored his own, reflecting both his admiration and the fire that now burned within him. "I want you too," Bucky whispered, the words barely audible as he leaned in to kiss Steve once more.

Suddenly, Steve stood up, lifting Bucky effortlessly with him. Bucky let out a surprised squeak, his cheeks flushing a deep red, caught between embarrassment and arousal. The display of Steve's strength sent a shiver down his spine, intensifying his desire.

Steve's arms held him securely, their eyes locking for a brief, electric moment. "You okay?" Steve asked, his voice low and husky, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Bucky bit his lip, nodding as he wrapped his legs tighter around Steve's waist. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice shaky with excitement. "More than okay."

Steve chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through Bucky. Their lips met again in a passionate kiss, the world outside disappearing as they surrendered to the heat between them. Bucky's fingers curled into the other man's thick blonde hair. The kiss was intense, their shared desire palpable in how their bodies pressed together.

"Bedroom?" Steve mumbled against Bucky's lips, his breath hot and urgent.

Bucky nipped at Steve's bottom lip, causing a low groan to escape from Steve. "Down the hall, second door on the left," he replied, quickly moving his lips to Steve's neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

Steve navigated through the apartment, Bucky's directions clear in his mind despite the haze of desire clouding his thoughts. He carried Bucky with ease, feeling the solid strength of Bucky's body against his own. Each kiss and touch sent shivers down his spine, urging him forward.

When they reached the bedroom, Steve pushed the door open with his shoulder, never breaking contact with Bucky. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow creating an intimate atmosphere.

Steve laid Bucky gently on the bed, his large hands roaming over Bucky's body, feeling the soft muscles beneath his shirt. Bucky's hands were equally busy, tugging at Steve's clothes, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. Their movements were hurried but careful, each action fueled by passion yet tempered with the thrill of newness.

"Off," Bucky whined, tugging at Steve's shirt buttons with impatient fingers. God, Steve, get this off," he groaned, his voice filled with frustration and desire.

Steve chuckled deeply, a sound that sent a thrill through Bucky. "Alright, alright," he rasped, his voice thick with amusement and arousal. Pulling himself up to his knees and hovering over Bucky, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it off, and tossed it aside.

Bucky's eyes roamed hungrily over Steve's chest, taking in the defined muscles and the faint scars that marked his skin. "Sweet baby Jesus," Bucky whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to touch Steve, his fingers tracing the lines of his torso with reverence.

Steve's breath hitched at the contact, his skin tingling under Bucky's touch. He leaned down, capturing Bucky's lips in a searing kiss, their bodies pressing with newfound urgency. Bucky's hands moved to Steve's back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

As their kiss deepened, Steve's hands explored Bucky's body, pulling at his clothes until they, too, were discarded, leaving them both in their boxers. The heat between them grew, their desire a palpable force in the room. Every touch and kiss spoke of their longing and the connection they had found in each other.

As Steve pulled away from the kiss, his face flushed with desire, he looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was a burning intensity that mirrored his own. Encouraged, Steve slowly started running his fingers over the tense muscles beneath the miles of olive skin. Bucky's breath hitched as Steve's touch sent shivers down his spine.

Bucky arched his back to allow Steve better access to his chest, their eyes locked in a silent plea for understanding. Steve's fingers traced the curve of Bucky's pectoral muscle, his mouth following suit as he kissed along the soft, defined ridges. Bucky moaned softly, his head falling back in pleasure.

Steve's lips traveled lower, teasing the trail of hair that led to Bucky's stomach. The brunette's gaze never left his lover's face. Bucky shivered at the sensation, his breathing growing more ragged with each touch. When Steve reached the waistband of Bucky's boxers, he looked up, hesitating for a moment before reaching into his boxers.

Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as Steve's fingers slid inside, his breath catching in his throat. Steve's fingers wrapped around Bucky's erection, gently stroking him. Bucky gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the pleasure washing over him. Steve's lips curved into an absolutely murky smile as he watched Bucky's reaction.

"So responsive," Steve rumbled.

With a deliberate, intimate movement, Steve tugged the waistband of Bucky's underwear down, revealing his hardened length. Bucky's breath hitched as the cool apartment air brushed against his sensitive skin. Steve hummed, pleased, taking in the sight before him.

Steve traced the line of Bucky's hip bone with his finger, eliciting a soft moan from his lover.

"You're stunning, baby," Steve breathed, his voice rough with desire.

Bucky blinked, momentarily stunned by the words of praise. He looked down at Bucky, their eyes locking once more.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky reached down and removed his underwear completely, revealing himself to Steve, his body trembling with anticipation.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are," Steve murmured, his voice thick with lust.

As Bucky watched Steve's eyes devour him, he felt a surge of desire coursing through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest as he even began to crave more.

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Bucky's inner thigh, sending a shiver down his spine. Bucky let out a soft moan, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the pleasure.

Stevey's lips continued to trail upward, finally settling on Bucky's erection, which twitched in response to the gentle touch. Bucky's breath hitched as he felt Steve's warm breath wash over him, the sensation both erotic and intimate.

As Steve's mouth closed around him, Bucky's hands reflexively clenched in the cool devout, his back arching off the mattress as a deep, visceral moan escaped his lips. Steve's skilled tongue worked its magic, sending his body into overdrive as he sucked and licked, driving Bucky to the brink of madness.

Every nerve ending in Bucky's body seemed to be alight, allowing Steve to stoke the flames higher with each passing moment. Bucky's hips bucked, his body responding to Steve's ministrations with an intensity he never knew possible. His mind was a haze of pleasure, his body wracked with the most intense sensations he'd ever felt.

Steve popped off his cock with a lewd pop; he gently nudged Bucky's thighs to part further. He nuzzled Bucky's heavy sack on his further south.

"Steve.....oh...oooohhhh," Bucky gasped, feeling the blonde's tongue over his puckered hole.

Steve hummed, "Taste so good," he rasped, licking at Bucky's hole again.

Bucky's heart raced as Steve's tongue worked its way around his most sensitive area, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. He gasped and moaned, feeling alive and free in ways he never thought possible. For the next ten minutes, Steve explored every inch of Bucky's hole with a combination of licking, sucking, and teasing touches. It was like heaven and hell mixed together in a delicious frenzy. As Bucky surrendered to the intense sensations, he couldn't help but think that Mila would probably inscribe on his headstone that he was rimmed to death by a Greek god.

"Fuck," Bucky gasped when Steve finally pulled away from in now relaxed hole. He blindly reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube, shoving it toward Steve.

Steve chuckled softly, his hand deftly squeezing a dollop of slick lube onto his fingers. He traced them teasingly up and down the curve of Bucky's backside, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. With expert precision, he gently pressed his ring finger against Bucky's tight entrance, watching in awe as it slowly opened up to welcome him inside. The sensation was like sinking into warm velvet, inviting and intoxicating all at once.

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the pleasure coursed through him. He was already so relaxed, thanks to Steve's skilled tongue working him over. Every nerve ending in his body felt alive and on fire.

"You're so tight," Steve murmured, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I can't wait to be inside you." Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as Steve slowly worked a second finger into him, stretching him further. He moaned at the sensation, his body begging for more.

Steve continued to work his fingers in and out of Bucky's asshole with a rhythm designed to drive him wild, adding a third finger when he was confident that Bucky was ready. Bucky whimpered, his body writhing with pleasure as Steve stretched him even further.

"You ready for me, Buck?" Steve asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

Bucky nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation.

With a smug smirk, Steve pushed himself up onto his knees and discarded his boxer briefs to the side. His thick, curved cock was proudly on display, nestled in a thatch of neatly dark-trimmed hair. Bucky's eyes widened as he stared at it with desire and anticipation.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle at Bucky's reaction. "Oh, fuck me," Bucky mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away from Steve's impressive member.

"That's the plan," Steve replied with a playful grin, fully aware of the effect he was having on Bucky. The room was filled with the scent of arousal and the sound of their heavy breathing as they both anticipated what was about to happen.

Bucky reached down and guided Steve's cock to his entrance, feeling the fat head nudge at his sensitive opening. He gasped as Steve slowly pushed in, the fat head of his cock pushing against Bucky's hole, his girth stretching Bucky in ways he never thought possible. It was like being swallowed whole by a tempest of pure pleasure. Bucky's body trembled at the sensation, his heart rate increasing with every inch that Steve thrust inside him.

Steve's breath was ragged as he continued to push deeper, his fingers gripping Bucky's hips tightly. Bucky moaned softly, his own excitement growing with each passing moment.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Steve groaned, thrusting deeper into Bucky with each stroke. "Squeezing me so tight."

Bucky moaned, his body arching to meet Steve's thrusts. The sensation of being filled by Steve's thick hard cock was more intense than anything he'd ever experienced, and he couldn't get enough of it.

As Steve's hips pistoned between Bucky's legs, the room filled with the sound of their bodies slapping together, their breaths turning to ragged gasps and moans. His thick cock dragged along Bucky's deliciously wet and silky walls, rubbing against his prostate.

Steve's thrusts grew more forceful, his hips slapping against Bucky's ass with each powerful stroke. Bucky's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the pleasure building within him as Steve's cock rubbed against his prostate,sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Steve......Steve...." Bucky chanted as he teetered on the edge.

But Steve was not ready to let go quite yet. He paused, his cock buried deep within Bucky and reached a hand between their bodies. He found Bucky's erect cock and began to stroke it with steady, sure movements.

Bucky let out a low moan, his hips bucking against Steve's hand as the sensations grew more intense. Steve's other hand gripped Bucky's hip, pulling him closer with each stroke.

"You feel so good," Steve panted, his breath hot against Bucky's ear. "I want to feel you come around me."

Bucky's body trembled, the pleasure building to a crescendo within him. He could feel the intensity growing, the pressure mounting, and he knew that it wouldn't be long now.

Steve continued to stroke Bucky's cock, his movements slow and deliberate. As he did so, he began to thrust deeper within Bucky, his hips swiveling and grinding against him, sending shivers of pleasure through every inch of Bucky's body.

Bucky cried out, his body writhing in pleasure. Steve's cock continued to rub against his prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Bucky's body.

Steve's thrusts grew more powerful with each passing moment, his cock dragging along Bucky's deliciously wet and silky walls. Bucky moaned loudly, his body trembling with each powerful thrust. The pleasure built up inside him, reaching a crescendo as Steve's cock continued to massage his prostate.

Arching his back beautifully, Bucky moans, "Steve—nnghh—fuck!"

"Oh fuck, baby—Bucky," Steve groaned, his thrusts growing frenzied as his climax drew nearer.

Bucky's heart raced, his body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure Steve was giving him. He reached back and grabbed onto Steve's hips, urging him deeper, harder.

"Oh, fuck Steve, I'm so close, don't stop," Bucky panted, his body arching with each powerful thrust.

Bucky could feel the orgasm building, his body tensing and his breaths growing shallow. The pleasure was overwhelming, and he knew that he was close. With every thrust, Steve's cock pushed against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

Steve's breathing became ragged as he continued to stroke Bucky's cock and plunge deep into his body.

Steve's eyes locked with Bucky's, his expression a mix of lust and adoration. He pulled out, leaving Bucky's wet entrance exposed. With one final, powerful thrust, Steve's cock buried itself deep within Bucky, the head of his cock rubbing against the highly sensitive spot inside Bucky. The sensation was too much for Bucky to bear, and he cried out in pleasure as he felt his orgasm take hold of him.

"Yes!" Bucky cried out, his entire body shaking as he came harder than he ever thought possible. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his orgasm seeming to go on and on. Thick ropes of milky white come erupted from his straining, pulsing, flushed cock, coating Steve's hand, his own stomach, and chest.

Steve continued to thrust inside Bucky as he came, his own pleasure building to a peak. The sight of Bucky's cum-covered body, the sound of their heavy breaths, and the slickness of their skin slapping together was almost more than Steve could bear.

Bucky felt Steve's hips bucking wildly against his, and he knew that his lover was about to join him in climax. With a grunt, Steve thrust deep inside Bucky one last time, and the sensation of Bucky's tight, hot walls milking his cock was more than Steve could bear.

He released Bucky's cock from his grip, and with one final, powerful thrust, Steve's cock erupted, filling Bucky's body with his own release. His orgasm hit him like a tornado, and he cried out Bucky's name as his cock spasmed inside him, releasing streams of his seed deep inside Bucky's body. The sensation of Steve's hot cum filling him made Bucky's orgasm even more intense, and he vibrated with pleasure, his body arching into Steve's.

As the last of their orgasms subsided, Steve slowly pulled out of Bucky, their bodies sticky and sated from the passion they'd just shared. They lay on the bed, panting, their bodies still joined in a post-coital embrace.

Steve leaned up on one elbow and brushed the sweaty hair from Bucky's forehead, smiling softly as he took in the sight of the man beneath him. "That was incredible," he whispered.

Bucky returned the smile, his eyes filled with satisfaction and happiness. "Yeah," he agreed, "it was."

As the two lay there, their breathing began to slow, and their bodies cooled. Bucky couldn't help but wonder if this was real. He had always been wary of emotions, afraid of them even, but there was something about Steve that made everything feel right.

Steve traced his fingers along Bucky's cheek, his touch gentle and tender. "I'm really glad I agreed to do that photo shoot," he said softly.

Bucky smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at Steve's words. "Me too," he replied, his tone equally gentle. He closed his eyes, basking in the glow of the moment, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't known in a long time.

Suddenly, Bucky started to chuckle, the sound low and rich.

"What?" Steve asked, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

Bucky rolled onto his side and buried his face in Steve's chest, his laughter muffled. "Mila is going to be unbearable after she finds out about this," he said, his voice filled with amusement.

"If she finds out," Steve pointed out, though his tone suggested he knew it was inevitable.

Bucky looked up at the blonde, raising an eyebrow. "If?" he repeated skeptically.

Steve sighed, his smile widening. "You're right, she probably already knows."

Bucky laughed again, shaking his head. "She's got a sixth sense for these things. I bet she's already planning how to tease us both."

Steve pulled Bucky closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly. "Let her. I don't mind," he said, pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. "As long as I have you."

Bucky's heart swelled with affection, and he nuzzled closer, feeling the steady beat of Steve's heart against his cheek. "You've got me, Steve," he whispered. "For as long as you want."

Steve's arms tightened around Bucky, and they lay there in a comfortable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

[wooteena]

oh my god i just realized it's been literally years since you've been active. how the hell are you?? :O

helaurr anon omg lets do like a wooteena roundup ❕

still 16 (going on 17) (actually 33 /ref)

still australian (might change if plans go well because CRINGE TW:)

still dating the tumblr boyfriend. remember when i e-begged for a date 3 years ago? snagged dutch fanartist @onlygayminecraftstuff ? still going strong babes. froot for life i tell you.

hopefully going to- 🫣 to🫣 meet up🫣 sometime soon🫣🫣 face reveal for the meetcute when it happens promise

thatll happen once highschool slows down or finishes though. im a 'senior' so to speak ! year/grade 11 or 12, you guess ^_^

graduation might be late or happen differently because im💚 still disabled! trying to fix that too, sorry about the canon disability rep erasure guys my bad /sar

on the srs though? im winning. thriving, even. as much as tumblr was (and is, considering that i check in every 6months 😭) a space that i couldnt have lived without, there is definitely smth unfort to be said that this was the only place i could socialize because of how little capacity for anything i had from ages 12-14 because of chronic pain. being able to say that im full time at school and are finally, fully 'in' that rl friend group and show them the weird shit that happens on tumblr is probably the best, and most unbelievable thing i could tell chronically online, preteen wooteena.

i will never ever stop returning and reminiscing on this stupid minecraft blog is because i got to be an annoying kid with (mostly!) no repercussion and socialised during probably formative years while i was hurting. tumblr gets to be the place for the disabled, queer, and weird, always.

tldr wooteena cringefailed all over the screen about how tumblr saved their life probably. i love the blr because it loved me

get dogged on

[roach-works]

hey so I've read After The Storm (... repeatedly) and the Midnight Chicken one, but the next two seemed kinda like PWP one-shots and the porny bits are the ones I was least interested in in AtS so I skipped them (and completely missed the third which seems a bit more plot-like?). Only now I really want to know how Rich got to New York and what he's doing there etc. (I guess that is on me for buying from the erotica section, but it was SUCH good hurt/comfort heavy on the comfort and post-traumatic development and juicy future setting...)

So I guess my real question here is: what's the porn:plot (in the loosest sense which includes fluff and parties and character development and world building stuff) ratio in all of these? Should I get them for the plot or would I end up skimming most of them...?

my co-writers should probably chime in on this one but in my opinion:

-learning the ropes: rich learns more about boundaries and limitations. almost entirely sex scenes with a few pauses for negotiations. like 90% sex.

-the art of boytoy maintenance: a look at rich's near-future recovery and a cozy domestic fic during storm docking. almost entirely sex scenes with breaks for recovery and cuddling, 80% sex.

-cross my heart: mitch gets in on the action. mostly sex scenes with breaks for negotiations and heartfelt confessions and so on. 80% sex.

-a taste of new york: a meetcute fic with very frequent sex scenes, interspersed with tourism, meal breaks, some entertainment and misadventures. 60-70% sex.

the sex in this series isn't ever pwp: we do our best to make it a central, crucial part of the story. it's pretty vital for the development of everyone's feelings and characters, though in the first novel you can skim it and you definitely don't HAVE to read the novellas. but still, this is a romance/erotica series, and the novellas (minus the kiddie adventure one) are extremely steamy by design, and employ sex as the main driver of action and progress.

if you don't care for the sex scenes in after the storm that's perfectly fine and im glad the story stands just fine without them! but most of the novellas aren't likely to be to your tastes. the new york fic is the most likely one to have any story left after you skim all the smut, but i genuinely can't guarantee it would be worth it.

the upcoming mega-sized novels we're working on will have much more non-sex story per story, tho! but you're going to have to be patient because they're like more than 200k each and that takes so much editing.

we also have a few more novellas in the works and in planning, one of which is a road trip with katrina and selkies! that one's likely to be gen. ditto the one with a pair of detroit cult escapees, and there might be another young thena story too. all of these are a long way from publishing tho, and we get stuff done in a pretty random order, so. look forward to those! but very, very far forwards. orz

[simonlynch]

janAUary #1 - record store

ship: dewmav

word count: 1144

summary: maverick pops into dewey's shop to look around. he hopes that he catches their eye instead.

(dew works canonically at a record shop, so why not change up the meetcute -- what if they met at his workplace instead of theirs?)

He notices them when they walk in, but it's not until they're flicking through the 'New Releases' cart just adjacent to him that he truly notices them.

He can't help it, not when their clothes drape so perfectly over their shoulder, which quickly is exposed by the sweater they're wearing and showcases the mass of freckles that pattern their skin there. Or the way the light hits the top of their head just enough that the bluish hue they've tinted their hair shines deeply in contrast with the brighter tones of their outfit. It didn't help he caught the way their stockings were awfully tight as they scooted down the line of albums.

He's seen them before, many times actually. A frequent visitor, but normally only in the very early parts of the day -- the times where he's only barely half-awake, wandering in fifteen minutes late to his shift anyways, and they're too busy with their head buried in the tracklist of whatever album they'd just bought to pay any semblance of attention as they slink past him holding the door open for them.

He decides that maybe he's looking at them now because he expects a ‘thank you.’ Even if they'd never noticed him before. 

And it's not until their gaze slowly rises, head still bowed towards the bin of vinyls that he realizes he's staring.

“Uh. Hi.”

It's when they stand back up, sightline flicking around the shop only to realize how clientele-barren and open it was, that they respond.

“...Hi?”

His head is propped on his hand, leaning over the counter lazily, the other brushing through his hair before rejoining its partner on the glass casing that holds the more valuable records in the store.

“Looking for something specific?”

They shake their head, turning away slightly “Ah, no, not really.”

Dewey raises his voice slightly, craning his neck as he leans just a bit more forward, “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll…Be here.”

They don't respond to him, and in an awkward motion, he turns around, bending down and pretending to inspect the bulk of crates and boxes stored behind the counter. He tries to be anywhere, look anywhere that isn't at them. He wanders from behind the register, slipping down any aisle they're not.

When they say something from the other side of the shelving, he suddenly reappears rather quickly from his makeshift hiding place, popping his head around the corner.

“Huh?”

“Oh, sorry. Just talking to myself.”

“Right. Yeah, okay,” he nods, but continues to peek past the thin barrier between them.

They sigh, “I guess a second opinion isn't the worst thing ever though, if you have one.”

“Dewey Finn, music connoisseur at your service, dear loyal customer.”

“Maverick will do, thanks,” they smile as he approaches. 

He bows, making a show of the whole scene before he takes a look at the two albums they've pulled.

“What's on your mind?”

“Been trying to get into some older stuff lately. But I’m not quite sure where to start.”

Dewey nods towards the gray-stained cover of Who's Next. 

“No question on that one. Their best album, for sure. You into rock at all?”

“Newer stuff, heavy stuff mostly. I, uh -- I’m in a band, they want me to,” they pause, throwing up air quotes, “Broaden my horizons, or something. Like I don't know most of the classics already.”

“No shit, you play?”

“I mean, for fun. We don't really…Perform a lot.”

“That's fuckin’ awesome, though. I play too,” they share a moment of solidarity, and a smile before Maverick cuts it short, tucking the vinyl under their arm and putting the other back.

“We could…Maybe hang out sometime. For a jam sesh, or something.”

“Maybe,” Mav turns away shyly. They scurry towards the counter, Dewey rushing back just behind them, a little discouraged from the hesitant quasi-rejection.

Their gaze passes him as he rings them out, taking his time as he still tries to make pleasant conversation. They quickly cut him off, reaching out and grabbing at his wrist, in effect stopping him. He looks over at them, baffled, but somehow not upset that their hand was still on him. They gasp. 

“Is that the special edition of White Pony?”

He glances back, to the small pile of things lining the hanging shelf behind him, “Uh, yeah.”

Their expression immediately lights up, “You're lying! I -- I've been looking for it for ages!”

“Well,” he scratches at the back of his neck, pulling at the hair there. He doesn't have the heart to tell them it's behind the counter because it's on hold for someone else, “It's um…That's it.”

“How much?”

He shrugs, knowing damn well they won't accept no for an answer, “Dunno if it's up for sale yet --”

Their voice drops low, “I’ll do anything.”

His head snaps back. He swallows the nervous chuckle creeping up his throat and sees the way their expression falls serious.

He looks behind him again. It's definitely his ass if his manager finds out. But…

“Like, maybe even a date?”

Maverick seems confused, at first. Not quite what they'd expected. However, as they look him over again, the lopsided smile he wears, the disheveled outfit, the wild hair, it’s almost endearing. Kind of cute, even.

“Maybe even a date.”

“You're serious?” he tilts his head. He didn't actually expect them to agree -- nor was he going to admit that he probably would have sold the thing to them either way. 

But hey, he shot his shot, and he didn't miss, for once.

They stop, think, then fail to cover the giggle that overtakes them, “Sure. Why not?”

When he turns around to grab the vinyl, he pauses, pretends to be rearranging the rest of the shelf for balance, tries to hide the way he's smiling and can't stop. To be fair, he's also trying desperately to think of what to say now; He didn't expect to get this far. The beep of the register draws him back as he finishes cashing them out. When they take the bag from him, their fingers brush his. They lean just a bit closer to him.

“For the record, I would have said yes even if the vinyl wasn't at stake.”

He laughs nervously, a little louder than he should have if he wanted to seem calm, probably. “For the record. Like, because --” he gestures vaguely to the album, and when he realizes it wasn't an intentional pun, he bites his tongue and forces a smile, “Yeah. Okay, well, I'll pick you up at seven, then. If that's cool.”

They turn just before they reach the door, “I'll see you then, Dewey. Don't be late.”

“I'm never late,” he shrugs. 

“Sure you are. Every day I see you, you're late.”

And with that, they leave. He watches them walk down the block, disappearing shortly into the lunch-hour crowd.

“...So you did notice me.”

[taintedcigs]

labyrinth sounds super sweet 🥹 do you per chance have a snippet you might be willing to share with a poor commoner such as myself? 🙏🏼

oh you sweet lil angel OF COUUUURSE!! i actually was gonna make that a little mini-series buuuut i have decided to make it a oneshot (probably a very long one, wooops), i still don't know what direction it will take but it has a stupid meetcute ? i keep gushing abt <33

it's basically steve being fully pessimistic abt love, after many failed dates robin tried to set him up on. and JUST when he thinks he lost all hope, you swarm into family video, making a little offer steve can't refuse <3

its still a very VERY rough draft but snippet under the cut that might be a teeny tiny long <3

Robin, leaning against the counter with an air of annoyance, “Already turning into a miserable old man I see?” She quipped, a playful glint sparkling in her bold icy gaze.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve chose to ignore her jests, fingertips grazing against the tape in his hand before he pushed it next to the others. “Anyway, I’m just saying I don’t want to do this whole love bullshit anymore, so, I can and will shut myself off,” he grumbled.

Miserable old man. Robin thought to herself. “Whatever you say,” she mumbled, conceding to his stubbornness.

“But,” She leaned further onto the counter with a sheepish smile, “you never know when true love is gonna find you!” Her attempt to inject a bit of optimism into Steve's newly cynical outlook fell deaf on his ears.

A bitter huff escaped from those otherwise sweet lips. “If it comes looking for me I’ll be here fixing the damn horror section, thanks to those idiotic kids!”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disapproval before she went back down to counting the stocks, scribbling down some nonsense to avoid Steve. 

“I swear if I ever see those little fuckers again—” Steve’s little rambling to himself was interrupted by you. Like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through his gloomy clouds.

“Hi! Sorry for bothering but—” Such a soothing voice usually would've made him melt. But, with such bitterness filling his body, it only made Steve snap.

“What?” He asked, rather rudely, body jerking back with the annoyance of dealing with another customer. That was until he faced you, regret filling his skin faster than the caffeine still swimming in his veins. 

“Oh—uh, sorry, didn’t mean to—” You muttered, startled by his semi-rudeness, yet once he saw you his demeanor, that stupid ice wall melted quicker than he built it up. 

“No, shit, I’m sorry, I mean not shit— fuck, ah.” He rambled, embarrassed, a salmon pink color rushing to his cheeks, almost knocking over the trolley he was standing next to. 

Thankfully, you let out a sweet giggle, saccharine, charming. “Don’t worry, I totally get that, the whole anger and cussing thing.”

“No, no, I swear I’m not like an angry person—” He tried to reassure, and you were quick to give him another smile, one he felt he didn't deserve. 

“I get it. Customers aren’t always right, you know?” You gave him an understanding shrug, almost comforting him, and Steve felt that giddiness again, the one he thought he had fully lost. 

He really was pathetic. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. 

“I just started working in that coffee shop down the street, and shit, indeed. These people can be mean,” you further related, and Steve couldn't help but get a better look at you—chocolate gaze getting caught onto the crescent moon necklace clasped around your neck, Levi’s jeans hugging your curves in the best way, and a graphic tee to pair it with. Effortlessly stunning.

Still out of breath, and attempting to seem collected, Steve managed to ask, “Merrill's?” 

The worst coffee in town. The only coffee shop in Hawkins. Toilet water quality type of coffee, and always the stalest pastries. But, shit, if you were there, Steve was more than willing to chug a gallon of their coffee. 

[birgittesilverbae]

wait, you can’t say dads!mary/shannon meetcute and then not give us the meetcute. inquiring minds would like to know!!

"Are you Mary?" 

Mary scrubs a hand across her brow, wiping away beads of sweat, and stands tall from where she'd been waist deep in an engine compartment. "That's me. What can I do you for?"

There's a low whistle and Mary pauses for a moment, deciding whether or not to preen. She knows she looks good, her back and arms wiry with muscle from years of wrestling with cars, but some asshole hitting on her at seven in the morning is that absolute last thing she needs. 

She turns, then, with a sigh. "What do you want?"

The girl isn't even looking at her, and Mary re-evaluates the whole encounter. She's got her face buried in her phone, eyebrows pinched tight together, a look of concern readily apparent on her face.

"Hello? Anybody in there?"

The girl jumps, flushes bright red to her hairline. "Sorry, sorry, just got a text from my– my sister. Yeah. My sister. You're Mary, yeah?"

"Who's asking?"

She sticks out her hand and Mary takes it. The handshake is firmer than she'd expected, the girl's forearms corded with as much muscle as Mary's. "Shannon. The guy at the front desk really sang your praises about your skill with jeeps."

"Did he, now?"

"Said you're the best he's ever seen with them."

"He's not wrong," she admits, leaning back against the truck's bumper. "Though I haven't worked on any in a few months. You bring one in for me to look at?"

Shannon's smile is blindingly bright. "Well, here's the thing…"

//

"Want some more water?"

Mary shades her eyes with her hand and squints up at Shannon. "Do I want some more water," she echoes.

"Yeah." Shannon shakes her water bottle in demonstration, her tank top gapping open with the movement, revealing flashes of hard abs. Mary tears her eyes away, forces her gaze back to Shannon's face. "Hydration is paramount."

Mary grabs for a pebble and flings it at her. "Remind me again why I agreed to let you drag me out into the middle of nowhere?"

"Because it's your job?" 

"I'm a mechanic, not a backcountry hiker."

"Well, today you're whatever I pay you to be," Shannon snaps back, eyes flashing angrily. She jerks her head towards the trail. "It's only a kilometre or two further."

Mary pushes herself to her feet with a groan and shoves Shannon's shoulder as she passes, swiping the water bottle from her hand on her way. "Better get moving, then."

//

The jeep's halfway down a gully, still in the shade of the cliff wall. Mary eyes it as they clamber down towards it. An older model, beaten up but quite clearly lovingly repaired. An enthusiast's jeep, not just a weekend warrior's. She eyes Shannon with renewed interest, but Shannon's gaze is elsewhere. 

"Lilith?"

Mary startles once at the volume of Shannon's yell, a second time when a head pops up in the rear of the jeep.

"Back here, Shan," the kid calls. She's sixteen, maybe seventeen, and she eyes Mary with deep-seated distrust. 

"Settle, Lilith, she's here to help. Where's Bea?"

Mary jumps a third time when a hand is raised beside Lilith and waves awkwardly.

"'m here, Shan." It's another young voice, high-pitched and reedy. Lilith catches the waving hand and kneels back out of sight. 

"My sisters," Shannon says, as though that explains anything at all given how little alike she and Lilith look. She nods towards the hood of the jeep. "I think it might be something with the radiator, but I'm not sure."

"What–"

Shannon shakes her head, tugs on her backpack strap. "Keys should be in the ignition. I need to–" She gestures awkwardly towards the rear of the vehicle, and Mary nods her assent. At least the presence of two teenagers likely decreases the chance she's going to end up murdered, right? 

//

"You were right about it being the radiator," Mary says, poking her head into the back of the jeep.

"Huh?" Shannon's head snaps around towards her from where she's kneeling beside a prone teenager. Lilith's got the girl – Bea? – Bea's head in her lap, and Shannon's rucked her shirt up to reveal her stomach. There's a massive bruise spanning her side, centred on imprints of waist and chest seatbelts. Shannon strokes Bea's cheek and nods to Lilith. "I've just gotta–"

"Go wheel," Bea says, her voice hazy. Lilith snorts out a laugh, and when Shannon jumps down from the back of the jeep her face is bright red. 

"Wheel?" Mary asks, but Shannon shakes her head. 

"Ignore her, she's a bit out of it. You said it was the radiator?"

"Leak in the coolant hose. I patched it with duct tape. Should be enough to get it back to the shop to replace the hose." Mary glances down the gully. "Not to judge or anything, but did you really go off-roading without knowing that emergency fix?"

Shannon's face manages to turn even more red, if that's possible. "No, I know that," she says, pulling off her ballcap and running a hand through her hair. "I just– I wasn't thinking clearly." She gestures towards the rear of the jeep. "I think of Lilith as more capable than she actually is sometimes and I let her drive because she's got her learner's permit so it's fine, right, only obviously it wouldn't be but I get carried away with them sometimes because they're just, like, so adult about so many things and–"

"Hey," Mary says, laying a hand on Shannon's forearm, "hey, breathe."

Shannon presses a hand to her chest and breathes deeply, once, twice, a third time. "I'm sorry I jumped down your throat on the way up," she says, her voice ragged. "I really appreciate you coming out here."

"Well, my thought process was 'if I die, I die, and I'm bored anyways'," Mary admits, shoving her hands in her pockets and shrugging. 

Shannon peers up at her. "Oh, God, this was a really strange request, wasn't it. I didn't think that through at all. Oh, fuck me."

"Well, yeah, the five klick hike back to town when you absolutely have cell service out here kinda clued me in to that." Mary chuckles at the stricken look on Shannon's face. "It happens, alright? Your sister got hurt, it's normal to panic about that. But I've patched the hose and topped up the coolant to replace the leakage and we're gonna get her to the hospital to get her ribs looked at and then you're gonna pay me more than it's worth to replace the hose."

"And you're gonna get her phone number," Bea's slurred voice calls from the back of the jeep. 

Shannon turns scarlet, and Mary cocks an eyebrow, unable to tamp down a smug grin. "Is that so?"

"And take her on a date," Bea adds, almost as an afterthought.

Shannon buries her face in her hands and sighs.