#but i don't really see a problem with the red. it's fine to me. weird

[cepheusgalaxy]

ughhhhhhhhhhh why am i so prone to complaining

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Forget the coliseums Elden Ring needs to patch in a room at the roundtable specifically for taking screenshots of your character with decent lighting that doesn't weirdly obscure face details

[wheucto]

its annoying when my pictures won't load in my files

[hedgehog-moss]

Look, friends.

Do you think this is a post about my adorable baby succulents? No. Look harder.

It's about the GIANT HOLE IN MY FENCE that I had to patch up with cardboard.

I can't blame Pampérigouste for this one; the brutish nature of the damage is not consistent with her usual modus operandi. Pampe outsmarts locks like Arsène Lupin; she doesn't charge at fences like a bull who saw a red cloth. This is Pampe Pondering A Fence Problem:

No, the damage to my fence looked a lot more mindless this time. Boorish. Boar-ish. I'm blaming a boar. A deer would have destroyed the whole thing rather than just the lower half. Note that there is not a single tuft of llama wool on the damaged wire mesh.

(Note no.2: the boar's smile was originally meant to be a tusk but it really just looks like a sardonic smile)

I brought some chicken wire to patch up the hole—but there wasn't enough of it. Then it started raining and I felt persecuted and decided to just cover the hole with cardboard and go have my morning coffee and get back to this later.

This is not an Innocent Pampe post; there is no such thing. My temporary cardboard solution lasted 8 to 10 minutes. I'm not sure exactly when she got out, but by the time I went back outside to repair the fence there was a Pampe-shaped hole in the cardboard.

(Not really; she just kind of lifted or ate a corner then wormed her way through the very small opening. I think.) (See, this is how you recognise a Pampe escape: you're not entirely clear on what went down, you just know there was a llama inside and now there is a llama outside.)

It was still raining and I didn't feel like going after her, plus it felt pointless to bring her back in her pasture before the fence was repaired, so I went in the barn to look for my tools and rummage through leftover pieces of previously-destroyed fences, hoping to find something the right size.

Then I heard Pampelune's hyena shriek, aka the llama alarm call. It was followed by:

horrified chicken screams and frantic feather noises; the soundtrack of a violent fox attack

infuriated barking from Pandolf

very loud panicked braying from Pirlouit

basically, chaos.

I ran outside just in time to see Pampe emerging from the woods at a full gallop, pursued by a bear. I didn't immediately identify the animal that was chasing her as the giant dog that he was, because he was running with a weird gait, with his legs going everywhere like he was frolicking at top speed (I now know that this dog is a puppy that has learnt to run just a few months ago, but that didn't occur to me at the time because this puppy is the size of a calf.)

Pampe was running towards the cardboard through which she had escaped and she managed to squeeze through her small corner hole again (I assume—there were trees blocking my line of sight and I only saw her again once she was in the pasture, running for her life along with the other 2 llamas + donkey.) Meanwhile, the dog didn't see the corner hole and tried to power through the cardboard much like a boar, or was carried away by his momentum and didn't brake in time; I don't know. In any case, when I reached him, he was stuck.

My large piece of cardboard was tied to the fence posts and still holding strong, but the middle was a bit soggy with rain and not too solid, so the dog's head went right through it. The rest of his body didn't.

He could have probably finished breaking the cardboard quite easily, but for some reason he instantly gave up. On life. By the time I got there the dog was half-in and half-out of the pasture and he looked defeated. Which made my piece of cardboard look like a mediaeval beheading apparatus with just a hole for the head.

I went to lock an angry Pandolf in the barn and checked on the chickens along the way (ruffled & offended but fine); I was hoping the dog would figure out how to extricate his head from the cardboard in the meantime. He did not. I tried to call him in a friendly tone (from behind) to encourage him to free his head by stepping back, but the concept of taking a couple of steps backwards in order to extract his head from the hole might as well have been advanced engineering. He clearly had no idea where his head was, where his body was, how to make the two a coherent whole again, and he started whining pitifully.

I untied the rope I had used to attach the cardboard to the fence posts, then wriggled the piece of cardboard a bit to try and free the dog's head. The dog was alarmed by the wriggling and took several steps back—but I didn't manage to hold on to the cardboard so it just moved with the dog. He clumsily ran away, taking the cardboard with him, wearing it around his neck like the world's largest cone of shame.

He immediately got stuck between two trees.

I was starting to find the situation hilarious, but the poor dog did not—he lay down and started making sad broken noises like a malfunctioning dog-robot. He didn't look very threatening but he was still a very big (and stressed) dog so I felt a bit wary of touching his head to help him, and decided to run home to get a box cutter. I figured I could easily rid him of most of the cardboard and leave him with just a soggy cardboard collar that would soon fall apart. I heard my landline phone ringing from afar and ran faster, and it was one of my nearest neighbours, the retired lady who lives on the plateau.

"I've been trying to reach you!! I saw your llama in my garden earlier, I was going to give her a little treat—" (she loves Pampe, for some reason) "—but then my dog saw her too."

I know this woman's dog—he's a tiny thing with fragile nerves who thinks the whole world is out to get him, so I asked anxiously, "Did Pampe scare your dog?" and she said "Oh no! Domino is here with me; but I have a new dog. His name is Texas."

I thought of the gigantic puppy currently sobbing in my woods, held prisoner by two trees, a self-inflicted cone of shame and his total lack of reasoning skills.

"Yes", I said. "I've met Texas."

The old lady asked worriedly if he'd scared Pampe ("Il est un peu zinzin" she said—he's a bit crazy. "I wanted to call him Rex, but then I met him and thought—Texas!!") I told her I was pleased with her dog for scaring Pampe, because she needs to learn that her pasture is her only hope for safety in this cold uncaring world and as soon as she steps out of it she returns to her lowly status as a prey animal. Then I ended the phone call because I was worried both about Texas and about the large hole in my fence. Thankfully all my animals were still terrified and hiding far, far away from Texas.

Texas actually managed to free himself before I attempted to cut the cardboard, but he still thought of me as his saviour and was very happy to follow me through the woods back to his owner's place. Before we left I propped up the cardboard against the damaged fence, and despite the hole in the middle no llamas escaped in my absence; I think the whole area still smelled like Texas and fear.

I'll admit I was initially tempted to leave Texas with his head stuck in the cardboard in a more permanent capacity in order to patch the hole in my fence with this amazing anti-Pampe Cerberus. Like this

(I know this artistic rendering makes my llamas look like frightened carrots and my donkey like a bunny but I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time)

[evie-sturns]

ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: you're spending the weekend at the sturniolos house, you've never had feeling for matt, but this weekend has been different, he just looks too good, the sexual frustration builds up to the point where you just have to get yourself off, but matt walks in on you..

Warnings: swearing, smut, f!masturbation, caught gettin freaky w yourself, fingering, p in v.

-----------------┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛-------------

i'm spending the weekend with my best friends, the sturniolos. i've never had any feelings for them, but this past week matt has been looking.. different. he's recently got more tattoos, his facial hair has grown out slightly, giving him a subtle moustache. matt's been wearing different earrings, longer ones, i've never thought about him this way, it weirds me out, but i can't help myself. i've had no privacy for the past 3 days though, constantly with a triplet. i've wanted to touch myself, but i physically cant.

i open the trash can, throwing in me, matt, nick and chris's empty solo cups, which were filled with rootbeer.

"im so fucking tired what time is it." chris yawns, standing up from the dining table.

"1:30am." nick mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"okay guys, i'm going to bed yeah? gotta be up early for the beach tomorrow" chris says, doing stupid claps with a wide grin on his face.

i scoff, waving him goodbye as he disappears upstairs. nick runs over to me, giving me a quick hug "i'm gonna sleep too, love ya y/n, see you in the morning."

me and matt stand in the kitchen, i lean on the countertop slightly, scrolling on our phones. his face is lit by his screen, highlighting his features. i don't even notice the fact i'm squeezing my thighs together until he looks up at me.

"you okay, mrs. staring problem" he jokes, giving me a smile. my cheeks flush, i uncross my thighs and wipe my face quickly. "sorry." i say, quickly.

"i'm gonna go watch a movie okay? my rooms always open." i say, giving matt a hug.

i get butterflies, why the fuck did i get butterflies?

i feel a heat grow between my legs, i run upstairs, going into the spare room which im staying in for the next few days. i lock the door behind me,

atleast i think i do.

i flop down on the bed, my hand reaches under my waistband, tracing soft circles over my fabric of my panties. "fuck." i whisper before shimmying my shorts and panties down in one motion to my ankles.

im left with my bottom half revealed on the bed, i use one finger to trace my clit in circles. i squirm on the bed, restraining my moans. after a few minutes i plunge two fingers into my hole, pumping in and out.

my mind subconsciously flicks to matt, his tattoos, which crawl up his arms, his hair, his hands, i wonder what they would look like around my neck-

the door opens, my eyes bulge open, me and matt make direct eye contact, i instantly yank up my shorts,

"get out please!" i say, my voice shaking, as i sit up quickly

"oh fuck im so sorry!" he yells slamming the door shut, his face pale.

i fall back on the bed, covering my face with a long groan.

embarrasment.

is the only thing i feel, my heart pounds as i bring my knees to my chest.

after 10 minutes, i hear a quiet knock on the door, i sit up off the bed, walking towards the door and opening it.

im met with matts guilty face, his cheeks are flushed, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

he opens his mouth, nothing comes out execpt for a small noise. he clears his throat "sorry."

"i uh, sorry um, i really shouldve knocked." he says fidgeting with his hand. i stay silent, my cheeks cherry red. "i swear i didn't see much." he assures, i look up at him, raising an eyebrow in a 'really?' way. he stares at me "maybe thats a lie, but i swear ill blank it out of my mind!" he says, his voice frantic.

"its fine matt, i shouldve locked the door okay? lets go watch a movie in your room." i say, giving matt a warm smile. he nods, walking towards his room.

i follow close behind him as he jumps into bed, laying an arms out, i jump in beside him, cuddling close into his side.

my heart beats again, when im nervous words just come out.

"i was thinking about you when i was touching myself." i blurt out, slamming a hand over my mouth. the room goes silent. im frozen in shock.

"what?" he says in confusion.

"not true." i mumble out. my hand glued to my mouth.

matt tenses up under me. "y/n.. you have to tell me right now what your were thinking about.." he says, calmer than expected/

i stay silent.

"y/n." hes cut off by my voice.

"you it was you, i don't know!" i say, my voice trembling from embarrassment.

"what about me?" matt teases, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly

"tattoos, hair, hands" my mouth is moving faster than my brain.

"is that so now?" he says, looking down at me.

i nod quickly, matt sits up on his knees before hovering over me. i look up at him, my eyes submissive.

he smashes his lips into mine, holding the back of my head. "matt" i whine into his mouth. "i know, i know." he says, pulling my shorts down. "can i?" he says, toying with the waistband of my panties.

"please." i beg, lifing my hips up to help him. he leans down and whispers into my hair.

"whats gonna happen is you're gonna ride me, and you arent going to make a single noise, nick and chris are right next door."

i nod, flipping us over, straddling his thighs with my bare lower half.

he pulls down his sweatpants, his large erection springing out. "you ready?" he says, tearing open a condom with his teeth and rolling it on him. "i really like you.." i whisper, hovering above his tip. "you need help sweatheart?" matt speaks, holding my ass.

i didn't, i just wanted to feel his hands on me.

"yes,- yeah please.."

he lowers me down onto him, halfway down. suddenly he drops me, my ass colliding with his thighs, i let out a gasp as he smiles, he lifts me back up to his tip, before dropping me again.

i let out a shaky moan, matt holds a hand over my mouth. "can't stay quiet can you baby?" he teases, lifting me up and down.

i squeeze my eyes shut, pushing myself up and down with my hands on his collar bones. i let out muffled whimpers, his hand clamped onto my lips.

"so good princess." he praises, lifting me up and down faster.

"you're clenching, gonna cum for me?"

i nod frantically,

"go on." he says, i instantly comply, orgasming on his length.

he groans before pulling out of me, his cum spilling into his condom. i instantly collapse on his chest. matt whispers praises in my ear.

i place a long kiss on his neck.

"pretty glad i didn't lock the door." i say in between breaths

—-———-----┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛------------------

had a shitty day today so i wrote matt smut LMAO

[girlgenius1111]

always enough for us

barca femeni x reader

r gets kicked out of her house. her teammates find out. protective barca at it's finest.

cw- bad parents... referenced homophobia?

Your back hurt. Really, this was the least of your problems. A few days ago, your parents had kicked you out. It didn't really come as a surprise to you; they'd never been very good parents, and you knew it was just a matter of time before they found out about... you, and decided they were done. You'd been crashing at your friend Sofia's house since then, on the couch. You couldn't complain, considering how kind it was of your friend to let you stay with her, but the couch was killing your back. This is what you forced yourself to think about as you climbed out of her car at the training grounds, instead of, well, any other part of the situation.

You were fine. You didn't need your parents, not at all. You didn't need their help, their house, their love, any of it. You had just turned 18, and you were sure you'd be able to find an apartment soon considering your salary at Barca. Everything was fine.

Of course, you forgot to factor in your nosy, nosy teammates. And how bad of a liar you were. Combined, your secret was out before you wanted it to be, which was never.

-----

You were walking quickly from Sofia's car, hoping that you'd arrived early enough that no one was there to see you get dropped off, instead of driving your own car. It wasn't really your car, it was your parents, and while they had let you take a lot of your stuff, the car was not one of them. You thought you were safe, seeing no one ahead of you, when you heard your name being called from behind you, a distinct British accent ringing across the parking lot.

"Y/n!!!!! Wait!!!" Lucy called dramatically. Rolling your eyes, you turned around, motioning for her to hurry up. She arrived by your side, falling in to step next to you.

"Who was that dropping you off? What happened to your car?"

"Oh. That was my friend, Sofia. I... we... my car is.... broken. It's broken and it's getting fixed. So Sofia drove me. Because my car is broken," you stuttered out, honestly surprising even yourself with how bad of a lie you'd just told considering you'd been practicing the lie all week.

"Your car is... broken?" Lucy asked, shooting you a weird look.

"Yeah, the engine or something," you say, trying to act casually.

"Why aren't your parents driving you?"

"They have work."

Lucy is quiet for a moment, before she stops you in the hallway, turning to face you. "Is something going on? You're being weird."

"Weirder than normal?" you try to joke.

"Y/n." Lucy says. She was so rarely serious off the pitch, it was kind of intimidating.

"Nothing is going on."

"You are really one of the worst liars I've ever met. Your whole face is red right now, do you know that?" Lucy asks, not a hint of humor in her voice. Instead, her eyes are squinting at you inquisitively, and you feel like they're burning right through you.

"I'm not lying!" You protest, feeling your cheeks heat up even more.

"It just got redder. Tell me what's going on."

"No." Lying wasn't working, but you were stubborn, and you're sure you could out-stubborn Lucy.

"Fine. I'll go ask Mapi if she knows what's up with you. Or Irene. Or Alexia," she threatens. You hadn't expected her to go there so soon.

"No, Lucy, please don't," you beg, reaching out to catch her wrist as she begins to walk away.

"Then tell me what's happening. Did you crash your car?"

"No I- I didn't crash my car, Lucia, seriously." Lucy smirks, crossing her arms though, ensuring that she's standing between you and any viable exit from the conversation. You take a breath. "I'm just staying with Sofia for a bit. It's not a big deal."

Lucy's smirk is gone. "Why? Did something happen with your parents?" Your poor relationship with them wasn't really a secret to anyone on the team. They hardly went to any games before they'd kicked you out. Your older teammates silently disapproved of them, you knew, but they were careful never to say anything in front of you.

"I told you what was going on. Can I go now?" You ask, ignoring Lucy's questions.

"Hey, wait," she tries, but you slip past her, walking down the hall towards the locker room.

"I wouldn't tell mention this to anyone, if I were you. Otherwise word might get out about what you and Ona were doing in the showers last week," you tease, enjoying the way Lucy's face heats up at your words. You're pretty confident she won't risk getting ratted out just to get to the bottom of what's going on with you.

Apparently, you underestimate how much Lucy cares about you.

-----

You've managed to take your mind off things during practice, and you completely miss Lucy quietly talking to Alexia during a water break. You also miss Alexia talking to Irene and Mapi during the next water break. You take your time showering and changing, knowing that the fewer people around when you leave, the fewer people to realize you're walking, and in the complete opposite direction of your house. You don't really think about your conversation with Lucy again until you're on your way out of the locker room, and Alexia calls you to stay back. You're one of the last ones in the room as it is, and you turn slowly, eyes finding Lucy's. You glare at her, and she shrugs, patting you on the shoulder before leaving the locker room. You turn, finding Alexia, Irene, and Mapi all sat on a bench, looking at you.

"Yes?" You say.

"Is there something you need to tell us?" Alexia asks firmly. She's not fucking around, you can tell, nor is Irene. And, a rare occurrence, neither is Mapi. You look to her, hoping she'll crack a joke or something and ease the tension in the room, but she's staring at you with a matching searching gaze.

"You all had a great practice!" You try, shooting Alexia a smile. It falls off your face when she only raises an eyebrow at you.

"Want to try that again?"

"Alright, Mapi's penalties could use some work." Mapi frowns, but Alexia ignores your comment.

"Y/n."

"Alexia," you say, trying your best to look like nothing was going on, like nothing was bothering you. Like the longer you stood in front of them, it wasn't getting harder to collapse into the fits of sobs you'd been fighting for a week.

"Enough, y/n. Talk." Alexia replies. Mapi and Irene are fighting smiles now. Watching you and Alexia go back and forth was always entertaining; a real battle of wills.

"I'm staying with one of my friends. I'm assuming that's what Lucy told you."

All three of them were surprised when you give up so easily. It only worried them more, the way your eyes fall to stare at your shoes, and the way you clasp your hands together, trying to hide how they're shaking.

"Why?" Alexia asks. Her voice is softer now, more gentle, but still, she leaves no option for you to refuse to answer. You can tell, by a quick glance to her face, that she's losing patience. You're scared, suddenly, that they'll give up. On you. They'll stop caring, because you try so hard not to let them. This is what prompts you to be honest, really. The fear of no one, no one at all, caring for you anymore.

"My parents kicked me out." Your voice is just more than a whisper. The older girls' faces fall instantly. They feared this, when Lucy told them about your conversation, but they hoped they were wrong, that it wasn't this.

"What happened with them?" Irene asks, almost like she can't help herself. You're sure she's thinking of her son, of how she couldn't imagine doing that to him.

"I don't really want to talk about it." You say. Mapi opens her mouth, surely to push you further, but to your surprise, Alexia lays a hand on her arm, cutting her off. Your captain looks at you for a minute, eyes searching yours, before she speaks.

"Okay. You're gonna stay with me. I have an extra bedroom, and Mapi and Ingrid live almost right next door. We can go get your stuff from your friends now."

"No, Ale. No. I'm fine at Sofia's, really."

"Well I'm not fine with you there. You're a kid, you need adult supervision. Besides, it makes more sense. I can drive you to practice and everything. And make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"Alexia. No."

"Y/n. Yes. This isn't up for discussion," Alexia has raised her voice, just a little, and you take a step back. Alexia notices, because of course she does, and she calms herself down instantly, whole face softening. "Look, I know this isn't ideal, but this is what we're doing. Please, just trust me, y/n? If you hate living with me, we can figure something else out, but just give it a shot, okay?"

You almost laugh, because really, Alexia thinks that the problem is that you don't want to live with her. That couldn't be further from the truth- you would like to, deep down you admit it. It would be easier. It would make you feel safe. You just can't impose like that, can't do that to Alexia. She'd get tired of you, eventually, just like your parents had. You didn't want that.

You take too long thinking all of this, apparently, because soon she's ushering you out of the room and towards her car. Her and Irene walk ahead, quietly discussing what you can only assume to be how much they hate your parents. Mapi hangs back, walking with you.

"You know that Alexia wouldn't offer if she didn't really want you there, right?" The defender says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You look at her in surprise, not expecting her to understand your reasoning when no one else did. She just gives you a wry smile, waiting for you to answer.

"Why would she want me there, Mapi? You ask. Mapi frowns.

"Because you're you. And we all love you. Alexia especially, I think you're her favorite. But seriously, y/n, any of us would take you in without a second thought." Mapi says it so matter of factly, you're thrown for a loop. It didn't make sense, really. That these people, your teammates, who owed you nothing, were willing to drop everything for you, when your parents... well.

You aren't really sure what to respond to her, and you don't have to, because Alexia is gesturing you towards her car, and Irene is pulling you into a tight hug, telling you to come over any time. You return the hug, hearing the echo of Mapi's words in your ears. Maybe she was right.

-----

Sofia had been surprised to see you packing, but she understood. You're sure she's relieved to have you out of her hair, even if she doesn't say it. The tight hug she gives you tells a different story, and you could swear there are tears in her eyes as you walk out of the building. Once again, you're left completely speechless at the care your friends are showing you.

It's not too late by the time you arrive back at Alexia's, all the stuff you brought from your parents, and then from Sofia's, in tow, but you feel an interrogation coming on from Alexia, so you slip off to shower, needing a few minutes to yourself to process the day. By the time your done, you've cried a fair amount in the shower, and you're sure your eyes are red and puffy.

Still, when you appear in the living room, quietly taking a seat on the couch, a safe distance away from where Alexia sits, scrolling through her phone, you promise yourself that you won't cry again. Not in front of Alexia. She looks up when you enter, brows immediately furrowing at the sight of your tearstained cheeks, and you pretend you don't know what she's looking at.

"How are you feeling?" she asks kindly, after giving you a minute to start the conversation, if you felt like it.

"Fine." you say shortly. Alexia doesn't say anything. After 2 full minutes of silence, you realize she's trying to make you so uncomfortable that you talk, knowing you hate awkwardness.You wish she didn't know you so well, as you open your mouth to finally let it all out, but a part of you feels so loved, so cared for, by it.

"My parents are... my parents. I shouldn't have expected anything different from them, when they found out."

"Found out what?" Alexia asks casually.

You take a big breath. No one on the team knows. Really, only Sofia and a few other people know. You want to tell, you want to be open about it. You wish it was as easy as just doing something you want to. You know, realistically that the team won't care, that Alexia won't care. Still, you can't seem to forget your parent's reactions, and you feel your heart clench with fear.

"I'm... um... They caught me, kissing a girl. I'm gay." You say, eyes blurring with tears as you stare at the table in front of you. Your throat burns with the effort of keeping your sobs in, but you can't cry. Not when Alexia hasn't even said anything. Not when you'd be crying about a different reaction.

The blonde woman scoots closer to you, until her shoulder is pressed up against yours. Still, you keep your eyes on the white wood table in front of you. When Alexia speaks, it's the gentlest you've ever heard her be.

"Y/n, I'm sorry your parents didn't respond well. You deserve more than that." At this, you shrug, ignoring the way your bottom lip is trembling. A few tears escape, and you wipe them away quickly, like they were never there. "Can you look at me?" Alexia asks. You turn to her, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check when you see the way Ale's eyes are also watery.

"I'm really proud of you, cariño."

"For what?" you respond, before you can stop yourself, sounding more like a sob than actual words.

"Oh, pequeña. For all of it. For talking to me when I know being vulnerable is difficult. For telling me, when I know it couldn't have been easy. For turning into this incredibly good person, despite the people the raised you."

There's no chance for you, after that. The cries fall out of your lips, and you are powerless to stop them. Alexia is steady next to you, even as your body trembles with emotion. She pulls you into her, arms holding you tightly against her.

"I know, pequeña, I'm sorry. It's gonna be okay. I promise." If you weren't preoccupied with sobbing into your captain's shirt, you'd notice that she's also crying, just a little.

"I don't understand why they can't just love me. It's all they're supposed to do, but I'm not good enough for them," you cry, all the feelings you'd been pushing down now pouring out of you.

"No, cariño. They are the ones that are not good enough for you. You have so many people in your life that love you, that have no obligation to love you, but they do anyway. That means that you are good. Your parents... it's their problem, not yours." Alexia can tell you aren't fully convinced. She pulls back, tilting your chin up to look at you.

"You are good, cariño, so good. You'll always be good enough. We'll tell you that, everyday until you believe it, if that's what it takes."

"We?" you ask, confused.

The blonde woman looks a little exasperated. "The team. Y/n, Irene and Mapi were ready to fight me to get you to live with them. When the rest of the team finds out, I'm going to have some serious competition. We want you around, y/n. We really do."

"Oh." you say, because you're starting to believe her, and you aren't sure how else to respond to that. "So... you really don't mind me staying here?" you check.

"No. I really don't." Alexia promises. You nod, weakly smiling at her. She's glad to see something on your face that isn't a frown. Her phone buzzes in her hand, then, and she picks it up, expecting it to be from Mapi or Irene, asking how you were doing. Instead, it's from Lucy.

"Y/n?" she asks.

You're drying your eyes with your shirt sleeve, and you miss the amused expression on her face. "What?"

"Why did Lucy just text me that 'y/n is lying, whatever she tells you.'"

You gasp, a real smile lighting up your face. Alexia laughs at your expression. "I almost forgot! I told Lucy if she told you what was going on, she'd regret it."

You guess that maybe, Lucy was just looking out for you, and maybe you don't need to tell Alexia what her and Ona were doing, but then again, the shower is a public space, and you'd been scarred for life. You'd thank Lucy for telling Ale later, after you enjoyed watching her get scolded by Alexia. You're starting to think most of the team would forgive you for almost anything.

-----

[sanguineterrain]

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot. 

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool. 

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night. 

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees. 

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora. 

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them. 

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep. 

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him. 

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head. 

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat. 

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.” 

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him. 

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you. 

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?" 

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it. 

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says. 

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say. 

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask. 

That turns his cheeks pinker. 

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923." 

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours. 

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile. 

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing. 

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt." 

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge. 

"Your hair is wavy," you observe. 

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face. 

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?" 

"Is it poisoned?" 

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much. 

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks. 

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe. 

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat. 

"Uh, th-thanks," he says. 

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change. 

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks. 

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours. 

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says. 

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you. 

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes. 

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly. 

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour." 

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun. 

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks. 

"Why would she pick me up?" 

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply. 

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again. 

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade. 

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink. 

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass. 

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts. 

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number. 

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up. 

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers. 

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still. 

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent. 

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing. 

"Good penmanship," you say. 

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile. 

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill. 

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through. 

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips. 

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face. 

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother. 

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour. 

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept. 

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world. 

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt. 

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat. 

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk. 

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him. 

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb. 

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly. 

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes." 

"Undoubtedly," you say. 

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks. 

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him." 

"I believe it," says Max. 

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks. 

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse. 

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says. 

You wonder if Steve would agree. 

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say. 

Max acquiesces with a hum. 

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block. 

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead. 

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve. 

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee. 

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max. 

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier. 

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you. 

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup. 

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay." 

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what. 

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching. 

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream. 

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says. 

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her. 

"Robin." 

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says. 

"We know," Max tells him. 

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say. 

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you. 

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask. 

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over. 

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley." 

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…" 

Robin snickers. Max smirks. 

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says. 

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes. 

"Have some class, will you?" she says. 

"I'm classy!" Steve insists. 

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter." 

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say. 

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Gummy worms?” 

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.” 

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed. 

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror. 

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can. 

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin. 

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone. 

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons. 

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze. 

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers. 

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves. 

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy. 

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks. 

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest. 

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?" 

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles. 

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything. 

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet. 

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem. 

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk. 

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees. 

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say. 

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?” 

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile. 

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says. 

“I’m nervous,” you confess. 

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks. 

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister. 

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important. 

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt. 

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn. 

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates. 

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open. 

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up. 

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately. 

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch. 

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath. 

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm. 

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then." 

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing. 

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified. 

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck. 

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand. 

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve. 

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?” 

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding. 

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say. 

His cheeks turn pink again. 

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek. 

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?" 

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says. 

"Dude," Steve hisses. 

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie. 

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.  

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?" 

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate." 

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird. 

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand." 

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers. 

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin. 

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails. 

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat. 

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant. 

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger." 

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids. 

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?" 

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it. 

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger. 

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt." 

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”  

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it. 

"Your hair has product," you observe. 

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks. 

"Especially mine." 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting. 

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks. 

"I like it as well as anybody else."  

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile. 

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot. 

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask. 

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come." 

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends. 

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say. 

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath. 

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party. 

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible. 

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love. 

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch. 

"But you love Brett," you'd said. 

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around. 

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same. 

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later. 

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer. 

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet. 

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand. 

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say. 

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do. 

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else. 

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out. 

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip. 

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol. 

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it. 

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned. 

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded. 

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you. 

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard. 

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny. 

"Debbie would've told me," you say. 

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe." 

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth. 

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab. 

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria. 

"Hello?" 

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands. 

"Uh, hello? Who is this?" 

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks. 

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."  

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?" 

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?" 

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody." 

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt. 

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small. 

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest. 

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms. 

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall. 

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo. 

"My knight," you say. 

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending." 

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly. 

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey." 

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that." 

"Do you really?" 

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home." 

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark. 

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say. 

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady. 

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks. 

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke. 

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him. 

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing. 

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition. 

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all. 

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out. 

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence. 

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May. 

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate. 

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side. 

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe. 

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves. 

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve. 

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes. 

"Making every man mad." 

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair. 

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say. 

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased." 

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you. 

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave." 

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?" 

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them." 

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt. 

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks. 

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair. 

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says. 

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin. 

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve. 

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue. 

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume." 

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say. 

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again." 

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest. 

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail. 

Steve turns to you and smiles softly. 

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law." 

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time. 

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard. 

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not. 

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers. 

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops. 

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?" 

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows. 

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you." 

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair. 

“Buttercup?” 

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember. 

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say. 

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper. 

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist. 

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in. 

Dustin shrieks. 

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter. 

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle. 

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”

[leclercsluvs]

CL16/DR3 | Already Over | smau

part 6

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

an: i'm not really sure who she should end up with in the end, so if please do let me know if it should be charles or daniel pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

(time stamps aren't that important)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2.985.572 others yourusername got a few photos this weekend (don't let him tell you otherwise, he was NOT asleep in the last photo) tagged: danielricciardo

danielricciardo now why woud you lie? i very much was asleep.

yourusername no one looks that cute (except for maybe lando) asleep. dont deny it. you asked me to take a photo of you pretending to sleep danielricciardo wow why dont you go be with lando then 💔 landonorris well you can't deny, i do look adorable when i sleep danielricciardo do not start, or i'll take away your trophy. landonorris yourusername i don't look cute when i sleep yourusername fine danielricciardo we can pretend you were asleep

ricsbestglam he's literally shining! haven't seem him this happy since he was in red bull with max

wrldof3 no literally like they seem so happy! i love them so much 🥹

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 3.736.193 others yourusername went on a nice little vacation in between races, he got us matching hoodies 🥰 tagged: danielricciardo

danielricciardo couple goals fr 🤗

yourusername the exact reasoning you gave me to get permission to buy the hoodies (i don't know why you felt you needed permission LMAO) danielricciardo i'm just very considerate :) landonorris unlike other people 👀

sharlslvr charles is back in the likes????

f1wagsupdates

liked by leclvr, sharlswiftie and 825 others f1wagsupdate charles has been looking extra happy lately, however his girlfriend has not been seen lately, though he's always smiling at his phone. do we think they're texing? tagged: charles_leclerc

leclvr want me to be honest? i think they broke up. she went to every single race before, and now she doesn't? if my sources are correct, she hasn't been to 4 races atp, which seems a little weird since she went to all the previous ones.

scfty/n my theory is he's texting yourusername trying to win her back. he started liking her posts again. i even caught him using a song of hers in his story. leclvr wait are you fr?? no way!! lowkey praying it's her i loved seeing her support him 😍 y/nswrld no because same!! and her and daniel does look happy, but i miss seeing her in ferrari and red 😔

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and 2.364.923 others charles_leclerc sent some flowers to my favorite girl today. hope you like them <3

carlossainz55 they are lovely mate! who were they truly for?

charles_leclerc my girl. as i said carlossainz55 not girlfriend? charles_leclerc if she would let me, i'd call her my wife, but i probably need to put in some work for that carlossainz55 you did not answer my question 🤨 charles_leclerc can't call her my girlfriend yet 🤷‍♂️

sharlswrld GUYS ARE WE SEEING HIS AND CARLOS LITTLE CONVO???? does this mean he sent flowers to someone else? someone he want to call his WIFE?? him and his girlfriend like JUST broke up and he's already moved one?? good riddance LMAO

scfty/n omg now stay with me. what if he's talking about yourusername???? like he's been back liking her posts (which he stopped during after their breakup) and he broke up with his girlfriend who we never got a name for? were they even that serious? y/nsnonsense omg no because we all saw the posts he made for y/n and he never made any for his girlfriend after? and he did never take those photos down. i'm thinking pr relationship 🤷‍♀️ y/nswrld omg you're so right! but heres the problem.. y/n and daniel are still together. so why would he be sending flowers to her? scfty/n to win her back ofc duuuh

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 3.729.391 others yourusername got sent some beautiful flowers in my favorite color the other day. couldn't resist making a little photoshoot. 📸 yourbff tagged: yourbff

danielricciardo god how do you manage to look so gorgeous all the damn time? 🤩

yourusername i was just born like that i guess yourbff we love a supportive boyfriend yourfriend do you not remember him literally chanting and hyping her up behind the camera? yourbff i do indeed

landonorris those look suspiciously a lot like the flowers from charles' post 🤨

yourusername are you being fr right now? landonorris wait you didn't know who sent them? yourusername no clues at all landonorris you have to go check out his post. they're like identical

scfty/n did lando just confirm that charles did in fact send these to y/n???

sharlvr i think he did. i don't know how to feel about this ngl y/nsleclerc omg omg omg it's happening THEY'RE GETTING BACK TOGETHER scfty/n hmm think about the fact y/n has a new boyfriend and charles treated her horribly while they were together. chill a little lmao

-

that's all for this part. i don't know how long this actually is. i also didn't proofread it, so sorry if there's spelling mistakes lol i hope you enjoy this, i'm lowkey stressing with getting charles to "be better" but i'm doing my best lmao

part 7

[steveshairychest]

Steve and Robin have been working at the plant nursery for months. It was the only job that would hire them both, and it's honestly been the best job they've had.

Steve loves taking care of the plants, loves the way the outdoor plants wave at him in the wind and sparkle in the sunlight after he's watered them. No one gives him weird looks when he talks to the plants because everyone that comes in understands, they're all plant people too, they know talking to plants is hard to resist. Steve loves that they are very good listeners, especially the ferns in the back corner of the nursery. They brush their long arms against Steve's cheek and make him feel so much better after he's finished dumping all his problems on the poor plant.

And then they get a new employee, a guy with long curly hair and too many tattoos and piercings for Steve to count. His name is Eddie. And he does not have a green thumb. Not at all.

Steve can't understand why the nursery hired this guy! He's hopeless!

Steve watches in horror from behind his beloved ferns as Eddie accidentally chops the head off one of the gorgeous rose blooms while pruning and then tries to hide the evidence. He walks away from the rose bush with the poor chopped off bloom clenched tightly in his fist and then he dumps it in the compost bin.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon glaring at the new guy while talking to the poor rose bush. Eddie flushes a shade of red similar to the rose he murdered any time Steve looks at him, and Steve hates how pretty he looks, hates that it causes a small smile to pull at his lips.

And then Eddie drops a watering can on a peace lily, a peace lily that Steve spent weeks nurturing back to life and the spell Eddie put on him with his flushed cheeks and big, brown eyes is broken.

Robin pities the poor new guy, she can see he's struggling, so she just makes him do all the heavy lifting with her. She doesn't want him anywhere near Steve's precious plants. She saw Steve reach for his giant pruning shears a few days ago when Eddie went near his ferns.

"You know he's terrified of you." Robin says to Steve on their joint lunch break. They're sitting on a stack of soil bags watching Eddie potter around and show people the plants they're looking for. Steve will give him that, he's good with people. Really good.

"Why? I'm nice." Steve takes a bite of his sandwich and avoids Robin's stare. He knows she's giving him the 'don't bullshit me' stare and if he looks, he'll crumble and do something ridiculous like admit he has been kinda mean to the new guy and that he should have just helped him out from the start instead of threatening to chop his fingers off every time he touched Steve's plants.

Steve sighs. "OK, fine. I've been a dick." Robin nods and steals the last bite of Steve's sandwich.

"Now, make it right and play nice with the pretty boy."

"He's not pretty."

"That's not what you said to your precious ferns yesterday. I think you said –" Steve walks off before she can finish and ignores her laughter as he stalks over to where Eddie is crouched in front of the baby succulents.

Steve clears his throat to get his attention and the poor guy jumps in fright and nearly smacks a succulent off the stand. "Steve! Hi! I was just talking to them. I promise."

Steve stifles a laugh and sits down on the floor in front of the low plant stand. He gently pulls a dead leaf off one plant before offering Eddie a smile, a truce. "That's good. They like it when you talk to them. I actually sing to them when I'm here alone." His sudden gentleness must spook Eddie because he just blinks at Steve, his mouth open slightly as he stares in disbelief that Steve actually just spoke to him.

"You can sing?" Eddie sits down next to him and mirrors Steve's actions; gently pulling dead leaves off and checking the soil.

"No, I can't." He laughs. "But the plants don't seem to mind."

They sit in silence for a minute before Steve gathers up his small pile of dead leaves and stands up, Eddie follows suit. "I'm sorry I've been such a dick." Steve rushes out before he loses the courage to admit it. "It's just... you're awful with plants."

Eddie laughs, the sound catches Steve off guard and echoes around the nursery, and Steve realises in that moment that he's never heard Eddie laugh before. It's loud and beautiful and Steve wants to hear it again. Every day.

"I know. I don't have a green thumb at all, but this is the only job that would take me. I think the plants want me to quit."

Steve wanted him to quit. He'd grumbled to Robin about it nearly every day. Eddie knew that and he still stayed. He smiles at Steve in a way that says he doesn't mind, he's just teasing.

But Steve still feels like a total asshole.

"I could teach you how to look after them properly." Steve offers. "I should have offered to help weeks ago." He adds on quietly as they walk through the rows and rows of plants. Steve touches all of them gently, he grazes his fingers along their leaves in a friendly greeting.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Eddie says with a smile so bright it could rival the sun and cause all of the flowers to bloom.

They spend nearly every day at work together after that. Steve helps Eddie learn all the plants' names, their technical names and the secret names Steve's given them all. Steve shows him how to prune and shape the baby hedges and tries not to blush when their fingers touch while passing over the shears. Eddie is a fast learner. He absorbs everything Steve says and then executes it perfectly. He looks over at Steve and smiles excitedly after he successfully prunes the rose bush without chopping a single bloom off.

The more time they spend together, the more Steve becomes aware of the feeling blooming in his chest. It tickles his ribs and causes him to blush and bump shoulders with Eddie more often, causes him to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Eddie's ear and brush his hand along Eddie’s back whenever he passes him.

The new bloom in his heart causes him to kiss Eddie in the back corner of the nursery behind the ferns.

Turns out Eddie has a green thumb after all because there is something so beautiful blooming between them, and so far only the ferns know about it.

[m4k4yl4]

Coffee Boy

Summary: When y/n ends up having to close the cafe for the night, what happens when her cafe crush ends up staying with her in the cafe til the snow calms down.

Content warning: None.

Masterlist

Posted: 12/01/2023

He's always here, same time, same booth every day, yet the most y/n has talked to him was when he asks for an Americano at the cash register and the only thing she can say back is "that'll be $3.15, please move up." or "have a good day, sir!"

His name is Felix, and that's one thing she knows for sure she's the one that writes it on his cup every morning. She started to draw little things next to it. One day, a sun. The next day, a cat is anything she could think of on the top of her head. She enjoyed seeing the smile and nod he would give her after seeing the drawing.

Same routine of this for the past 4 weeks or at past that's how long she had been counting and she still couldn't find the courage to speak to him and whenever she thinks she finally has the chance and confident to do he's left. At the same time, as always gone to who knows back into the cold winter air with an even colder Americano in hand.

Today was like any other 9am y/n had already clocked in standing at the front finger tapping on the table as she looked back and forth from the clock to the front door of the cafe. 'He still hasn't come in yet, wondering what happened,' she thought.

Hours had passed, and he never showed up. 'Guess he's not showing today.' As she's wiping off the last tables, the last worker there withher runs up. "Hey y/n! Can you maybe do the closing shift for me? I have a date with my boyfriend tonight, and I can't miss the reservation."

Y/n blinks for a second, "I- I mean, I guess.." "Really?! Oh, thank you, babes! I own you a big one! Okay, bye!" Y/n stares a little confused at the interaction as her coworker runs off the door. "I guess I'm closing tonight.."

As the night goes on for longer, the snow picks up while y/n is busy making sure everything in the back is good and not put out of place until she hears loud bangs on the entrance of the cafe.

She quickly runs out the of the back, thinking someone was breaking in only to be met with the blonde boy she had been waiting for earlier. She quickly runs to the door, opening it to let him in.

A big gust of wind and snow blows in with him as she shuts the door again, feeling like she had just been stuffed into a freezer. "Jesus, it's freezing out there, I didn't notice it had snowed this much!"

"Yeah, they had been talking on the news about a blizzard coming through. I didn't think it would be this bad.." Felix said as he shook some of the snow off himself. "Oh! You must be freezing, I'll go get you something to warm up with. " He shakes his head, "No, no, you're fine. I'm fine, really!"

She looks at him for a second. "You sure? Your face looks all red. I can get you some hot chocolate, I haven't turned the machine yet." Felix touches his cold face. The red one of his face deepens in embarrassment. "Yeah.. I guess hot chocolate would help a bit. Thank you." She smiles. "No problem!"

As Felix sits down in the booth, he usually sits in y/n walks to the hot chocolate machine freaking out on the inside. 'This is the most I have ever talked to him. What the fuck-'

She comes back with two hot chocolates in hand, setting one in front of him as she sat down across the booth from him. "Didn't know you liked hot chocolate usually you get an Americano and those don't have that much sweetness to them"

He gives a small smirk, "You remembered my order?" She looks up from her drink, eye widen."uhm, I mean, it's just that you come here a lot and never have changed your order, so you know it just kinda stuck, I guess. Sorry if you think it's weird." Felix laughs, "No, it's cute, really. Also, I love those little drawings you put on the cup."

"Really?" She surprised, "Yeah, the little smiley sun was my favorite. Do you draw them on every cup?" She pauses for moments embarrassed to answer his questions, "Hm, no..just yours, really.."

He smiles at her, "Well, thank you for that. Helps me smile in the morning." She smiles back at him face brighter than ever at his compliments. They talk for who knows how long. Y/n looks out the window, seeing the wind and snow calming down.

"Oh, I think it's stopped snowing." Felix looks out the window before checking his phone, "I should probably get going while it's stopped. My roommate is probably wondering where I'm at." He puts on his jacket, y/n following his lead.

"Me too. It's way too late for me to be here. I was supposed to close a while ago." She picks up their empty hot chocolate cups bring them to the kitchen, til an idea came into her head.

"Felix!" She comes out of the kitchen a to go cup in hand, "Oh y/n! I was wondering where you had gone, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye first." She smiles at him, handing him the cup.

"It's still cold outside, and I didn't see you come in a car or anything, so take this to keep you warm on the home." Felix looks down at the cup wear the names are usually written instead a phone number, y/n phone number, written with the smiley sun he liked so much next to it.

Felix looks back up at a nervous y/n standing in front of him. "Thank you again, y/n. I'll be sure to repay you for this." She smiles at him, "I hope you keep that promise, Felix."

They both leave out together, waving goodbye as they walk opposite ways home, stupid smiles on their faces. As y/n enters her house, she feels the buzz from her phone looking at the notification, making her want to giggle like a little girl.

1 new message

1-×××-×××-××××: y/n? It's Felix! Was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend. You know, as repayment<3

A/N: YAYYY‼️ ANOTHER FIC‼️

[softlysunrays]

━━ caught

pairing : draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings : the use of YN YLN (sorry), lmk if i missed anything tho

dividers : @cafekitsune

a/n : im not sure about this one shot tbh.. im not feeling it. pls be nice & enjoy

DAILY CLICK

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

EDUCATE YOURSELF

It was their fifth year in Hogwarts.

YN and Draco have a secret relationship, no one knows about their relationship even their closest friends and family. People just assume they are best friends who are very affectionate and have physical touch as a love language.

They both trust each other dearly and once promised to tell anything and not keep any secret from one another. YN has told Draco about how bullshit it was for Professor Umbridge to not let them learn about DADA and spells.

I mean how can the students will defend themselves if they are in dangerous situations?

Her reason was that there would be no such things since we are safe and sound here, in Hogwarts but are they really safe there?

One day, YN learned about Dumbledore's Army which is led by none other than Harry Potter and his friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. YN was intrigued by this and just as her luck, she saw Granger walking into the library, maybe she was looking for a new book, thought YN. 

She walked up to Granger, who was indeed looking for a new book about spells and DADA. YN tapped on Granger's shoulder and she was stunned to see it was YN who tapped it. Number one, YN herself is a Slytherin, number two she is friends with Malfoy and the others. What could she want from her? A Gryffindor and a muggle-born herself?

Granger gave a weird look at YN and she cleared her throat before saying "I heard about the Dumbledore's Army", just as Granger heard that, her face changed and quickly put on a blank expression not wanting YN to know about it being a real thing.

"I'm not sure what are you talking about YLN" lied Granger.

YN scoffed, "I'm pretty sure you know what I'm talking about" she said and folded her arm, feeling impatient in her body.

"Look, I know you don't trust me but I'm just like you guys well not really obviously. Nonetheless, I do think Umbridge is full of rubbish for not wanting us to learn more about DADA and spells. I want to learn more about it you know, for my safety, just in case" added YN.

"I still don't believe you but if you really really want to join, you have to write down your name on the list" Hermione says attempting to make her back off from joining. 

But instead of backing off YN agreed to write down her name, which surprised the bushy brown-haired girl.

"List that you might jinx? Just in case I told the pink bitch? Yeah sure" YN was joking of course but little does she know that Granger does jinxed it.

After the dinner and the meeting at the room of requirement, YN and Draco are walking to his room for cuddling and having a conversation. They haven't seen and talked to each other at all for a day. Draco missed her so he thought it would be nice for them to get cosy and chit-chat with her. Since tomorrow is Saturday there will be no problem for them to sleep late.

"So how was your day, love? " he asked as he tucked in YN's hair behind her ear.

"It was fine except I haven't seen nor talked to you at all today" she answered.

"Are you saying that you miss me YLN" teased Draco.

"No, I didn't say that" she rolled her eyes.

"I missed you as well love, I really looking forward to this cuddle session" he said and pecked her lip.

YN smiled before she changed her position and sat straight, "So you know how we promised not to keep any secrets from each other" said YN.

"Yes, what? Are you going to tell me how handsome I am? That is not a secret darling, everyone knows that " Draco laughed at his own joke.

"You are so full of yourself" YN responded trying to hide her smile. "Really? I thought it was you" Draco smirked. "Merlin, Draco!" YN's face is now as red as a tomato.

He chuckled, amused by YN's reaction.

"So what is this secret about? Why are you suddenly bringing it up?" Draco asks as he is curious about what is she going to tell him.

"Um don't get mad" she said before Draco cut her off.

"I'm not unless you're saying that you cheating on me then, I'll think about it" YN's heart broke a little, how could he think something like that?

They've been together for nine months now, "How could you think such things like that" she said more in a questionable tone. "I mean who knows, right?" and that makes YN even more sad. Not once had she ever thought about leaving Draco let alone cheat.

"Look Draco, as long as I'm here. You will always have someone who loves and is proud of you, alright? I'm not going to cheat on you, you're Draco Malfoy for Salazar's sake! You are the most amazing, loving and caring boyfriend I could ever ask for" YN reassured him.

"Even though you're a tad annoying I still love you, always have and always will" added YN as she laughs.

"Way to make your boyfriend feel good, sweetheart" Draco replied sarcastically but he knew what YN meant.

YN laughed at his comment.

Once her laughter was a bit calm she finally started to tell him about Dumbledore's Army.

"It's not about any of that, it's just that" YN stopped, feeling nervous take over her body. "Go on" Draco encouraged her to speak. "It just, you know about Dumbledore's Army? I joined them. But before you get mad, it was kind of my decision. I just thought you should know about me joining them so you won't get mad if we ever get caught but can you promise me one thing? Do not tell Umbridge about you know this. I kind of got myself jinxed by Granger when I wrote my name on the list for joining" YN explained everything.

Draco stayed silent because he was too speechless to speak. After all, that is a lot to take in and process.

"Say something" YN whispered.

"Well, I'm kind of surprised that's all. Do what you think is the best for you, I won't stop you from all of this and yes I promise I won't tell her and the squads about any of this. I'll just pretend that I never hear any of this" he said smiling and that made YN happy so she drowned him with a lot of kisses.

"Thank you, sweetheart, for not getting mad and supporting my decision about it" YN said, grateful that Draco understood her.

"Of course, isn't that what a hot, handsome, funny, good-looking and smart boyfriend should do for his girlfriend?" YN laughed and cuddled herself closer to his chest.

The couple continued talking about a lot of things, from talking about school to talking about the future to talking about where they wanted to live after getting married, how to decorate the house, how many kids they wanted in the future and what to name them to fall asleep while cuddling. Draco's arms were around YN's waist, one of her hands on his chest and the other one on his blonde hair.

It has been a month since YN joined the army and she's been making a lot of new friends and people started to take a liking to YN. Who knows if Slytherin can be a nice person?

They all have been practising more and more, Harry Potter dares to say if he was a teacher, his favourite student might be YN because of how excellent and fast learner she is. Today, just like other days, they meet up at the room of requirements. They will be practising the Patronus charm.

People said it was a hard spell to cast because you need happy memories to cast the spell. YN thought it was easy for her, all she had to do was think of Draco Malfoy and there it goes, her Patronus. Oh boy, she was wrong. It was quite challenging for her to get the correct hand movement, that is until she finally did it.

Her Patronus was a ferret, YN chuckled to herself. Everyone saw her Patronus and asked if it was Draco whom she thinking of and she nodded as her answer.

Suddenly there is a loud thud and soon the room is destroyed because of the hard thrust from the outside of the room. Some people thought it was an earthquake but as the room is exposed she saw Mr Filch and The Inquisitorial Squad along with Professor Umbridge.

YN saw Parkinson holding Marietta Edgecombe, Cho Chang's friend. The snitch.

How could she tell them?  YN thought. 

"I'm so sorry guys, I tried to keep it but they use the Veritaserum on me" she lied straight to their faces. 

Draco and YN had eye contact and his eyes said I'm sorry while hers said It's fine. She knows Draco wouldn't tell them about it since he did promise her about it and if he did tell them, why so late? why not sooner when she first told him?

It is because he wanted YN to be safe. Umbridge saw YN and tsk-ed her " How dare you YLN, you joined them instead of my squad" she said disappointed, like YN would actually care about it. Draco grabbed YN, not too harsh. He put on a fake angry face to YN not wanting people to think something suspicious about him.

YN knew he was faking his anger, she caught his smile when he grabbed her to him. She can't wait to tell him about her Patronus being a ferret.

REMINDER !!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

[wolfiesmoon]

Making exceptions

Baji x fem!reader

yikes i need copium AND LOTS OF IT (reminds me of a certain long-haired cult leader, or something)

Here's to a good tokyo rev fic debut🙇‍♀️🥂

Warnings: delinquent style™ hurt/comfort to fluff and lots of swearing (but that's on brand for tr anyways)

"Where the hell were you?! I was-" Baji practically broke down the rooftop door, pausing when he noticed your red, cried out face.

You quickly looked away even though you knew he already saw your tears. You've been avoiding him all day, knowing that he'll realise something is up with you straight away if you talked to him.

You thought you finally got him off your trail by sneaking onto the rooftop to cry it out but somehow he saw you leaving.

"Who do I need to kill?" The ominous tone of that question both completely surprised you yet felt completely on-brand for him.

"Don't... go beating up people... please..." you forced out, trying to overpower your hiccups.

"That's not what I was asking. Who the fuck do I need to kill?"

You flinched a little. "I know *hic* you wouldn't..." you knew the basic gist of Toman. That isn't what they do. You wiped your tear-stained cheeks, finally looking up at him. He looked livid, or atleast it looked like an angry face with your blurred vision.

He sighed. "Just tell me."

You can't possibly do that, because the person who made you cry is him. You see, you are hopelessly in love with Baji Keisuke. But the only thing he seems even remotely interested in is his gang. Which is fine, but it really does get to you sometimes.

You've tried everything to stop crushing on him but unfortunately for you, your stubborn heart refuses to let up.

"It's me..." you lied, making up some excuse of failing a test you studied really hard for.

"Did you really think I'd fall for that, idiot?"

You figured. He's too smart for his own good sometimes. It always takes you by surprise, considering his abysmal grades. Definitely not book smart. Or maybe his gang activities just keep him too busy to consider picking up a book.

You looked away again and heard the sound of him sitting down next to you.

"You seriously piss me off when you don't tell me what's wrong. You're lucky you're a girl, or I would beat your ass when you do that."

You laughed somewhat dryly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks. "Lucky me..."

A short silence followed, only interrupted by your ocassinal hiccups and sniffles.

"Are you gonna tell me or do I have to break my 'no-hitting-women' rule?" You could feel his eyes on you. You don't want an innocent person to recieve a beating and saying it's your own problem clearly didn't work, so your only option is....

"Listen... this isn't the best situation to say I'm about to say, but hear me out." You looked up, staring at the bright blue sky. Your vision was starting to clear up.

You didn't see it, but he raised an eyebrow in question.

"I like you. No, I'm in love with you." It simultaneously felt like there was a weight lifted off your shoulders and that ten more were placed on top. You're just desperate to ruin your friendship with him, aren't you?

"I knew that! Why the fuck are you crying over me...?" His words brought your still slightly red, glassy eyes to his, and a sentence jumbled in your throat, coming out as a strange groan.

"You k-knew?! This whole time?!" You tried again, clenching your shirt in your hand.

"You were making it pretty fucking obvious. Even Chifuyu noticed you acting weird." Baji still looked angry, this time at you, but you had a feeling he was very relieved deep down.

"Then... why didn't you say anything?" You held your hand against your forehead in embarrasment. Were you really being that obvious?

"I was waiting for you to confess, did you expect me to casually say 'it's real obvious you're crushing on me' one day?" He raised a brow, moving a part of his hair away from his eyes.

"Fair enough..." the fact he waited for you to confess on your own accord sparked a certain feeling in your chest. Speaking of confessions...

"So, uhh, what's your answer...?" you're not sure why you're even asking. He's made it clear multiple times he isn't interested in girls and relationships.

It is the entire reason you've been on the verge of tears all day.

"Why the hell not. I've been looking for new thrills lately anyways." Your eyes widened, taking a few seconds to properly process his words. You must have looked spaced out of your mind at that moment.

He said it non-chalantly, like he couldn't care less if it was you or another girl but somehow you knew that wasn't the case. You knew he was glad that it's you.

"Well, I'll be damned." You were honestly in too much shock to properly react to the fact he just agreed to be your boyfriend.

He smiled at you widely, showcasing his sharp teeth. "What's up with that reaction? You want me to beat your ass?"

"I'm happy! Trust me, I'm happy!" You yelled out as if you were scared but you knew he didn't mean it.

Does this mean you'll be the primary target if Baji gets into trouble with another gang and they decide to take revenge? How will your life change now? Will your parents approve of a boyfriend like him? Somehow, you never really thought about things like that until that moment.

...Hmmm, maybe the danger is worth it.

[hackersluvs]

What are we? -VH

Vinnie Hacker x fmreader / slight Regie Macalino x fmreader Summary- You and Vinnie had been having a situationship for a couple months now. Acting more like a couple, going on dates, holding hands, ect. But when he starts flirting with a girl at a party, you both get into a argument. That leaves you wondering what are you guys. content warning- cuss words (all I can really think of)

Angst pt 1 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I was setting up mine and vinnie's regular movie nights. Popcorn, pizza "pineapple pizza" to be specific, red wine, and gummy worms. These nights are so special to me, and it gives me hope that one of these days we can actually be an official couple. While I was setting up the final touches, I hear a knock on my door and quickly went to open the door. "Vin" I say in excitement and pull him into hug. "Hey beautiful" he says while giving me a small peck making me blushing. I closed the door and pull them to the couch. "I hope you are ready to watch zootopia" I giggle. He rolls his eyes, "You only want to watch it cause that stupid fox is in it." "Hey he's not stupid, he's a fine fox." I tell him. And he just gives me a weird look and says "I can't believe I like a girl who has a crush on a literal fox" I grab a pillow and hit him with it, "Hey don't judge me, and watch the movie." Rolling my eyes and then laying my head on his chest.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･3 days later ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I was sitting on my desk editing a new youtube video when I get a face time call from vinnie. "Hey Vin, what up."

He gives me one of his most famous smiles that will always make me weak. "Hey beautiful, my friend invited me to this party later tonight and wanted to know if you would like to come with me?"

"I would love to" I tell him. "Perfect, I will pick you up. See you later beautiful" He kisses his phone before hanging up.

I look at the time and see I still have lots of time to finish editing the video before I start getting ready. After a editing, door dashing a quick lunch I began to get ready. I look a quick shower, started to straighten my hair, and did my everyday make up. After doing everything I was supposed to I got a texted from vinnie saying he was here. I quickly went down and entered his car and gave him a quick kiss. Once we arrived at the party hand in hand. I let go of his hand, "I will go find the bathroom and come and find you." "See you later beautiful" he said kissing my cheek.

Once I was done with the bathroom and grabbing a quick drink I went to go look for vinnie. I was pushing threw the people and still couldn't find him... Until I saw in on the couch all up with this girl I've never seen or met. I hear a voice behind me "Trouble in paradise" I hear a voice behind me, it was Regie Macalino, He's part of a music band call North Star Boys. We met a while back we have a mutual friend and she took me to one of his concerts she got invited to.

I smiled "Ha ha ha very funny Regie" We began to talk that it made me forget all about vinnie. We were laughing and having a good time, until I heard vinnie. "Y/N what the hell."

"What do you want Vincent I said angrily. "You said you were going to the bathroom and now I find you all up on this guy when you came to this party with me." he yelled I was about to speak up when Regie spoke "Yo man what the fuck, don't speak to her like that. "Don't call me man and I was talking with her." he said pushing Vinnie "Woah, Vinnie don't even start." I turned to Regie "Reg I'm okay I got this from here okay, I will talk to you later.

"If you need anything you can just call me" he says while kissing my cheek. After he walked away I turned to Vinnie. "What is your problem?" "What is my problem? What is your problem? You said you were going to the bathroom and never came back and I find you flirting with that Regie guy." he fights back I rolled my eyes "Oh please, you are such a hypocrite. I did come back and I found you all up that one girl." I should've bit my tongue while I was still able to "I don't even see the point of why it matters you are not my boyfriend." He rolls his eyes and says "Ya you are right we are not dating whatever we had is just a fling or whatever." "Fuck you Vinnie." I said walking away.

[magenta-embers]

My Jikook Journey

Part 2 of my intro.

From "multi-shipper" to "...wait a goddamn minute."

This will be a messy and detail-lacking overview because I could easily do an individual post on each thing I mention here and delve deeper (AMA!).

When I became an ARMY in 2018, I was excited about the treasure trove of fanfics now available to me. The ship didn't really matter, but my bias was/is Jimin (bias wrecker Tae then) so the very first fic I read was a vmin camping one (there was only one sleeping bag, gasp!). For me, shipping meant I'd read fanfics or save fanart of certain pairs together because in a fictional sense/in another universe, they make a good couple. I think this is a healthy approach, keeping that boundary between reality and fiction.

When I mentioned to my k-pop fan step-sister that I was reading vmin, she gave me a weird look. She said taekook is THE ship of BTS, which confused me because vmin seemed to be closer and have better chemistry than Tae and JK. Turns out, she was right. Searching by most kudos on ao3, you get a shit ton of taekook. I accepted it readily and just thought I must be missing something since I was a baby ARMY, so I read those super popular fics and started to enjoy taekook too. I started to focus more on them because... it felt like that was what I was supposed to do.

It's a common problem, isn't it? Baby ARMY who are open to shipping are quickly found and "guided" to taekook before they have a chance to glance in another direction. If they try, taekookers, who are the majority in the shipping sphere, will convince them that taekook is THE ship. Even if they aren't ARMY (my step-sister), they know that much. As a new fan, you just want to fit in, so you'll go along with what's most popular. Some people eventually find their own way, but many don't. Asking questions is vital, but if you do it aloud, you risk getting attacked by a small but extremely aggressive portion of the most infamous fanbase.

Even back then while just innocently reading any well-written fic I could get my hands on, I noticed that Jungkook was usually portrayed as a lot edgier and darker than he really was (manifested the 2023 JK aesthetic) and Taehyung was constantly portrayed as... Jimin. Especially in fan art. For some reason, a lot of the time, the appearance/vibe/personality of Taehyung was truer to Jimin than to himself, and that confused me. "Why not just make it Jungkook x Jimin?" I kept seeing them trying to force Taehyung into the dynamic that Jimin has with Jungkook when their own dynamic was perfectly fine.

Slipping down the pipeline, I started to watch taekook moments/analysis videos because I thought gotta be missing something, right? That's how I found out people are convinced they're dating, and it wasn't just a fun fic/art thing. The videos themselves were... something. There were just way too many red circles, too much slow-mo, and too much mind-reading going on for me to take any of it seriously. Plus, the moments that weren't exaggerated were just close friend skinship. Hell, Taejin were doing more sus shit together than taekook.

And yet people insist on taekook even when taekook do nothing to insist on themselves.

At this point, it was deep into 2019. Jikook were wilding in 2019. Even I was noticing all the... little things that made me raise an eyebrow. The touches that lingered just too long in rather intimate areas, the fond/awed looks at each other, the shameless flirting, the complete lack of physical boundaries, and the normalness of it all between them. That's telling. Even though I was mainly a taekooker with a shit ton of fanart and fics saved to my phone, if you looked at my liked YouTube videos around that time, I had jikook moments videos saved, not taekook, because their moments were just more fun/juicier to watch overall. They just interacted differently than they did with other members.

A quick example would be a video compilation of taekook holding hands. Sure, they're holding hands, maybe even interlocking fingers, but they're usually standing side by side and looking in different directions or just having a neutral expression. But if you watch a jikook one, not only is it much longer, but it's just different. I feel like I'm interrupting sometimes. Even in such a simple action like holding hands, there's a softness, an intimacy there that doesn't exist in taekook. Jikook wouldn't just be holding hands (usually for absolutely no reason), they'd be looking into each other's eyes, smiling sweetly, fully turned toward each other, attention completely captured by the other. How can I explain the look in their eyes? It just doesn't exist with vmin, yoonmin, jihope, etc.

Sidebar: All of those pairs have flirty/sus moments as most really close friendship dynamics do, but they're lighthearted to me and never invoked a true sense of.... whoa whoa whoa, hang on. If Jungkook and Jimin were my close friends IRL and I saw the way they are together, my alarms would go off. As either, "Oh my god, they're fucking," or "Oh my god, they wanna fuck each other." People always say, "Oh, Jimin's like that with everyone." No. No, he's not. Pay attention. Really pay attention to the differences in the dynamics between members. None of them have the "same" relationship. Especially pay attention to how the rest of the members react to Jikook.

Anyway,

So here I was noticing this... deeper intimacy in simple interactions with those two (because I'm a human being with eyes and life experience), and yet my Twitter timeline would just dismiss them entirely. "I love their friendship," "Wow their brotherhood is so beautiful," and "They're all so close," and normally these statements wouldn't bother me because technically they're true, but I started noticing that taekook or yoonmin would brush shoulders and everyone would be like, "Omg taekook/yoonmin married/boyfriends/real," over nothing. Their moments are cute/sweet/funny, but never more than that. The blatant hypocrisy did frustrate me a little, but ultimately I didn't overthink it; I didn't want to be delulu or look too deeply into anything because I still thought I must be missing something. Taekook is the most popular for a reason, right? Right?

But Taekook died for me when Tae told Taekookers to get out of their imagination. I respected that from him and took it at face value. It was the most aggressive shutdown of shipping we've ever had. I couldn't brush him off. It's disrespectful. He's uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, over the next couple of years, Jungkook and Jimin only got more suspicious in the minor interactions and in the big staple moments. Rosebowl. Hickeygate. Etc. Everyone was bending over backward trying to explain away the things these two did with each other, and it's always the same excuses. I was also trying extremely hard to think of any reason other than the simplest one because I didn't want to be delulu.

Because there was no way two members of a boyband were actually in a long-term relationship together. Especially in a conservative country.

Ridiculous. Unrealistic. Delulu.

I was basically telling myself in a mirror that they were just extra super duper close friends with muddy boundaries that meant sucking ears and giving neck hickeys was okay. I did allow there to be the thought that, maybe they're friends with benefits and that unavoidable intimacy now bleeds through into their regular interactions.

That opinion carried until 2023.

Isn't that funny?

2023.

The year so many jikookers gave up and bemoaned that those two weren't close anymore or had broken up is the year that finally convinced me.

What tipped me over?

Jungkook's vlives.

The way he kept watching videos of Jimin when he could just phone him. It reminded me of me watching Jimin, but I'm just a fan; I watch those videos because it's the only way I can appease my yearning to be close to and connected to Jimin, and absorb everything that he does or says or is.

Jungkook doesn't have that limitation, so why's he sitting there like a lovesick puppy with the fondest/most loving eyes when he could have Jimin over with just a call? Why's he sitting there looking like he's also yearning for something he can't have like us, the fans, when he can have it? He has Jimin's number. You don't need to watch yourself tease Jimin. You can just go do it. Just text him, bro.

It felt like he just wanted to bask in Jimin without interruption, without distraction, without having to force his attention elsewhere. Beyond being incredibly sweet, it also felt like Jungkook was making a statement, a point, because he kept doing it. Why? Is he somehow obsessed with his friend and bandmate whom he's seen almost every day for over a decade? If it was to promote him, he really didn't have to do all that? He didn't do it for the others, not to that extent.

Watching Jimin, talking about Jimin, singing Jimin's songs, fkn playing Letter on guitar. (The naked vlive flirting session? Lord, what.)

The man kept having vlives with a significant Jimin focus. He insisted on it enough times that it felt like he was trying to slap some sense into me. His insistence bothered me enough for me to finally do a deep dive into jikook.

Down the rabbit hole, I went. The more I learned, the more my jaw dropped. Where the fuck was all this info on my timeline when these motherfuckers were celebrating the most basic kpop boy interactions as if they were wedding vows? I even ended up seeing pictures/info we as fans were never meant to see at the bottom of that hole. If you know, you know.

Eventually, I ended up on this video (bless this fucking channel).

I want everyone to understand that I had zero knowledge of established relationship timeline theories. I went into this video blind, just trying to find the point in time when JK started to warm up to Jimin. That's not what I found. I found something so much better.

Especially 2013-2015 had me in awe. I think I cried. Jimin and Jungkook had a fattest, cutest mutual crush on each other. Absolutely. And because they were young, not that famous, and still rookies with media and camera training, we get a lot of insight into those two that we wouldn't get in later years when they learned how to mask and behave more "idol"-like. Jimin was especially loud, almost sadly loud. If you haven't watched the timeline of at least those early years, I implore you to. It actually blew my mind and broke/healed my heart. It's really bittersweet to see two teenage boys with little to no experience in anything romantic trying to come to terms with themselves while also coming to terms with each other. It's like watching a coming-of-age romance movie.

I saw clear shifts from when the relationship hit turning points in certain years. I proposed a timeline in my head based on that. Imagine my fucking surprise when I found out other people have also come up with timelines, and more surprising yet, they were all unbelievably similar to mine, down to what changed in what half of the year. I, who had no previous knowledge that this was even a thing. I just noticed it all on my own. We were all seeing the same thing. The same changes. No red circles, no slow-mo, no mind reading. It's all in the body language.

I panicked a little because overall it seemed too good to be true, so I reached out to a taekooker friend to send me her best evidence videos and receipts because I just had to make sure I wasn't going totally delulu here. I needed to see that the other biggest ship had interactions and moments on the same level with that same consistency, maybe even their very own relationship timeline to bring me back down to Earth. But... there's nothing. Really, there's nothing between taekook. Not one moment where I was like, oh? You'll find hours-long jikook content videos that are absolutely jam-packed with content, significant content, but that sort of depth just doesn't exist for taekook. Instead, you get conspiracy theories.

I watched most of the videos on that best of jikook channel and several other staple channels. It wasn't as if I bought into everything presented. I still rolled my eyes at many things that were blown out of proportion by some creators, and jikook isn't free from red circles and slow-mo and bullshit. And yet, I was still overwhelmed by the mountain of crisp receipts dumped on my head.

Jikook have much, much more solid evidence supporting the theory that they are together than evidence against it. I took the facts as they are, took my social experiences for what they are, took my psychology background for what it is, and concluded that they are most likely together, probability-wise. At the very least, they are the ONLY pair in BTS that have ANY legitimate possibility of being romantically involved. If jikook isn't real, then none of the other ships have any hope whatsoever, let's not kid ourselves. It's them or none of them.

They also have much, much more evidence that they are together than with any random man or woman you wanna throw at them. There needs to be valuable evidence or a total shutdown for me to tip the scale. I'm going to need Jimin or Jungkook to state, "I am not dating anyone at all," or "Get out of your imagination," or a bighit relationship announcement, or a clear video of lip-on-lip action or very intimate interaction with someone else.

Frankly, I don't give a single fuck about a grainy pic/video when it's 2023 and there's no excuse for that. I don't give a fuck who owns the same vase or cooking pots. I don't give a fuck if either of them hugged a woman. These are not evidence. These aren't even as good as the worst Jikook evidence.

At this point in time, Jikook is still the only viable option with the information we currently have available to us. This is my opinion and I stand by it.

At the end of the day, the thing I want most is for Jimin to be happy. Currently, it seems that Jungkook makes Jimin the happiest (as Jungkook says). As long as that holds true, I'll be here. If that changes at some point in time, I'd accept it.

But until that day comes, what the fuck else am I supposed to think?

E.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 3: mirror sex

stray kids 1.5k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Bang Chan NSFW

🖤 warnings: undernegotiated kink, implied consent, themes of negative body image🖤

🎂 happy bang chan day~

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

Truly, these are the dangers of not pre-booking a place to stay.

Last-minute travel isn't usually your thing, but an unexpectedly long weekend means that there's finally time in your favorite guy's backbreaking schedule for a little getaway.

But last-minute travel, with no hotel booked, means love motels.

They're not as creepy as they sound, not usually dirty or weird. Inexpensive, yes, and usually a little older than the resorts and boutiques that most people prefer. They get a bad rap just because of the connotations, but like, people have sex in all kinds of hotels.

You think it's kind of cool, honestly. Homey, in a weird way.

The person at the front desk is a nice older lady, and she doesn't even blink as she asks if the two of you have any plans this weekend.

"Plans outside the room, I mean."

She winks. She's not subtle, but it's sweet.

And now, in the elevator, Chan is looking around in unmasked horror. Taking in the garish burgundy interior, the thinly-veiled adverts for sex workers taped to the walls.

"It's not that bad," you say.

"It'll be fine for two nights," Chan replies, sounding as if he doesn't believe that at all. "Anyway, we're only sleeping here. We'll have stuff to do."

"Oh, come on. We might as well put the place to its intended use."

Chan scoffs, as if the idea of using the sex motel for sex is ridiculous.

"As long as the room's clean, that's all I care about," you continue. "It's a hotel. Whatever."

"Whatever," Chan agrees tentatively.

He's still lying to himself, but he does relax a little.

When you get to your floor, things are extremely normal. Nondescript hotel decor, the faint smell of carpet cleaning solution and lemon furniture polish. Cleaner than other places you've stayed for far more money, honestly.

The room itself is at the end of the hall, which you like, for the privacy, even though there are only five or six rooms on the floor.

You let yourself into the room, and it's as clean and fresh as the rest of the hall. Again, about as good as it gets in terms of a cheap hotel.

"See?" you say.

Chan looks at you, clearly unimpressed.

"What? It's clean. I'll check for bedbugs, but other than that..."

He points upward.

There is a giant mirror stuck to the ceiling above the bed, but nowhere is perfect.

"Even that's clean," you joke.

The surface of the glass is spotless, no fingerprints and not even any dust that you can see from down here. Chan still looks unhappy. Cleanliness is obviously not his concern.

"Don't be a downer," you say.

"Why do people like that?" he grumbles.

You've set your bag down on the armchair in the corner of the room, rifling through it for your toiletries to set out in the bathroom, but you humor him without looking. "Like what?"

"The mirrors."

"In the room?" you glance at him. "Isn't that, like, the sex motel cliche? The heart shaped bed, the red lights, the mirrors?"

This room only has one of the above. Pretty tame.

"It just means you have to - I mean, you can already see your partner, why would you need-"

"You're really thinking about this," you interrupt.

He is. He really is, standing beside the bed and staring up at his own reflection pensively.

"It's so you can see yourself," you add, walking past with your armload of cosmetics.

From in the bathroom, you hear his answer, still pouty.

"Why would I wanna do that?"

Oh, here we go.

"Some people get off on it," you say.

He scoffs a laugh, humorless. You're being generous by not calling him out, here, because he's being self-deprecating. You hate that.

"I'm gonna terrify myself in the middle of the night," he says.

That might be true. He's a little bit of a scaredy-cat. But that's beside the point.

"That's not your actual problem, though," you reply, as you come back into the room proper.

He shrugs.

"Haven't you ever been curious?" you ask.

"About what I look like?" he shoots back, glancing back up at the mirror. "Done. Wow."

"I mean during."

Immediately, like flipping a switch, his ears flame pink. "Not really."

"No? Never?"

He looks at you pointedly. He knows what you're doing. You're not subtle, so that's fine.

"We should find out," you say, grinning.

It's a challenge, now.

Your gorgeous, gorgeous boy hates how he looks. That's common knowledge for anyone who's tried to get him to take a photo together, or shop for clothes, or compliment him on a new haircut. Most of your mutual friends just ignore it. But sometimes you just can't stand it.

He would never be the type to want to see himself in the mirror in the throes of passion, uninhibited. Which is exactly why he needs to give it a try.

"How easy do you think I am?" he accuses, correctly.

"I dunno." Instead of bothering him more, you flop down onto the bed yourself, feet still on the floor, staring up at your reflection. "You tell me."

The bait is laid, and like always, his insatiable ass can't help it. You two haven't had proper alone time in what feels like forever. He nudges between your knees, standing over you as you lay there on your back. You already like the look of the scene in the mirror, the way that his reflected form looms, the way it makes you look small.

"You know," Chan says, "We could put this place to its intended use."

You grin at your own words recycled. Great minds and all that.

"What an idea."

"Just an idea," he assures you.

He drops onto his knees, nudging you up the mattress to make room for himself.

You almost lose track of your own plan, once he kisses you. Hands roam, clothes are lost, the ease and comfort of something you've done so many times. For a while, it's just an encounter like all the others. His hands that know you, his warmth and presence and attention.

And then you remember, suddenly, once you're nude and he is too, and he's asking you how you want it.

"You on your back," you say, trying not to smile at your own ingeniousness and reveal the plan.

"You got it, baby."

He flips over, and he's settled fully into the pillows with you halfway onto his lap before he looks up. He looks up at the ceiling, and he realizes.

"Wait-"

"Gotcha," you smirk, settling fully on top of him.

He could very easily just knock you over and change things up, or he could ask you to stop, and of course, you would. But he doesn't. He just flushes, red again down his ears, his neck, and he covers his face with his hands.

"That's not gonna work," you say, peeling his fingers away from his eyes.

"I can't believe you tricked me," he says pitifully.

"I did no such thing," you reply. "But now that we're here, why don't we play a game?"

"Something tells me I won't like this game."

"Here's the rules," you say.

You pause long enough to rise onto your knees, to seek out his length - desperately hard, revealing that you haven't freaked him out too badly - and line him up.

"I'm gonna make us feel good. And you...have to look."

Chan pouts, putting his full lips to good use. "I'd rather look at you. Don't you want me to look at you?"

He punctuates it by running his hands up your back, hips to shoulder blades, soothing attention from gentle fingertips.

"I think you should look at yourself," you tell him.

"But-"

"Actually, no. I think you have to look at yourself," you decide.

He peeks upward. His flush deepens.

You're not sure why he doesn't like what he sees. From where you are, it's stunning. His slim body lines, the sharp cut of his face and his dark eyes against the bleached-white hotel sheets. Distractibly, biteably pink and embarrassed.

"If you don't look at yourself," you add, dropping your hips just enough so that he can feel you, "I'll stop."

He looks overdramatically betrayed, like a dog when you take their toy away to throw it. It's cute enough that you reach down to squeeze his face in your hand.

"That's the game," you say.

"Fine."

His voice is an embarrassed squeak, but that's consent, baby. You trust him enough to know that although he hates losing, he's not going to yes you to death if things are actually feeling uncool.

Permission granted, and his eyes dutifully trained on the ceiling, you ease yourself down onto his waiting length.

Curiously, once you're seated and he's swearing through his teeth, you tilt your head up to look at yourself, too. The angle isn't as good to see you, but you've got the gist of it. Your spread thighs, your arched back, the little bit of motion as you grind on top of him.

Nice.

"Don't we look good?" you ask, sweet as can be.

He nods against the pillow. "You look-"

"Not me," you tut. "You're not supposed to be looking at me."

Chan swears. You wait.

"I...I look..."

After a second, he swallows, and squeezes his eyes shut.

Pity.

You pull back up onto your knees. His wet cock slips free.

"I told you the rules. Keep looking at you."

[inconsistent-kuroshitsuji-blog]

Can I request Sebastian with a gender neutral s/o (or master) who had a mental breakdown bcs of math and acted like nothing happened infront of him? (I'm gonna lose my mind over math)

My dearie, of course. I know, it has been a while, but now I am here. (That sounded like I'm some sort god-figure.) I'm about 90% sure that I have completely lost my mind over math and have no way of getting it back.

Sebastian comforting you after you lose your mind over your math homework

When the fuck did math get letters? Why does math need letters? Why must it make a problem out of everything? Who cares at what degree a certain angle of a roof of a weird art exhibition is. Why should you care at what height a discoball is located if a laser hits it at a certain angle? And who even thinks of such ridiculous problems?

Advanced education? More like an advanced headache. You've sat here at your desk for about three hours, longer than you planned to. You were just trying to do your homework, but nothing was working out. The numbers didn't add up, you don't even know where to start at. It is all too much, too much at once, you just can't handle it anymore.

Throwing away your pencil, you start sobbing over that darned piece of paper. What is this supposed to teach you? Well, nothing that matters to you, of course, yet you're still forced to keep up with algebra and geometry and analysis, totally useless in your daily life. If only these problems were solvable with tears. The only thing they do for you right now is smudge your already hastily written tasks and solutions. Oh, how you hate this. You can only hate this. How could you ever do anything else-?

Your door opens. What now? Who has come to bother you at your lowest point of the day?

"Is everything alright, my dear?", you hear, yet you don't look up. You don't have to do so to know who is there. You'd recognise his gentle voice in a crowded room full of people who don't know how to properly adjust their voice volume. You also want to save yourself from the embarrassment of him seeing your puffy red eyes. So you only mumble something into your arm, something along the lines of "Maybe, I don't know, leave me alone.".

But he didn't. Of course he didn't leave, he never really does what you tell him to. Just like his beloved cats, Sebastian does what he feels like doing at any given point. So if he wants to physically see your tears for his amusement, he will watch them slowly run down your cheeks. You hear how he places something infront of you.

"If everything truly was alright, you'd show me your beautifull face. So, look up for me.". That snarky bastard. You'd hate him for that if you didn't love him more. So you slowly look up to him, eyes all puffy and swollen. "See? I'm fine.". You finally realised he placed a batch of biscuits infront of you, freshly made of course. Sebastian looks down at you with that smirk he always seems to have on his face. "Well, I don't believe you. You're a bad liar, kitten. What is troubling you?". He doesn't even wait for your answer, he just looks down and responds with a little "Ah.". He saw everything he needed to see.

"Is your scholarship too hard on you again? Or is it you being too hard on yourself?", he asked while sitting down next to you. He seemingly tries to make out what you wrote, but it is simply incomprehensible thanks to your tears. "I told you already, it's nothing. Just some stupid problems. As if I would've brought them to class anyway..."

"Frustrated, are we?". "Shut it...", you deliberately look away, yet he pulls you into his arms and starts to stroke your head. "Now, no need to cry over silly made up numbers and problems. Rest your head for now.". Sebastian slightly nudges your head onto his chest. Maybe he's right. You should take a little break, just for now.

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Phew, finally something fresh on my paige. As you can guess, I'm well and alive, more alive than well but alive nonetheless. I'll see how I can get back on track. But until then, I will fulfill the meaning of my name by disappearing suddenly and reappearing again. Like a little ghost.

Until then~

Your Inconsistent Kuroshitsuji Blog~