#but it may be a sign of youre sticking around in these tags that maybe youd be happier if you were more than that

[implied-divinity]

im feeling sappy tonight. shoutout to the baby tboys begging to be forcemasced. one day you will become the man you want to be. within the kink its wonderful when another man grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you headfirst in. its wonderful to share in the joy he felt when he started. in reality know youre afraid. it takes guts to let yourself be who you want. dont take your feelings lightly and let yourself explore. you are not alone but its also up to you. take care. much love.

[beomcoups]

Legal Briefs

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lawyer!Dokyeom x fem!reader 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pwp, corporate au, 18+, non-idol au 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, riding, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names, slight exhibitionism, oral (m. receiving), clit stimulation, squirting 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.1k 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dokyeom is stressed out over his case, and you use your brain in more ways than one to help him relax.

AN: Thank you to @miabebe for beta reading this for me at the last minute and @miniseokminnies being lovely. This is a repost, as this fic was originally written for another idol. I have decided to edit it and make it fit Dokyeom more. I hope you enjoy it <3. Also, tagging @onlyseokmins because that's your man, duh, lol. If you want to be tagged in future fics, sign up here🤎

Dokyeom is one of the most prominent corporate lawyers in your country, and you understand how hard he works daily to maintain that reputation. You were a lawyer when you met him, so you know the ins and outs of the legalities and how stressful it can be defending clients. Your first time seeing him was at a kickboxing gym you both frequented and then on the opposite end of the court, duking it out to protect your clients involved in a breach of contract. You may have won that battle, but in the end, Dokyeom won your heart, and you left the corporate life behind to be a housewife. 

You walk into the swanky thirty-floor office building, and the security guard greets you as you approach the elevator. You are holding Dokyeom’s favorite lunch, pizza with cheese sticks, secured in a heated lunch box. You also brought fruit and juice, which he has been into lately. It’s a nice day outside, and what would be better than spending lunch with your husband?

You hum your way up to the 20th floor, greeted by the receptionists as the elevator doors open. The anticipation is building, and the excitement and butterflies in your stomach are brewing as you make your way to his office. You speak to everyone that makes eye contact with you. Everyone knows you as the boss’s wife, a hotshot lawyer, giving it all up for love. 

“Hi,” his secretary greets you nervously as you approach her desk. “He seems a bit stressed out today. That case with the pharmaceutical company isn’t going well, and I’m pretty sure I heard papers flying around.”

This concerns you, as it is different from Dokyeom to lose his cool like that. You thank her and tap quietly on the office door, waiting to hear his voice before entering. 

“Yes?” His smooth voice makes your heart jump. 

You open the door, and your eyes widen at the scene before you. There are papers and folders all over the floor. Dokyeom is lying on the sofa, his suit jacket covering his face and his arms folded on his chest.

“I take it you’re having a bad day?” You ask gently, setting the lunch down on his desk.

His face lights up when he lays his eyes on you, jacket falling to the floor as he jumps up to greet you. 

“I wasn’t expecting you here,” he replies before getting up and kissing your cheek. “I would’ve cleaned up.”  

“And miss all this drama?” you tease him. “Come on, I’ll help you put everything back.”

You survey the papers and put the files back in their folders. You know where everything goes because you helped him set up his file system to make his life easier. You may not be practicing law right now, but it doesn’t mean you haven’t had to use your expertise a few times to help your husband win a few cases. You initially quit your previous firm because you felt burnt out and needed a break. Then, when you got married, you wanted to spend time being a new wife and try for a family. Dokyeom supported you in all of that. He never made you feel inferior or less than for stepping away from your career to be at home. Now, it’s been two years, and the children haven’t come yet, but maybe it’s just not time, as lately, you have been missing practicing law.

Dokyeom helps you and profusely apologizes. “You don’t need to apologize,” you wave him off. But this is not like you; what happened?”

His expression changes, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. He takes a deep breath before putting the last envelope into the bookshelf. 

“I am missing a critical piece of evidence, a part of a contract that proves my client’s innocence,” Dokyeom begins, clutching onto the desk. “I know who to subpoena, but the judge is being a real asshole and won’t allow me to access those documents. So my client might lose, and then they’ll drop me, which means bye to our house.”

He removes his tie and takes a sip from his water bottle, his Adam's apple shifting as he gulps. Your very frustrated husband is also very hot, and it’s taking all your willpower to stay on task.

“Listen,” you redirect your focus to his problem. “There’s no guarantee that you will lose this case, and we definitely are not losing our house. Why don’t you eat the lunch I brought, and we will figure it out, okay?”

He nods and kisses you on the forehead, his way of saying thank you that still makes you feel warm inside. You watch him take out his lunch, and you start to eat yours, making small talk about your day as you dig through the cheese sticks. 

“When did you order this, babe?” Dokyeom asks, mouth stuffed with pepperoni and cheese. “You were cleaning up when I left for work.”

“I ordered it right before I came up here,” you say proudly, feeding him some of your pizza. “I got tired of eating lunch alone and wanted to see you. Looks like you needed me too.”

He gives you a kind smile that soothes your soul like a warm hug. You talk more about the case as you clear out your food containers. Dokyeom mentions that he has been trying to get the evidence to no avail for the past week. Watching him stressing himself out bothers you, as you know how hard he has worked on this case, and you want to see him succeed. His eyes were glued to the papers in front of him, skimming over everything to find a possible loophole. You can’t help but take in how handsome he looks, focused on his work, his jaw clenching as his frustration mounts. 

So, you came up with an idea.

“Hey, babe,” you get his attention, removing your cardigan. “I’m going to help you relax, okay?”

He nods, his shoulders still tense up from reading over the paperwork. You move behind him, relaxing your hands on his shoulders before you massage them, making him feel more at ease. You start unbuttoning his shirt, reaching down to rub his chest while leaving kisses on his neck.

“Well, this is one way to do it,” Dokyeom hums, setting down his pen. He moves his head and kisses you deeply, his hands gracing your face softly, pulling you deeper into his rapture of love. You make a move to sit on his lap, taking off your tank top and exposing your favorite bra that pushes up your breasts just right. 

“Was this always the plan?” He smirks, leaving kisses down your neck. His lips suck on your sweet-tasting skin, his tongue trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

“And if it was?” You move in front of him, sitting on his lap, and your skirt hikes over your hips. “What are you going to do about it?”

He chuckles and kisses you more, removing your bra and throwing it across the office. You lift and reach down, undoing his pants and lowering his briefs, feeling the growing bulge hardening along your slit. “No panties? Aw, baby…”

“What?” You smiled coyly. “Do you want me to leave? I can just get up—”

“W-what? No, no, it’s not that,” his cheeks turn pink in a panic. “I hate to rush, but I have to be in a meeting in twenty minutes,” Dokyeom’s breathing hitches as his hand touches his manhood, stroking his thick girth to your naked breasts and exposed ass. You lower yourself until you are on your knees, moving his hand away as you take over. You kiss his dick just the way he likes it, his legs tensing up as you take him in your mouth. His thickness takes over your mouth as you suck him good, your free hand playing with your clit as you watch him cock his head back and curse softly. 

“Baby, you are so good at this,” he murmurs. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

He gently fucks your face, pacing himself so he doesn’t blow his entire load down your throat. Your eyes lock with his as you take him in deeper, drops of saliva spilling out of the corner of your mouth. Dokyeom is ashamed to admit it, but he likes it when you look like this: the makeup on your sweet face ruined with tears because you sucked him off so well. You would never tell him this, but you love how he tastes. The way his smooth cock hits the back of your throat makes you dripping wet, and if you keep up any longer, you will cum on this floor. 

“H-honey,” he sputters. “I have 15 minutes. Get on top.”

You slowly take him out of your mouth with a pop, lifting yourself and positioning yourself to sink into him. You both groan in unison when you are entirely on his lap, your nails digging into the armrest of his chair.

“This won’t take long, I promise,” you mutter, giving yourself a few seconds to get used to his size before slowly grinding on him and enjoying the feeling of him being inside of you. His body tenses at your movements and his fingers massage your clit softly. You unexpectedly let out a loud moan, and he covers your mouth with his hand.

“I know this feels good, bouncing on my hard dick, but you are going to have to keep it down, princess,” he grits. 

Dokyeom knows what that does to you, calling you princess as he fucks you into an earth-shattering orgasm. You’re a squirter, and he knows that, so it was unsurprising that your lower halves were covered with your essence. Your eyes never leave each other, whispering I love you and trading meaningful kisses. Dokyeom’s head rolls back, whispering songs of praise as you continue to ride him on his office chair. 

“Baby, I’m close,” he whines, his hands gripping your hips. You grind on him hard, finding your clit and releasing again shortly after. Dokyeom follows right behind you, spilling deep inside of you as his head buries deep into your neck. As he slows down, he kisses you lovingly, making sure your cunt is full of his cum before pulling out. You're still trying to catch your breath when you climb off of him to clean yourself up. 

“Mr Lee?” His secretary’s voice booms through the speaker, startling you both. “Your meeting starts in five minutes.”

“O-okay.”

You can see the time on his laptop, and the 5-minute reminder before the meeting stops flashing wildly on his screen. You find your bra and hurriedly put it on, with Dokyeom already dressed and holding your tank top and cardigan.

“What?” You catch him staring at you curiously. 

“You are so bad.” “Well, isn’t that why you fell in love with me? Aside from me beating your ass in court, of course.”

You finish getting dressed, helping him put his tie back on, and kissing him goodbye before heading out the door. You catch a photo you missed picking up earlier, and something catches your eye that makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Babe.” You pick up the photograph and inspect it thoroughly. “What’s the name of the judge?”

“Judge Choi,” he responds, preparing himself for his meeting. “Why?”

“This wouldn’t happen to be the judge in the 17th court, would it?

You pull out your phone and look him up, confirming your suspicions. 

“Okay, I know that look,” Dokyeom comments, a puzzled look on his face. “What’s up?” 

“This judge used to give me shit when I was practicing, but I always found a way to get around him,” you start. “There was talk about him being a crooked judge and being paid off by companies, but I could never confirm it until now. Look at the picture.”

You show him the photograph of the rival company at an event, pointing at the missing piece of the puzzle: the judge and the company’s CEO, arm in arm, taking a picture. “That’s why the judge is shutting you down, babe,” you confirm. “He has ties to the other guys. Judge Choi should have recused himself a long time ago.”

Dokyeom looks at you, amazed that his wife could figure out why he had this roadblock. “God, what would I do without you?”

“You’d still be losing to me in court.” You kiss him goodbye again, letting him prepare to attend his meeting. You close the door, and his secretary smiles at you and motions for you to come closer to her. 

“You should be more careful in there, dear,” she advises. “The whole office heard you.”

[the-kr8tor]

Hi! I've just got back to ATSV and your Hobie fics made me felt like a school girl giggling to myself 😭🤍

I don't know if you still open for request but you may ignore if you feel uncomfortable!

I was thinking about long distance relationship with Hobie, maybe they met in some dating app ( I know this felt weird but like imagine him being bored and randomly download it for fun but then met the love of his life lol )

And one day Reader decided to surprise him on one of his concert 👀

Aww you're so sweet! Thank you so much! I hope you like this, sorry for the wait ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, band au, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

When your long distance partner said that he's in a band, you never expected that he's in one of those bands that plays in sold out venues. Granted that the concert also has other bands playing on the same day in different schedules, nonetheless his band is the one that's headlining the entire charity event. The venue is open air, trees lined around the park with dozens of booths selling merch, and overpriced burritos. At least the free water makes up for the expensive food and the long lines to the port-a-potty.

People are all dressed up for the event walk past you, they're in a complete ensemble, spikes, knee high boots, fishnets and hair that is taller than the luggage you're lugging around. It's safe to say that you stick out like a sore thumb in your comfortable airport clothes. If not then all the stares you're getting is because you have a huge bug on your face or something on your teeth. Maybe you should've gone with your original plan of waiting outside his houseboat like a creep.

You exhale, gathering your courage just like back when you were buying the plane ticket to Camdem. Clutching your bag tightly, you head off to the baggage lockers on the side to drop off your weekend bag before showing your concert ticket to the tired employee.

With a few flight delays on your belt, you were afraid that you'd miss his set. But lo and behold, the second you stepped foot inside, the loud booming speakers are announcing his band. You make your mad dash towards the front of the stage, excitement and trepidation fueling you while you practically squeeze yourself in between the growing crowd. After a few apologies to some people you've accidentally elbowed, you finally make it at the front with only a few bruises here and there. You don't care about the aches the second you see him appear from backstage.

Hobie, your long distance partner of two years and a half is finally in front of you. Well a few feet away from you as there's a bannister and a huge security guy guarding the fences. And yet, you haven't been this close to holding him. Signing up for a dating site wasn't your greatest moment but you're glad you did, if you hadn't, you might've not met the love of your life. You're also glad that his friends dared him into signing up, you feel incredibly lucky that the stars aligned for the two of you to meet.

His band waves to the crowd, faces you've come accustomed to whenever he brings you (his phone while you video call him) to band practices and hangouts throughout the years. Dare you say that they've become your friends too, if not for them encouraging you to finally buy that ticket to surprise Hobie, you wouldn't be standing here with your hands gripping tightly on the railings.

He looks amazing under the bright lights, the spotlight highlights all his best features. Clad in leather, spikes and metal, seeing him behind your phone screen doesn't prepare you for the real thing.

With stars in your eyes, you grin widely. Yet you don't call for him so you don't distract him. Instead, you listen to the first song as Hobie plays a familiar guitar riff. You unabashedly ogle him while you listen to the song you've personally seen the development of.

Sweaty, eyes strained to see him through the spotlight while your ears ring— you probably don't look your best while the crowd pushes the fences wildly. Maybe you should've thought this through, or at least wore something nicer.

Hobie still hasn't seen you amidst the crowd. Continuing to jump and somersault effortlessly around the stage while fans scream and screech his name out. You once again stick out like a sore thumb while you stay in place when everyone else is jumping up and down to the beat. Seeing the lone anomaly, Hobie shields his eyes from the lights to get a good look at the supposed disgruntled fan. He never expected to see your face, his heart feels like it stopped for a second, he tumbles towards a wire that trips him and in turn launches him towards a small amp that also trips him and makes him land flat on his face. If not for his quick reflexes, he might've broken his nose on stage.

The crowd makes an empathetic sound as silence spreads throughout the venue. Some reach out to him as if they would've caught him mid air, and you're one of those people. With a wince, you watch him sit up, trying his best to act cool while he's tangled around numerous wires. He looks silly and lovestruck at the same time when his eyes meet your own. Your name falls off his lips, eyes sparkling under the red spotlights.

You give him a small wave, smiling bashfully at the punk on stage. A stage hand helps him untangle himself while Ned helps back up on his feet. All the while, his eyes never left your form.

“Wanna take five, loverboy?” Ned whispers, patting his best mate on the back. “Fuckin' hell you're bleeding.” The crowd cheers as blood ebbs out.

Even with crimson flowing out of his nostril, pain ebbing through his face, he still manages to grin back at you. “Yeah, make that ten, Ned.” he clasps his hand on Ned's shoulder without leaving his eyes on you. You wink at him. “Better yet, make that twenty.”

Ned rolls his eyes, calling for the medics before gesturing towards you to come around backstage.

—

An organizer gives you a backstage pass, letting you roam around the performers area freely. You play with the lace as your nerves get the best of you. You kinda feel bad for being the cause of the delay, but when your darting eyes see his familiar silhouette, it all melts away.

“Can I get an autograph?” You say, standing under the medical tent while a paramedic tends to his bleeding nose. His head whips towards you so fast, you were afraid that he'd break his neck. “Hi, Hobie.”

A giddy grin spreads on his face, standing up from the plastic chair with tissue paper stuck up his nose. “Hello, love.”

You giggle, crossing the small distance, hands reaching to his sides, waiting for him to hold you. Hobie wraps his fingers gently around your wrists, pulling you close. Toe to toe, he guides your hands on his waist.

“You're taller than I expected.” You utter with fondness, fingers splayed over his shirt, eyes etching his face into the folds of your mind.

“You have legs, and feet attached to your legs.” He says nervously, biting his lip from grinning too widely. “You're as fit as I thought you would be.” Chortling, you pat his chest. Realizing that the tissue papers are still stuck up his nose, he yanks them away quickly, hiding it inside his back pocket as if nothing happened. “You surprised me.”

“That was very dignified of you, Hobs.”

Chuckling, he does what he always wanted to do; hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Was that a deal breaker?”

You scoff playfully, leaning into his touch as he embraces you fully, shyness melting off the both of you only to be replaced with affection. You do the same, face tucked on his neck. He smells like the perfume you sent him when he asked what perfume you always use. And in turn, you smell like his cologne he gifted you a week later.

“Nope, it actually made me more attracted to you.” You feel his knuckles trace circles around your back, nose pressed on your skin. “Sorry that I surprised you, and made you fall on your face in front of thousands of people.”

Hobie gives you a chaste kiss on your jaw before leaning away to cup your face. You feel like you're on cloud nine as he looks at you like you're everything to him.

“Nah, not even close to a thousand, lovie.” His thumb brushes along your cheeks, savoring your warmth like he always wanted to do. You smile, palms on his jacket lapels. “Y’know what's funny?”

“You landing flat on your face in front of hundreds of adoring fans?”

He pokes your side with a chuckle. “I'll never hear the end of that, huh?” You shake your head with a soft smile as he leans closer, you meet him halfway by pulling him by his jacket. “I bought a ticket to your place.” Your eyes widen, tearing up from his words. “I was supposed to fly after the concert and wait outside your flat like a bloody stalker.” Smiling, he closes the distance. “You beat me to it, love.”

“I won.” You kiss him just like how you imagined.

[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.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

One Little Mistake

Week #10 Prompt: "I'm a great driver!" | Word Count: 791 | Rating: T | POV: Dustin | Characters: Dustin, Steve, Mike, Lucas | CW: Language | Tags: Steve & Dustin, Steve Teaches Dustin To Drive, And Mike, And Lucas, God Help Him

"No, no, no, stop, stop, stop!" Steve screams from the passenger seat, and Dustin slams on the brakes, sure he's about to run over a litter of puppies or plow into a field trip from the local preschool or old folks' home.

"What? Where?" Dustin asks, looking all around, as Steve clings to the dashboard of his BMW.

"A stop sign, right there!" he points, and well, Dustin for sure didn't see that. There was a bush in the way. Well, a bush near it. Behind it. 

Semantics.

It doesn't matter. There was nobody coming, so it's not like they were gonna die. They've been in way worse situations than this together. Steve's just being a little overdramatic. 

"Well, shit," Dustin says, "that'd cost me points if this was my actual test."

"It'll cost your life if you crash my car, Henderson, pay attention!" Steve scolds, and it just rolls right off Dustin's back. Nothing Steve says sticks very long. In one ear, and out the other.

"You're never gonna pass driver's ed, we may as well just get your bike serviced and call it a day," Mike says from the back, and Dustin whips around in his seat. 

Steve can pick on him. Mike can't.

"Shut up! You didn't do any better!"

"He did a little better," Lucas mumbles, and Dustin sees Steve smile out of the corner of his eyes.

"Steve! You're my friend. You're gonna take their side? I'm a great driver!"

"You are not a great driver. Only Max is worse," Steve says. 

Dustin lets out an annoyed huff of breath. "For one, false. For two, Max wasn't even old enough to drive back then. She could barely even reach the pedals. So, that's decidedly unfair and unjust, dickhead."

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Just. Get out. Lesson over for today. I've met my threshold," Steve snaps, holding his hand over the top of his head, and then gets out of the car. 

Dustin could drive off, leaving him, but figures Steve will just be pissier than ever if he does. 

Dude can't take a joke anymore. They've had one apocalypse too many. 

"Ten more minutes!" Dustin wheedles. 

"No, no, no. No more. Not today," Steve says, holding open the driver's door, waiting for Dustin to get out. 

Only after Dustin's gotten out, does he realize that he didn't put it in park, only neutral, which means the car tries to roll away into the intersection, forcing Steve to hurry up and hop in, slamming on the brakes. Mike and Lucas both screaming in the backseat, like they haven't faced literal monsters.

Steve gives him a withering stare as Dustin slumps into the passenger's seat, ready and willing to pout. It was one little mistake.

Maybe two.

Ten, at most.

They drop off Lucas and Mike, which is at least convenient, since they live next door to one another. 

And then it's just him and Steve driving him home in silence, before parking in the driveway. 

"Hey," Steve says, looking over at him, "you can do this. You're just overthinking it."

Dustin knows that's probably true. 

"Can we try again? Just you and me?"

"Sure, man," Steve says, and gets out to trade places. Dustin hadn't actually meant right now, assuming Steve was seriously done for the day, but Steve starts his spiel all over again.

And Dustin listens. Goes through the motions, the checklist, and then they ease back out onto the street. Dustin wants to learn how to drive, he just thought it'd be easier than it is. He's smart. He should be able to do this, easy.

But it's not easy. And that really pisses him off.

Steve is calmer this time around, just being the two of them is helpful for that, at least. Dustin knows Mike pushes Steve's buttons, even on the best of days. 

And today was not the best of days. 

But he eases up to the stop sign, rolling to a smooth stop this time. He doesn't mash the brakes, and they don't jerk in their seats. It's an improvement.

"That's it!" Steve says, reaching over to give him a high five. Then immediately shouts, "Both hands on the wheel!"

It makes them both laugh, erasing the tension from earlier.

Sure, he still makes mistakes, but they aren't as severe, or as stressful, one-on-one. 

This is how they should have done it from the start. Just them.

When they get back to the house, Steve adamant that he wasn't ready for after dark lessons, Dustin gets out and meets Steve around the front of the car.

He's getting older, maybe too old for this, but he quickly reaches up on his toes, hugging Steve tight, whispering, "Thanks, Steve."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[countrymusiclover]

16 - The Day My Life Changed

Part 17

It's About Time

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2 @kmc1989

3 years ago

The football came flying at me where I caught it in my hands seeing Georgie grinning back at me. It was Saturday so we could just chill out with each other with no real worries. “Dang, you might be better at this than I am.” He nervously chuckled.

“Oh I doubt that, Cooper.” I raised my hand back and launched the football in his direction and he managed to catch it against his chest.

Georgie tossed it from one hand to the other. “I may be smaller than some of the other players. But my dad thinks I’ll still be good at it in high school.”

“Hey uh - have you ever thought about having kids when you grow up?” I asked him where he sent me a raised brow where I thought he wouldn’t reply but he did.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Why do ya ask?”

I paused looking at my white sneakers and the pavement. “I was just curious. I mean I think I might want’em when I’m older. I didn’t have siblings but I treat your brother and sister like they are.”

“If I have kids I’d want them to do sports and hopefully be good salesmen.” He threw the football back at me and I nearly dropped it on the ground.

I snorted back a remark. “And they definitely should love Connie’s brisket and tater tots.”

“See that right there is why we’re best friends.” Georgie chuckles pointing at me and I smiled back at him. All the while neither of us knew this conversation might be more serious in the future.

A few months later

I groaned rolling over under the blankets of my bed just not well with bad cramps just shooting through my body. I needed to go to school today for a math test but I couldn’t manage so my mom called the school saying I had really bad period cramps so I wouldn’t be there. Someone knocked on my bedroom door calling out my name. “Y/n, you’re friends are here. Do you care if they come in?”

“Uh yeah, mom. They can come in!” I called out lifting my head up from the bed laying my head back down when the door opened.

Hannah and Ashley entered the room and one of them shut the door so we could talk, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “How are you doing? You’ve been missing school lately.”

“I’ve just been feeling dizzy and sick in the mornings. I’m not sure why - it might be related to my period being late.” I explained trying to rack my brain around why I was still feeling so bad. I had never had a cold as bad as this one.

Hannah reached inside her backpack drawing out something. “How many times have you and Georgie slept together?” She holds up a pregnancy test stick in her left hand.

“Are you kidding me? It only happened one time. We aren’t like you and Ryker.” Covering my face with my hands I fell back on the pillows not really wanting to announce everything about our relationship even if I loved having such curious friends.

Ashley sent her a raised brow. “How did you even get your hands on that?”

“My mom thought she was pregnant after she had my little brother a few months ago. So hopefully it still works.”

Uncovering my eyes I glared at her. “I’m not taking a pregnancy test, Hannah.”

“Then what do you think is making you so sick? Cause you know you can’t go get a test at the hospital without an adult’s consent.” She pointed it out to me.

Signing heavily I sat up thinking for a second. “I know someone who could help and won’t ask questions. His Memaw Connie. She can drive us there.” I did the best to get out of the bed by throwing on some different clothes and my sneakers. Hannah, Ashley and I didn’t get any questions from my parents since they had both finally gone to work for the day.

Ashley knocked on the women’s front door after she drove us to her house. “Hey girls, what’s going on?” Connie opened the front door seeing the three of us standing on her front porch.

“Connie, please don’t ask questions but can you help me get a test done at the hospital?” I asked with pleading puppy dog eyes.

She paused for a minute before grabbing her keys. “Uh - of course. What kind of test?”

“The pregnancy kind.”

She nodded beginning the drive to the hospital without another word. The four of us entered the hospital and thankfully got a room without any questions. The nurse came into the room helping me into the bathroom leaving me to do the test. By the time the nurse came back in with the results I didn’t know what to think as she shut the door behind her sitting on the chair while I sat on the exam table. “Ms. L/n, I need to fill in some information before I give you the results.”

“Okay.” I nodded nervously wanting to know the answer already.

The nurse drew out a pen. “How old are you?”

“17.”

She eyed Connie. “And who is she to you?”

“A family friend. My parents are both at work so she said she’d take me here today.”

The nurse nodded and scribbled some more notes down on the paper, looking back down at the pregnancy test results avoiding my gaze. “The results of your test are this Ms. L/n. You’re three months pregnant with a baby.”

“Oh my god.” I covered my mouth feeling my chest tightening at the thought, not expecting to hear her say those words to me.

Connie touched my arm, signaling the nurse to leave. “Honey, listen to me. I’m gonna be here if you need anything. I have done this the wrong way with my daughter so if you keep it I’ll help you do it right.”

“Y/n, are you going to tell Georgie?” Ashley asked me.

Hannah stands by her side seeing that I was shaking with nervousness. “We won’t tell the guys or Georgie since it’s your kid with him.”

“I’ll tell him at some point.” I muttered under my breath, threading my fingers through my loose hair. My friends had dropped me off back home giving me time to think everything out yet unknown to me Connie was getting into a heated conversation with Georgie about me.

Georgie was working at Dale’s store stocking inventory until the store door was opened and slammed shut. He glanced over his shoulder seeing it was his Memaw who had entered. “We need to talk now!”

“O-okay.” He nervously responded, sitting the stuff down and following her into Dale’s empty office since he was off helping a customer so she locked the door behind them. “What is it we need to talk about?”

She dropped her arms down at her sides knowing she couldn’t tell him the thing that was super important. It was his girlfriend’s decision. “I can’t tell you exactly what it’s about cause it’s about your girlfriend.”

“What about her?” He asked her.

She shakes her head no. “It ain’t mine to tell. But you need to go talk to her. I’ll drive you to her house and you better not wait much longer.”

“Okay - uh let’s go then.” Georgie nodded slowly and the pair made their way out to her car making the trip back to the L/n house. He climbed out of her car rushing up the stairs knocking on the front door. “Y/n, Y/n, you home!”

Connie peaked her over the car standing outside of it seeing something her grandson hadn’t. “Is her bedroom window always open like that?”

“I know where she’s gone.” Georgie whipped his head around noticing what she had seen running back to the car and they drove off with him giving her directions to go find his girlfriend.

[kyupidos]

CONGRATS ON 100! i've been a reader of yours since the beginning, and you've greatly improved; your writing is awesome,, you deserve the milestone! for your halloween event, id like to request the dialogue prompt: "ah, you've made the mistake in thinking that just because this is a couples costume that you get any kind of say in it. you don't, actually." with ace trappola,, i think it'd be really cute! thanks so much, congrats again!

10/19/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

prompt 3 🕸★ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ 🕸★ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ 🕸★ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ ;; summary. ‘ah, you’ve made the mistake in thinking that just because this is a couples costume that you get any kind of say in it. you don’t, actually.’

100 follower milestone event homepage <- ! | event m.list

characters. heartslabyul : ace trappola ;; romantic . 🕸️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), romantic fluff

📞 _a/n. tysm for the congrats!! i’m glad you think i’ve improved, and i’ve noticed it too since i cringe at my earlier posts LMAO thanks for sticking around so long !! ( so sorry for getting this out so late, and so short too, but it’s been a busy couple days </3 )

a. trappola

— when you introduced him to the idea of matching costumes, it was safe to say that ace was feeling rather giddy. wearing couple costumes while traversing night raven for tricks and treats, the idea got him excited. of course he wouldn’t admit it, but even simple things like wearing matching fits always seemed to get his heart pumping faster than usual. for him, it was always in the little things, he supposed. you told him that you were going to go look for ideas on magicam, and for the few moments you stopped texting him, he spent internally giggling giddily to himself.

— some days, maybe two or three, had officially passed when you came up to him with whatever you apparently had in mind. you pulled up to his dorm, laying out on his bed the costume of choice. he stared, blinking once and then twice in perplexity of the costumes laid out, one of which being that of a cherry, and the other being a pie slice, presumably. “huuuh? what’s this?” ace questioned, with as much genuinity as possible as to not be rude, taking hold of the fabric of the cherry costume with his pointer and thumb finger, “this’s what we’re wearing?”

— in response to your casual nod, ace couldn’t help but tilt his head puzzledly. “of course, ‘cause you’re the cherry to my pie.” you spoke pridefully, peace sign in the air, and ace couldn’t help but snort. “eh, that so? then i guess i don’t mind it that much,” he accepted his fate easily, already used to your persistence even with the little things like this. maybe, he concluded, that’s why he enjoyed them so much, holding up the cherry costume completely with his fists now, looking at you as you held your own costume, holding it up to your chest as if to see if it fit, though you knew it did, in the meanwhile. “but i kinda figured we’d have a whole talk and a half about it.”

— you tutted smartly, wagging your pointer finger pointedly. “ah, you’ve made the mistake in thinking that just because this is a couples costume that you get any kind of say in it,” you lectured, a comedic sweat drop falling down the side of ace’s face as you easily continued, “you don’t, actually.” he just laughed in his amusement, ruffling his hair as he took a good look at his costume again. he guessed he did like it, after all—it wasn’t exactly what he expected it, but it was good enough for him. “alright then,” ace smiled for no reason in particular other than his mind wandering towards his daydreams of the both of you wearing your outfit together, “pie to my cherry, let’s wear it.”

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 13: June II

{{ Chapter 12: May I | Chapter 14: July II }} Chapter Directory

ayyyye we're halfway there folks, steamrolling into the second year

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, negative self-talk ✧ word count ➼ ~5.1k

You were looking for a new place to live back in April after your spat with Levi, but that intention was nowhere to be found now. You signed the lease renewal without hesitation. Part of you told yourself that it was because you just didn't have time to look for another apartment that was affordable.

A more realistic part of you was acutely aware that the decision (or lack thereof) was at least partially affected by the fact that you were growing much closer with your roommate. The idea of not being able to see him regularly gave you an odd discomforting feeling, especially after your chat on the Ferris Wheel. He really was the one major connection currently in your life and you couldn’t imagine throwing that away.

"Great," Levi grumbled as he filed the renewed lease away. "I'm stuck with you for another year?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you mumbled with an eye roll. "You know Hange snitched to me about how you were saying that I'm much better at cleaning than Miche was?"

You glanced over at Levi as he scoffed.

"Miche was okay at cleaning, just not being organized."

You placed both your hands on your hips and gave Levi a cocky grin.

"And I'm good at both, right?!" 

"Certainly weren't at first," he grumbled, which prompted you to stick your tongue out at him again, which he immediately waved off. He watched as you walked to and from the bathroom, throwing towels amongst various items like a bathing suit and sunscreen into a gym bag.

You dug through the bag, taking a mental note of everything that was in there to check if you had forgotten anything.

"You're not bringing a swimming suit?" you asked, looking at Levi over your shoulder.

"And immerse myself in the filthy ocean water that's filled with who knows what? Fuck no."

You were much more excited for this beach trip than you were willing to admit. Unlike the amusement park, this wasn't an official outing that you had to be responsible for. Some of the freshmen (soon to be sophomores) in the Honors Society decided that they wanted to check out the beach and you elected to tag along. What you didn't expect was for Levi to also tag along.

"You know you don't have to come," you noted with a serious expression. "Even if you don't touch the water, the sand's also messy and will get into your shoes and clothes."

Levi knew that you had a point. His surroundings were going to be filthy regardless of if he swam or not. He would never willingly find himself at the beach. The water was gross, the sand was messy, and the public bathrooms were generally disgusting. There were too many people and parking was always a nightmare.

The reason he was going was because of you, although he'd never openly admit to it. Hanging out with you has been enjoyable and he found himself missing you whenever you were gone. The prime example was how he had reacted over spring break. You were gone for only a few days and he found himself feeling resentful and grumpy over it, to the point that he ended up being enough of a dick to you to drive you to somehow end up at your ex-boyfriend’s.

"It's monotonous and dull here," he rationalized. "Maybe being around you and the brats you hang out with will annoy me enough to want to come back home and be alone."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you saying you're enjoying hanging out with me, then?"

"Tch," Levi scoffed, avoiding eye contact with you. "Of course not."

You continued to give him a skeptical look, not believing a single word that was coming out of his mouth, but you otherwise didn't push it. 

"Well, if you change your mind, you don't have to come."

"I'm driving."

"I can catch a ride with someone else!"

When you looked back towards Levi, you saw that he was clearly scowling at you.

"...Just shut up and finish packing."

~~~~~

“Surprised you came along, Levi!” 

“Trust me, I didn’t want to at first,” Levi mumbled with a scoff, throwing a side glance over at Nicolo. He had just learned that Nicolo was the point of contact for setting up this trip. His connection with Sasha led to the connection with you, which is how you found yourself here primarily with the freshmen instead of with the other officers of the Honors Society that you usually found yourself hanging out around.

Levi kept his eyes on you, although he wasn’t entirely aware of that himself. He watched as you splashed around in the water, throwing a blow-up tube over you. You struggled to get onto it at first, which tugged at the corners of his lips into a small, amused smile. He wasn’t feeling malicious about watching you struggle, he actually found it quite cute.

That smile got quickly replaced with a frown as he had that disturbing thought again about you.

“_____ drag you here?”

Levi peeled his eyes away from you, trying to push down the feelings of unease and confusion that were becoming more prominent within him.

“Something like that.”

Nicolo got distracted as soon as Sasha came up to him and called his name, carrying a paper bag that was filled with groceries and grilling material. From what little Levi could see, it seemed the newly formed couple was planning on having a grill-out later in the day. At least it meant that he'd be able to get away from the beach eventually.

As the two walked off, Levi was left on his own to stew in his own thoughts. He would usually never find himself here. He even adamantly dodged answering Hange when they asked where he was going on his day off, being more willing to let them theorize about whatever it is that he was up to over letting them know that you had successfully dragged him to somewhere like the beach. He had been here for a few hours at this point and had yet to even step into the sand.

He was avoiding the beach itself, but it did end up being awkward for him to be hanging by himself when he purposefully came to a social event. His reasoning in February was because he only went to make sure you didn’t find yourself in trouble again. He had no such reason now.

Levi found himself annoyed because he really was questioning why he bothered with coming. You had jokingly accused him of enjoying spending time with you, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. It was purely because he needed to get away from the school and apartment, and your trip just happened to be at a convenient time for him.

Part of him knew that was a lie.

As he watched you floating around leisurely on that blow-up tube, he felt this strange pull to approach you. However, you were in the water and he was adamantly against going anywhere near the water. Even the thought of stepping into the water filled him with a sense of disgust.

Levi sighed and groaned to himself. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to go towards you either.

Noticing a local pub and the fact that it was a little past noon, he elected to simply get something to eat.

It wasn’t much better there, either.

It was crowded, the music was too loud, and it was too small of a space. At this point, he was more than grumpy enough to seriously consider maybe leaving and hanging out by himself in his car for the rest of the day, although he knew that you would give him nonstop shit about it if you found out about it—and knowing his luck, you’d definitely find out about it.

After finally getting to order and eat something that wasn’t completely covered in grease, he wandered around the downtown area, noting an ice cream shop nearby. While he normally wouldn’t be bothered to check it out, seeing the dessert shop immediately reminded him of you. The past few times that you had been upset over something, his first thought was to get you food as soon as he found out that you were food motivated. You obviously weren’t particularly upset about anything currently, but getting you food (or making you Matchas) had become one of his ways of spending time with you.

He scowled at the ice cream shop. He had insisted that he had come to the beach for himself and that it had nothing to do with spending time with you, but he knew that wasn’t true. It was also incredibly annoying that something as simple as an ice cream shop immediately reminded him of you.

Despite how tilted he found himself, he still ended up making his way towards the shop, unable to fight off the instinct of obtaining the one thing that never failed to uplift your mood.

~~~~~

It was hot enough that you were more than refreshed just hanging out in the water without a care in the world. You had just rolled into the water off of one of the blow-up tubes. You had originally elected to just sunbathe, but only lasted about ten minutes before you felt like the sun was frying you alive, prompting you to roll directly into the water.

You didn't particularly have a lot of stamina, so you were only able to swim without a floatie for about another ten minutes before you gave up and grabbed onto the blow-up tube and started wading towards land.

Once you finally got back to the shore, you tossed the tube to the side and began wringing out your hair before putting it up in a loose ponytail. You had left your bag near an umbrella for shade and dug out a towel to begin to dry yourself off, taking care to not get too much sand and water into the bag itself. 

You looked around and saw that Jean, Connie, and Sasha were still screwing around in the water. Eren and Mikasa had come along as well, but they were currently nowhere to be found. 

You didn't bring your usual group of friends with you. It's not that you wanted to intentionally leave them out, but you were starting to get sick of being the one inviting them to things. You were the one that was invited onto this trip, and for once, you weren't going to take the responsibility of who was coming or ensuring that everyone had a good time.

You couldn’t deny that you held some resentment towards them over what happened at the amusement park. You planned the whole thing, and got momentarily separated, and then they didn’t bother to check in with you for the rest of the day until they needed you for something logistical. You would be able to understand that it could have been a result of you also not reaching out, if this wasn’t a regular occurrence. It was excuse after excuse, and half the time it was you just making excuses for them. At this point, you didn’t even know if it was worth bringing it up or if you would just be met with defensiveness. You weren’t satisfied with being complacent, but you also didn’t want to put work into fixing a relationship if they weren’t also invested in repairing it.

By the time Levi had decided to actually step foot onto the beach, you had already set out a towel to sunbathe, propping up an umbrella behind you so that you had the option to take shelter in the shade in case it got too hot. Levi’s pacing slowed down once he got closer to you.

He could barely contain the discomfort radiating through his body when he saw you applying sunscreen onto your bare body. Your hands were currently roaming up and down your calves to your upper thigh, suddenly making your curves that much more obvious to him. It wasn't like he didn't see you in shorts (or even half-naked) before, but he suddenly felt the need to look away as if he was invading your private space. At the same time, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Levi kinda awkwardly shuffled from side to side, unsure of what to do. He couldn't just stand there behind you without being a creep—plus, the ice cream would melt. 

He cleared his throat, prompting you to look up at him, your face lighting up once you saw the ice cream cone in his hand.

"Oh, thank you," you said as you took the ice cream cone from him, your cheeks heating up a bit. "Wanna sit?"

You scooted over to the side a bit to give him space to also sit on your towel. You pulled your knees up to your chest while quietly licking at the ice cream cone, the cold custard bringing a refreshing feeling to your mouth. It was perfect for a day as hot as today.

Levi tried his best to avoid looking down at you past your face. Your bikini didn’t seem overly revealing at the time, but now he felt like he couldn’t help but notice how it looked on you. Your hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which revealed the nape of your neck and the sunscreen made your skin shimmer. He felt heat rapidly rising to his face and he forced himself to look away and focus on the coldness of the ice cream instead to try to get himself out of that headspace, pissed that he found himself there in the first place.

You bit on your bottom lip, slightly anxious, as you looked at Levi, who was meticulously working through his ice cream cone, looking much more tense than usual. He wasn’t wearing a swimsuit, so he just had on a white t-shirt with some shorts on. His arms up to his upper bicep was exposed and it took every ounce of self-control within you to not continue staring at him. As usual, his hair fell perfectly over his forehead and his signature irritated scowl seemed oddly alluring. You slightly shook your head upon realizing the types of thoughts that you were having.

You shot a side glance at him, watching as he picked away at his ice cream. Upon closer inspection, you could see that he had elected for a waffle bowl instead of an ice cream cone and that he was using a spoon to scoop out the ice cream instead of shoving it in his face like you were.

When he finally looked over at you again, he immediately passed you a napkin. He had grabbed a more than generous bundle from the shop that he was just at.

"You're dripping."

"Oh, shit," you muttered as you took the napkin and wrapped it around the cone, checking to make sure the sugary liquid didn't get onto the towel. 

Your hand lingered on that spot on the towel for a bit, as if you were struggling to say something. Your finger gently rubbed the cloth back and forth for a while before your lips finally parted.

"Thank you for not being...weird after the other week," you mumbled.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in what almost sounded like a genuine tone as he finished his ice cream, but he knew what you were referring to—and you knew that he knew.

"...Nevermind," you said as you shook your head.

It seemed like neither of you really wanted to discuss what had happened—or rather, what had almost happened—on the Ferris Wheel.

You remembered the two of you chatting over your sudden grumpiness when you suddenly got the impulsive urge to kiss him. You had gotten so distracted that you could barely remember what it was that you were trying to say at the time: that Levi was the only really close and reliable connection that you had.

"...Just thank you for always being there to pick up the pieces, I guess," you mumbled. "I hope you're not too distressed about having to live with me for another year."

You looked up hesitantly at him. Your last statement was meant to be a joke, but there was a bit of actual anxiety present in your voice as well.

He glanced down at you.

"I think I'll find a way to cope with your annoying ass."

You shot him a half-hearted smile. You knew this banter was normal from him, but you couldn't help but doubt. You couldn't help but ponder on the fact that no one would reasonably want to live with you.

"Cut that out," Levi scolded with a groan.

You blinked at him.

"Cut what out?"

"You're pitying yourself again."

"What? No I'm not," you said defensively.

Levi shot you a skeptical look, not believing you in the slightest. 

"You're not as much of a pain in the ass as you think you are."

You scoffed at the irony of his comment.

"You still think that after you had to scout out the entire town for me that one night?"

"Yes."

He responded extraordinarily quickly, and with clear conviction in his voice.

You clenched your jaw and looked down and away from him.

"Do you not believe me?"

He never took his gaze off you.

"_____," he called out after you remained quiet for a while.

You let out an unsteady breath.

"I want to," you whispered. "I just feel like I'm always dragging you down or bothering you for something and there are so many times in which I regret texting you at night because I know you're busy and I don't want to be a burden. And-"

"You never shut up, do you?" Levi scolded, cutting you off. "You're not a fucking burden. Quit doing that to yourself."

He slightly shoved at you in an attempt to pull you out of your head.

You pulled away and looked at him, feeling your cheeks slightly warm up upon seeing that he was shooting you a subtle smile. You gave him a half-hearted smile in return.

"Maybe you're not as much of a dick as I thought you were."

He frowned at your comment.

"You thought I was a dick?"

"Mhm," you said with a nod. "When we first talked, remember?"

"Purged that memory," he said with a deadpan expression, implying that his first meeting with you was so terrible that he had to repress his memory of it.

"Ha, yeah right."

You hated the fact that your cheeks were warming up in his presence again. You hated the fact that you couldn't pull away from him even if you wanted to. 

And you absolutely hated the fact that you got this close to your aloof roommate that was insistent on being a dick to you right off the bat.

~~~~~

"You went out to get a sandwich?"

"Not touching that oil-soaked patty."

You looked over across the alley and saw that Nicolo was in the middle of teaching Sasha how to grill. He had brought his own patties that he had prepared earlier on in the day. Given the fact that everyone had been screwing around in the water all day, they were more than ready for burgers—except for Levi.

He was making a face of absolute disgust at the burgers. He was sure it tasted great—he knew of Nicolo's cooking abilities—but just the sight of the coat of grease over them made him scrunch up his nose in disgust.

Instead, he had walked over to a nearby restaurant to order a sandwich. You knew he had walked off to do that. What you didn't expect was that he was going to come back with one in hand for you too.

You didn't have a problem eating the burger, but the sandwich did admittedly look more appetizing than the burgers that everyone had begun digging through. 

"So?"

Levi raised an eyebrow at you as you spoke.

"So?"

"You regret coming yet?"

He looked at you without responding, unsure why you were randomly bringing up the question.

"I saw you smacking your shoes earlier to get the sand out."

Levi's breathing paused for a moment. He didn't expect you to notice that. He had made sure that you were out of sight when he went behind his car to get the sand out, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of an "I told you so". 

He grunted in response.

"Whatever. As long as it doesn't get in the car."

"Maybe I'll make you go swimming next," you mused.

"Don't you dare."

You chuckled at his reaction, taking a sip of your beer. You looked up towards both Nicolo and Sasha as you finished your sandwich and saw that Sasha had already picked up how to use the grill, despite having only been introduced to it around twenty minutes ago.

You knew all the way back in November that they were beginning to become a thing, so you weren't surprised when they arrived at the beach as an official couple. You watched them interact with each other and found your eyes flashing over towards Levi.

You mentally slapped yourself for doing so. The fact that you automatically looked at him when thinking about a "new couple" meant that those feelings that rose up at the amusement park were still there, and they didn't seem to be going away any time soon. Your housing situation would be made a hundred times more complicated if you ended up falling in love with your roommate. You continued trying to convince yourself that that wasn’t the case and that there was some other explanation for your feelings that didn’t involve a more intimate relationship with him.

It was Levi. He was supposed to piss you off and you were supposed to piss him off. Him being kind to you was a fluke. You just happened to have multiple flukes in a row. It couldn’t possibly mean anything.

You awkwardly shuffled around on the bench, trying to shake off the feeling. Levi immediately noticed that your body posture had changed.

"What?" he asked with a frown.

You looked at him with flushed cheeks. You weren't sure if it was from him or from the alcohol beginning to hit you. You'd prefer if it was just the alcohol.

"Nothing," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Just the alcohol settling in."

He blinked at you a few times with a raised eyebrow. He didn't believe you.

This had turned into a common theme between the two of you. Whether you were intending to or not, lying to him has become significantly more difficult as of late, and vice versa. The tension and mind games were killing you, but you weren’t willing to address anything, if you even knew what “anything” entailed of.

You grimaced as everyone began swarming the table now that the burgers were done and everyone had grabbed their food. The small table that you had been peacefully eating your sandwich at soon became chaotic and messy. Everyone chatting at once became incredibly noisy and it was wearing away at your nerves. You were soon no longer processing anything that was being said, your world simply turning into a haze that vaguely involved people running around and screaming something about summer break that you were too overwhelmed to fully tune in to.

Levi got up and placed a hand on your shoulder, sensing the tension.

"Come, talk a walk with me. It's-"

"-getting too rowdy?" you finished his sentence with a slight smirk. You shared the sentiment, however. It was much too noisy for either of you. Although Levi had pulled you out of your dissociative state, you felt it quickly returning.

He responded to your comment with an eye roll, but otherwise motioned for you to follow as he began to wander back towards the shoreline.

~~~~~

"Oh c'mon, at least dip a toe in!" you shouted back at Levi from the shoreline. 

"Fuck no."

You were barely in the water, just close enough for the waves to wash over your feet, but remaining dry otherwise.

The beach was starting to cool off now that the sun began to go down. The sky had a relaxing pink hue to it that was speckled with white clouds drifting about. It had gotten chilly enough that you had a thin, translucent pullover on so that you weren't wearing just a bikini. 

You tried to coax Levi to step into the water, but he adamantly refused. After seeing that he wasn't going to budge, you sighed and stepped out of the water, slightly bumping into him as you walked up next to him. 

He slightly pushed back against you with an annoyed look. He had invited you on a walk to get away from everyone else, not expecting you to try to drag him into the ocean. 

His frown lines softened as you looked up into his eyes and your cheeks heated up as he gave you "that" look again. It was the one you saw for the first time on that Ferris Wheel—a gentle, compassionate look that you rarely got to see from him. 

You broke eye contact, feeling your entire body begin to heat up just from being around him. You mumbled something under your breath.

"What?"

You shook off your nerves and spoke up.

"Thanks...for always being there to pick me up."

He sighed in irritation.

"Quit thanking me for it."

You had thanked him for the exact same thing repeatedly over the past day and while he wasn't necessarily sick of it, he knew how excessive it was. He was acutely aware that it had to do with a sense of shame or guilt, but he hoped that you'd eventually be able to just accept that it's okay to need or ask for help.

"I'm sorry if it ever seems like I'm not grateful," you mumbled. "I really don't know what I would've done without you this past year so..."

Your hand grabbed at your other arm in anxiety.

"...so I guess you're not as bad of a roommate as I thought you would be."

You had to end your comment with a joke. At this point it seemed to serve as a protective factor against whatever it was that was brewing within you whenever you were around him. You were hesitant to test the waters with him. It was why you didn't text him when you were on the bus ride back from the amusement park. 

You didn't want to screw up what you already had. You didn't want to mess up this delicate friendship that you had finally been able to forge.

When you finally gathered up the courage to look at him again, you saw that he never took his eyes off you the entire time.

He looked into your eyes for a bit before he spoke, as if he was also contemplating about the best way to word his thoughts.

"Did you mean it?"

"That you're not a shit roommate?"

He let out an annoyed tut.

"Not that, dumbass."

You tilted your head a bit at him, genuinely unsure of what he was referring to. 

"At the amusement park," he said quietly, and you felt your body freeze upon him bringing it up. "On the Ferris Wheel. Did you mean it?"

He was referring to what you had been saying about being close to him. You remembered musing about the fact that you didn't really have anyone that you could call family, or anyone that you could rely on to be there in case shit hit the fan—except for Levi.

Levi was always there for you, even if it seemed like he didn't want to be. Levi would drop everything to make sure you were okay. You could confidently rely on him. Whether you had wanted to or not, you had formed somewhat of a close bond with him, to the point that every minute that you spent with him involved you being incredibly confused over what your relationship actually was.

You felt your cheeks continue to heat up and you turned to walk away, pausing as your hand brushed up against his.

Your hands lingered near each other for a bit as the both of you stopped moving. You even felt his fingers slightly grasp at yours, although you could easily convince yourself that this wasn't intentional, but it still sent chills throughout your body nonetheless.

"Uhm..y-yeah," you stammered, "I guess I did...Is that okay?"

Neither of you pulled your hands away. The desire to get closer to him was destroying you, but you held agonizingly still as you anxiously waited for his response.

"Sure."

You looked into each other's eyes and you felt that same tension, that same alluring feeling drawing you towards him, that same temptation to gently plant your lips against his. Your face only continued to heat up as you stood next to him, fingers crossed with his, the both of you unmoving, waiting to see what the other would do.

Levi cleared his throat before finally stepping back away from the shoreline.

"Should head back. It's getting dark."

It took you a minute to reorient yourself to reality. 

"Yeah," you said quietly as you let out an unsteady exhale. "We should."

You lingered behind him a bit, letting him walk forward. You watched him from behind, appreciating the way that the breeze was blowing through his hair. Your eyes dropped down to the bottom of his t-shirt, where it slightly rose up so that you could ever so slightly see the bottom of his bare back. It wasn’t anything special, but just simply seeing his shirt rise made your body heat up in ways that you weren’t willing to admit to yourself. Besides, you still weren't sure how he felt. Part of you wanted to think that whatever was building up in you was reciprocated, but you were much too scared to act on it without explicit confirmation that he wanted it too.

Even if it was reciprocated, you weren't even sure if you wanted to officially go there. Things were too chaotic and you had never planned to fall in love with your roommate that you had hated so much a year ago. 

You weren't sure—but you couldn't deny that a deep part of you left you longing for more.

they're so stupid skjdfksdf #: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @alexkibutsuji @moonchild-angel

[orbmanson7]

I'm bored at work so I decided to screenshot and list all the random crap you can see in Herbert's room in Re-Animator, for anyone curious.

(heads up, the third screenshot contains a dead animal)

On our first glance, we can see the following:

-An obligatory poster with multiple diagrams of the human brain with extensive information relating to each part

-A mini-fridge containing multiple chemical solutions, Herbert's reagent, multiple petri dishes with some kind of sample growths inside them (some of the jars may also contain samples), and a dead Rufus

-Atop the fridge, we see a binder filled with a documentation log, a thick reference book, another smaller textbook, a metallic bowl with some sanitized cloth under it, an additional sanitized cloth under Dan's hand there, a small tube with a screw-on cap that could contain just about anything, and a wrapped power cord with an old-style plug that may or may not be connected to the small lamp sitting above it

-In the wideshot, we can see a nightstand of sorts (it's more like a coffee table that runs alongside Herbert's bed) that holds a small old-style lamp, more reference books and papers, a few more sanitized cloths, a closed but not sealed cardboard box, at least six miscellaneous bottles that appear to be liquid and/or tablet-form medications, a larger bottle of chemical solution, a cup or mug with a stirring implement sticking out of it, and what appears to be an infrared thermometer but I don't know that those even existed in 1985 so it could be a large inhaler or other medical device instead

Next, when we revisit the room in the Integral Cut, we can see there's a few new items added, especially the contents around Herbert's bed.

-There is a typewriter that was there in the earlier scene, but we can see it more clearly now, with paper inside and half a page already filled

-There's a desk lamp switched on to illuminate the typewriter and multiple books stacked on the desk next to the typewriter, as well

-A human skull has been added to the pile of contents atop the fridge, along with several more reference books and papers (and the brain poster has now been moved behind it, blocking the window shade, for some reason)

-On Herbert's bed is a suitcase with an exact copy of his current wardrobe of a white, long-sleeved button-down shirt and a black tie (and probably pants, too)

-Next to his bed, on that long table, we can see a new cardboard box that's open and contains large bottles of what are likely more tablet-form medications as well as what looks like a can of something (likely a chemical)

-Next to the box is the same closed box from earlier, but the cloths have all been used up save for one. On the other side, there's what is either a well-used magazine or a workbook sitting under a thermos among a large bottle of chemical solution, six more bottles of tablet-form medications (two still inside boxes), two boxes that seem to either be bandages and/or nylon bands (both used for injections), and that same old-style lamp from before

(I don't think it's worth mentioning the large white board on the bed that is likely there for white balance in the shot rather than an actual prop, especially since it's not there in the immediate next shot)

-On the bed behind them appears to possibly be a swiss airline luggage tag (those big ones you can use to make it easier to locate your luggage at baggage claim), likely still connected to Herbert's suitcase

-On the other side of the bed, there's far more innocuous items, such as an open can of diet 7-Up in front of a small biohazard sign, an overturned open book, a large canister for water (likely used for tea or coffee), another reference book, and memo pad papers scattered back there, too. There's also some kind of large implement of some sort (maybe just the weirdest paperweight to exist), if it was upside-down then it could closely resemble what someone may use to polish shoes? It could also just be a bizarre lamp that's not plugged in, I don't know

-Also interesting to note that Herbert kept the window next to his bed slightly open, his bed is always messily made, and he never has anything on the floor despite the mess of clutter he stacks everywhere else in his room

Anyway, that's it! I always find it interesting what gets chosen by set design when cluttering a lived-in space (especially in 80s movies) for these kinds of shots, even if it's haphazardly done on a cheap budget. They can say a lot about a character, and I think there's certainly some unique notions to made about Herbert based on what can be seen here.

Do what you will with this information.

[eldritch-spouse]

May I give Pebble a flower?

[Flöwer :))]

Last night, you got him to stay for ten whole minutes.

It wasn't easy, by any means. Usually, as soon as your eyes met, the abnormal monster would tremble and make an uneasy groan before taking off into the sky. You'd say it's scary, if it hadn't happened so many times already.

You still remember the first time you saw him. It was probably around midnight, maybe one in the morning, dead hours. Restless, you had slipped a robe on and went to catch some air on your backyard. Except, when you glanced up with the intent of observing the stars, what you saw instead was something much closer. A looming, broad and two-headed figure perched on your roof, beady red eye fixed on you. The entity was seemingly as in shock as you were, which is ridiculous to say, but you know now that must have been the case- He was motionless, the two of you gawking at each other like statues.

What a curious thing he is.

Bathed by the soft glow of your light pole, you could try to make sense of the male. Stone, a gargoyle with an odd blueish tint, featuring two pointed tails and a pair of paper bags covering its heads. The right one has a hole torn in it from where that ruby glow emanates. He... Has a collar around his neck, and even though you can clearly tell something is engraved in that silver tag, you haven't been able to get close enough to read it.

Yet.

That first night, he took off the moment you screamed at the top of your lungs, after making his own startled bleat that is. The encounter remained in your mind however, making you wonder if that mutated gargoyle was actually someone's pet. But surely, that can't be. He's no animal, his figure is so very humanoid. Observation has taught you better. No animal would comb its hand over the flowers of your garden with the knowledge that it had to be gentle so as to not ruin them. No animal would tap its claws on the bulbs of your light post just to hear the pleasant tink tink tink they make when they hit each other.

And no animal would have a conversation with you.

Granted, they're very one-sided conversations, which he either nods or shakes his heads at, sometimes offering vague noises that don't quite classify as words. But he clearly understands what you're saying! It took forever just to get him to stick around after a whispered "Goodnight".

He's no pet.

This time, you're determined to keep him around for just a bit longer. Because, weirdly enough, you've grown oddly attached to the gargoyle that perches on your roof every other night. You don't know what makes him keep coming back. It might be food nearby, it might be a particularly good spot to observe the sky- But you like to think he finds you just as charming as you find him. Wishful thinking, maybe.

Nonetheless, you have a plan, one whose core you hold pinched between index and thumb. A blue daisy. You smile to yourself, waiting for the telltale woosh of wings flapping and the loud thump of taloned feet finding purchase on the tiles.

" Hi... " You whisper after slowly walking outside, keeping yourself a fair distance away for his comfort. You'll never know why he fears you.

The gargoyle tenses, wings rising on his back, though he relaxes again eventually and warbles something quietly.

" I have something for you. You look like you enjoy flowers. " The monster tilts his head, blinking.

Eyes fixed on his, you make sure to take each step forward at a snail's pace, observing for any sign of aggression or terror. The entity squats straighter, grip on the tiles tightening, but makes no effort to flee. It's enough to have a smile steadily spreading on your cheeks. You never really thought you'd be the one feeling like a predator here, but it's definitely how you think of yourself as you stalk forward.

Once you're close enough to hear his slightly labored breathing, see puffs of hot air flow from beneath those odd paper bags -Things you've stopped questioning- You sedatedly raise your arm. The pretty daisy faces him delicately.

Slow seconds pass, a minute probably. Two? You're not counting. Moths fly past you both. He's studying your figure the same way a corralled chicken gazes at a wolf.

Finally, with a trembling hand, he reaches forward, hunching, stony claws scraping your knuckles in the brief moment it takes for him to pluck the flower off your grasp. It was all you needed.

Pebble.

Engraved lovingly into that rounded, shiny tag.

Taking a step back, you offer him a gentle smile.

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Pebble. "

The monster, previously studying the daisy, jumps a bit- Offering you a trepidation-filled glance full of confusion, until he remembers the nametag on his collar, tugging at it.

His free hand tugs his paper bags down harder, tails swishing as he apparently flusters.

A calmer silence settles after that, with you sitting by a stray chair, content to enjoy his mute company for a while.

It must have only been a handful of minutes before he moves again.

You don't bother looking, assuming he's about to depart for the night. Only to gasp when the monster lands on the ground, sitting next to you by the small backyard table with the daisy being twirled between bulky fingers.

Neither of you dare utter a word. And you don't need to.

This is more than enough.

[lost-wishing-official]

lost☆wishing.

“i’m tired of you being mean to yourself and pretending it’s to be kind to others. you just want to suffer.”

what is lost☆wishing?

lost☆wishing is a fan-made unit set within the project sekai universe. it features four members who have come together to send a message through the medium of song. their music tends to have dark tones to it, and some notable artists you’ll see are kikuo, maretu, and such similar creators.

what is this account for?

this account is an ask blog! you can send asks to the group members or to one of the mods! it will help us over at the mod team curate and fine-tune the stories and characters, while it will hopefully pique the interest of a few of you!

the members

hotaru kazuko [ 蛍和子 ] — she / it / neos

— the leader. 17. class 2-B at kamiyama high school.

kaixan [ カイズン ] — they / he / neos

— the vocalist. 17. takes online classes.

ono ryōko [ 小野涼子 ] — she / her

— the composer. 17. class 3-A at kamiyama high school.

shisōka kumo [ 思想家の雲 ] — he / they

— the lyricist. 18. class 2-B at kamiyama high school.

a group formed from the depths of despair. one picks up the shattered pieces of a former life, and the others follow behind to find their own meaning in their music.

what can i ask?

you can ask almost anything! depending on the question and the character you ask, though, i can’t promise the answer will be entirely truthful. we do request that there are no asks that change a character (eg. magic anons), but that’s about our only rule! we delete asks if we feel uncomfortable answering them.

you can also send asks to the vocaloids! just as a note — miku in her lost☆wishing form is meant to have an uncanny valley feel, and may have unreality triggers. all will be tagged appropirately.

what will you post aside from asks?

we’ll post event information, art for the group, and maybe even some cards! you’ll have to stick around and see for yourself.

who are the mods?

i’m mod kanade, and i wrote this whole intro post (as well as doing the edits for the icon and banner). i’ll tag my posts with #☆ mod 🦋

my main blog is @orphic-execution! i talk a lot about kumo on there. i use they/him pronouns on this blog! i am the owner of kumo as an OC, so i’ll be answering any questions for him :3

— 🦋 —

i'm mod mona. my posts will be tagged with #☆ mod 💎.

i created ryoko ono and will be answering questions pertaining to her. i use all neopronouns as well at they/them and it/it's on this blog.

— 💎 —

Hello , Im Mod Yuki , They/Fae! , Main blog is @azuresystem

Creator of Lost Wishing Kaito and other side characters! , I'll mostly be answering questions about them!

Multi-Mod post will be signed off with ❄️

— ❄️ —

wei are mod s.c.! wei are not tagging individual headmates for comfort and because of our system structure, but wei are plural and are really grateful and excited to have the opportunity to be able to participate in a blog like this! wei will be using tone tags a lot for ourselves :3

our main blog is @softie-system! we talk a lot about activism and our fandoms on there. wei use any pronouns other than he or she collectively. wei created and thus will be answering questions for kaixan! (all /gen and /pos)

—🌈 —

i'm mod viridian. our character is kazuko hotaru and we will be answering all questions pertaining to her.

our main is @zephyrine-tale, and we use she/lyric pronouns.

— 🍃 —

what’s your tagging system?

#☆ mod 🦋 — posts made or answered by mod kanade

#☆ mod 💎 — posts made or answered by mod mona

#☆ mod ❄️ — posts made or answered by mod yuki

#☆ mod 🌈 — posts made or answered by mod s.c.

#☆ mod 🍃 — posts made or answered by mod viridian

#speaking with [name] — asks related to that character

#lost☆wishing events — posts related to focus & group events for the unit

#lost☆wishing art — cards and general art for the unit

#cw [thing] — trigger tag

have fun :3

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck for the tag!

My words: loyal, haste, frost, glory

Your words: familiar, equal, pierce, door

Tagging with 0 pressure: @aziz-reads @andyswritings @cowboybrunch @blind-the-winds @little-peril-stories @eccaiia @jezifster @mk-writes-stuff @reininginthefirewriting @badluck990 @addicted2coke-theothercoke @i-can-even-burn-salad @sleepywriter00 @finxi-writes @finickyfelix @albatris or anyone else who wants to hop on!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @fairy-tales-of-yesterday y'all want to do this? Go ahead

Keep reading for:

Noelle's research part two (part one was here)

Jack, Jill, and Beau climb a beanstalk

TWO SOTL passages???? Anyways Jack is having a good time

Shapeshifting chitchat

(Dis)loyal - from The Secret Portal Part Two (article Noelle reads)

When I first joined the Aequales, I fully believed in the ideals that were preached. Now, I am unsure of what to do. It is true, the Aequales wants to bring peace to our world. The Aequales wants Inutilia to have the same rights as other Alii. As a fader, I still believe that Inutilia should not be treated the way they have in the past. I believe that Raissa Kamanzi’s methods are flawed. But Atsila McLain is not who we’ve been looking for. I had nothing but respect for the woman when I first joined. But as the years have gone on, I have found her to be insufferable. She’s demanding, harsh, zealoted, and disloyal to those around her. She doesn’t even seem to care much for her family, only obsessed with the end goals in mind. The ends do not always justify the means, and I am starting to believe she is no better than Raissa Kamanzi. It seems that even though Atsila does not appear to be lying about the rights of Inutilia, it is awfully convenient that her best friend is Inutil. Due to her being in high political standing in her neighborhood, having a high socioeconomic status, her connections to both the Sector 8 and 9 governments, and umbrakinesis, it is no wonder she is able to persuade the masses to her side. The Aequales does have many Inutilia members, some of them ex-Refuga, but there are a disproportionate amount of powered individuals, many of them using the Aequales’ guise of morality as an excuse to be bigoted to Aequalis Inutilia. Does Atsila kick out these bigots for not holding her ideals? No. She uses the advantage. She uses their pull to gain more and more followers. More and more people away from Raissa Kamanzi. I admit, it’s a brilliant strategy. But I cannot stand for a person who turns a blind eye to the very thing she’s supposedly fighting against just because the ends will justify the means.

Loyalty is a strong theme in TSP why do I never use it lol

Haste - from School of the Legends Year One

Outside, Jack, Jill, and Beau stood around the giant beanstalk, all armed with helmets, rope, and sickels around their waists, just in case one of them fell and had to dig into the side of the stalk in a haste. They tied the rope around each of their waists--Beau leading the way and Jack taking up the rear. “Alright,” said Beau, digging his foot into the side of the beanstalk and grabbing onto loose tendrils sticking out of it. “Let’s do this.” He began to climb up the side of the beanstalk. After he was high enough, Jill followed him. Jack looked up the beanstalk again. He couldn’t see the top, and today it was very cloudy--it may have been above the clouds. That wasn't a good sign. There was no way they’d reach the top, but surely Jill and Beau knew that. They were just having a bit of fun. And Jack was going to have fun, too. Once it was his turn, he followed his sister up the side of the giant beanstalk. The beanstalk was a lot easier to climb than Jack initially thought. It was about as thick as a tree trunk and had many layers of intertwined, well, stalks. Jack did slip a few times, but so did Beau and Jill. Maybe they were all average climbers. After what seemed like hours, Jack was beginning to get tired. How much longer until they were at the top? Jack strengthened his grip before he dared to tilt his head up. When he saw it was still forever, he felt weakened. Maybe if I looked down I could see how far we’ve come. Nope. That was a rubbish idea. “Beau!” Jack called upward. “Yes?” Beau yelled back. “Is there any way we could possibly speed this up?” “Yeah!” said Jill. “It’s starting to get a little less fun than expected.” “Okay,” said Beau. “Just give me a second.” Jack tilted his head back to look at Beau, who appeared to be concentrating. A tickling sensation on his chest caused Jack to jump. Parts of the beanstalk were wrapping around his torso, tight enough to be firm, and yet loose enough to allow him to breathe. “Hold on!” Beau said. Jack looked back up just in time to see his cousin thrust his hand groundward, and the three of them were shot toward the sky. A scream seemed to escape Jack’s lips, but he didn’t hear any sound. He struggled to keep his eyes open against the speed. He couldn’t find any way to speak, so silently willed Beau to stop, or at least slowdown. After a moment or so, it appeared to have worked. Well, it didn’t--Beau just stopped.

Not the most exciting passage imo but it was my only use of the word

Frost - from School of the Legends Year One

Jack stood with his feet just over shoulder-width apart, his left foot slightly behind his right. He focused his eyes on the wheelbarrow a few yards ahead. He pulled his left arm back and shot it forward. A stream of ice leapt out of his palm, striking the tire of the wheelbarrow. Jack laughed, spinning around. “Didja see that?!” “Sure did,” Jill said, grinning broadly. “You’re getting better at that.” Jack was sure his face was gonna split--that’s how hard he was smiling. He bounced on the balls of his feet to look back at the frozen wheel. Sure, he was aiming for the bed of the wheelbarrow, but honestly, who cared? Certainly not Jack. It had been a few weeks since their adventure up the beanstalk, and ever since the surprise letter, Jack had been trying out these ice powers he’d apparently possessed his whole life--that was something Jack still thought came out of the blue, although in the time that had past, it was starting to become more natural. His aim, still, was not terrible, not great, just average--so Jack was still Jack. “Thanks,” Jack said, responding to his sister. “Aw, this is wicked, ain’t it?” “You bet it is!” Jill said, crossing over to kneel beside the wheelbarrow. “You shot this out of your hand! I couldn’t even do that if I tried!” “Have you tried?” Jill pursed her lips. She stood again and backed up until she was next to Jack. She mimicked his earlier thrust of the palm. “Yeah, I tried.” “It’s still a little weird that I can do it,” Jack admitted. “Why? Because it’s above-average?” “Well, yeah, actually.” “Come on, Jack!” Jill said. “Stop being such a puss and enjoy this!” “Oh, I’m enjoying this alright,” Jack said, smiling again at the wheel. “It just feels… weird? Off-book? Out-of-character?” “Hey, if you want to feel more like your ‘old self,’ that appears to be an average amount of frost on that wheel.” Jack tilted his head slightly. “Yeah, you’re bang on with that.” Jill laughed, giving him a playful push on the shoulder.

Glory Importance (literally the closest synonym and it was only said once) - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

“So, what does Liam have planned for you today?” she asked. “I dunno,” I said, shrugging. “We basically go over what each animal can do, and the importance of each one in a given situation. I assume more of that?” “Is that all y’all do?” I shrugged. “Pretty much. I mean, we focus on some combat.” “What does Liam turn into?” “I dunno, wood, diamonds, bricks. Water, sometimes.” “Which one of you is more powerful?” “I think technically he is,” I said. The doors slid open to an empty dining hall and we stepped in. I went to the replicator, ordered a granola bar, and then turned back into the elevator. “What Level are y’all again?” Kelsey asked as we stepped in. “Training room.” “I’m a Level-2, he’s Level-3,” I said. “So he is?” “I mean, shapeshifting is weird. The Levels aren’t related to each other.” “What are they?” “Uh, people, animals, textures,” I said. “One Level does all living things, and the highest Level can shift into anything. They’re called omnimorphs.” Kelsey let out a whistle. “Imagine being an omnimorph.” She cocked her head. “Could an omnimorph replicate the internal structure of an Alii?” I thought about it for a second. “Like, replicate their powers?” I shrugged. “Maybe. Do you think Hye-Jin is some level of omnimorph?” “I dunno,” Kelsey said as the doors slid open. “She could. It may not even be related.” “Either way,” I said as the two of us stepped into the training room, “omnimorphs are pretty rare. There hasn’t been a recorded one in a century.”

Levels are up to chance I'm figuring it out. Think Maddie is more powerful but unsure.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Sharing this because I feel like it. ☺️ The first 900+ words of Idle Hands (rewrite) so far. 🥹 In case you didn't catch previous now deleted post, I gave up on the 'stressful childhood' direction. Now it's more of a retelling, but I'm still calling it a rewrite. This Naruto is interesting imo. Ahhhh, I hope I'm doing this right? I guess bear with me here. Contradictions may be inevitable, Idk. So, he falls under the Obliviously Evil trope this time around. I'm shooting for 'cheerful yet stressed (traumatized) and actually secretly crazy'. Doesn't fit the standard Dark Naruto depiction, so I can't really say one way or another which he leans the closest to. 😭 He hasn't broken yet, but he's going to get there, so we'll see. 🤭 Hope this instills some hype! :3 Becuz I'm making progress babyyyy~🎵

xxx-xxx-xxx

Idle Hands (2024)

Pairings: NaruHina, eventual NaruHinaSasu

Smut, Freeuse, Dacryphilia

cw: toxic behavior, dubcon, ijime

Summary: There's nothing to do in the sticks. There's even less to do when you're on probation. There's even less than that when: Your dad is the most popular man in town/You've been raised to be a boy and are invisible when you try to be a girl/When your exciting city boy lifestyle has been taken from you.

Or when two losers and a fuckboy choose all the worst ways to have fun. Not that one of them had much of a choice.

There in the middle of an overgrown clearing sat a rusted, abandoned car, wheel-less and sitting atop four cement bricks. The dense forest trees towered in the distance, their foliage deep green and billowing in the wind. Beneath the car, you can follow the remnants of a gravel path out of the clearing, towards an abandoned auto factory – you know, when having an auto factory way the fuck out here somehow made sense. Back before the bubble burst when everything went to shit. But what does he know? He was only six when it happened. Not like that shit ain’t affecting him well into the Y2K or anythin’.

Naruto lounged in the backseat with a nudie magazine and a sage green quilted blanket over his lap, his cheeky eyes devouring the curvaceous models on the pages. Oiled up, lips spread, pouty eyes peering and pleading for his cock.

He nudged his toe in the soft belly beneath the blanket, or maybe he threw it a little harder than he meant to, forcing a slight cough from her throat as her mouth retreated from his cock after gagging.

The blanket rose up from his lap.

“Hey, I didn’t say ‘stop’.” He cupped the back of her head and forced her lips to press against the underside of his rigid girth, teeth sliding and catching against his tender flesh. When the wet, warm vacuum pull of her mouth around his cock returned, he settled back into place, flipping pages like he was reading the newspaper.

Green eyes stared back at him. Earnest, yet cold. White skin framed by black hair. Her tits squished together in a string bikini as she bent forward, her arms crossed underneath their swell.

Shizuka. Didn't matter that she was twenty-four and he was sixteen. There were plenty of ways he could ruin her that life hasn't yet.

His breath quickened, shallow quiet pants puffing past his lips.

Her rich green eyes were growing on him.

Maybe his first girlfriend will have green eyes. If only.

Women like them didn’t exist out here. Not in this dying town of theirs, where their only market street was rows of shuttered-up shops, their storefronts heavily tagged and dirty with runny rust-stains.

Dsy by day, this place was turning into an old person’s home. Or a fucking casket.

Day by day he passed by a chain-smoking mummy, half-deaf and half-blind yet still nosy enough to cuss him out. Every day those same disapproving stares like he was some kind of disease, some kind of curse.

He wanted a woman like Shizuka. He wanted softness like hers to make him forget. He wanted eyes like hers fixed on him in every mundane context, like two lovers, their names signed on the lease just the day before. He wanted her silent worship.

God, he couldn’t wait to get out of here. Couldn’t wait to get a taste of real women.

He was wasting his fucking youth here. His mind too, not that anyone believed he had much of one to begin with.

He imagined someone beautiful, someone way, way, way out of his league taking him inside her, wanting him more than anyone else inside her. She would rewrite his entire history in a single night.

Excitement arced up his spine as pleasure pooled in his groin, building and building–

Naruto grabbed the back of her head. He thrusted into her hot, slimy throat, ignoring her startled whines, the gagging convulsions tightening around his invasive cockhead.

“Gotta train your throat again, huh, Hinata? C’mon, just endure it. I ‘ppreciate you not playing with other dudes while I was away, but you’ve really gotten sloppy. But that’s fine, too, actually. It’s kinda cute.” He threw his head back and closed his eyes, surrendering to the soft, clinging sensations thrumming around his cock. He was melting against her devoted tongue, so persistent to please him no matter what as she licked and laved the ridgid underside with broad sweeps that left echoes of each across his turgid flesh.

Knock knock knock!

A rhythmic tapping on the glass beside his head startled the lewd occupants and Naruto threw his toe into her stomach again.

He lowered the nudie magazine atop her head and turned his face out the window.

Bent over at the hip stood the thorn in his side that his dad personally stabbed in him the moment he found himself in front of the family judge again – no less than two months after his release from the Juvenile Training Facility.

The silver-haired man with the lazy, lidded gaze mimed cranking a handle backwards and Naruto sighed. He reached for the window crank, lowering the window just enough that he and Kakashi could properly exchange words.

“Go to school, Naruto.”

Naruto sank into seat, clearing his face of any hint of expression as he leveled Kakashi with a cold, ignorant stare.

His toe had other ideas, as he nosed around the convergence between her legs, finding the soft resistance of her panty-covered cunt. He idly teased her clit while he waited for the weary douche to give up like he always did.

Not like his father’s favorite student was all that invested in him, anyway. The dude was freaky smart and found ways to make his minor infractions such as truancy go away. Precisely to his father’s satisfaction, and not the system’s.

Obito told him someone like Kakashi would have proposed lifelong marriage to ‘The Rules’ if it had taken the shape he most desired.

The fact that he could give two shits about integrity these days convinced Naruto that his dad knew Kakashi’s state of mind. And that he was exactly what his dad was looking for in a probations officer.

Someone that would take Namikaze Minato’s side, always.

Someone that would protect Namikaze Minato’s image, always.

TBC

[alessiathepirate]

Resident Evil 3 Remake

THE PRICE OF LIFE: Nikolai Zinoviev/Nicholai Ginovaef x fem!reader

Summary: Nicholai was too interesting to not care about. He was too interesting to be left behind - maybe she cares a bit too much.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

My Russian isn't the best, I only know a few words in that language so I used Google translator to help me. If something isn't correct and/or something is used in the wrong context, please tell me so I can learn and improve :)

Warnings: mentioned wounds, referenced manipulation (only vaguely, you have to decide what it really is), slightly unhealthy relationship tropes

•••

Nicholai was a very calculated man.

She was very well aware of that fact as soon as she first saw him and talked to him. He knew what to expect from her, when to expect it and how to use that knowledge in his favor. She knew that it was a very useful skill to have, especially in a situation like theirs.

That was until she figured out another thing about him.

Nicholai was also a man mostly driven by greed and power.

And greed mixed with the ability to deduce someone's next move and worth was a pretty dangerous skill.

He may have been greedy, but he was also too interesting to not care about. She liked to listen to him talk and then understand the meaning of those words, because even if money was clearly the main motivator, he was right. He was a great survivalist who understood the very basic rule of life: no one else's life matters, but your own.

He wasn't an ordinary man she'd meet around every corner and that led to her being too interested in him to leave him alone. Even if Jill didn't trust him, even if he made her leave her friend behind to save her own life - she knew he was right and she was glad she decided to stick with him.

If anyone can make it out of the city alive, it was Nicholai - and perhaps, if she isn't too annoying and boring - she can leave with him too.

It was because of these facts she had managed to know about him that she became scared, doubtful and a bit disappointed. There he was, the man she decided to trust, the man she decided to believe - and he was wounded.

He was wounded, defeated - destroyed because of his own ego. He thought he was clever, he thought he knew Jill Valentine, yet he underestimated her.

She shot him to save her own life - she learned that from Nicholai himself.

"There's a price tag for everything. Even letting the world burn."

Once again, he was right. Even if it wasn't a thing she'd do, it was something others are definitely doing right in that same moment somewhere else.

"Who are you working for?"

Carlos was on his way towards the helicopter and he tilted his head, trying to make a silent sign so she'll get moving and help him. She shook her head and looked at Jill - I can't: that's what her movements said, but I don't want to was what she really wanted to say.

Carlos nodded, seemingly understanding - or misunderstanding - what she meant to say. He thought she tried to look out for Jill, when in reality it was another person she tried to look out for.

"I'll tell you if you get me out of here." that first line was for Jill, she was sure of it, but then his eyes found hers as he continued: "I'll pay you whatever you want."

As Carlos climbed into the helicopter leaving no one to look directly at her, she tilted her head with a small smile.

You'll pay, huh?

She did her best to look inside herself and find her main motivator what followed her throughout the whole night. It was the want and need to survive. And she survived - she was here and Jill will for sure take her out of the city. They were friends and Jill won't rub anything into her face or scream at her saying: 'What did you do to save yourself?' No, she loves her too much for that.

But money? She doesn't want the money. She doesn't need it at all. She won't be able to spend it, knowing at which part of her life she had gotten it.

Respect on the other hand...

"You're a fool. You're a fool!" Jill turned away and walked up to the chopper, she followed her letting Nicholai shout all he wanted - it wasn't the right moment. For a second she couldn't decide who he shouted at, but then realized it was for Jill - it was the performance for Jill. Nicholai would never beg. "If I die you'll never find out the truth."

There it was - the effect he had on her and on her whole being from the first second they've met. She liked him. She respected him. She could love him.

She didn't want him to die. Sure, he'd deserve a punch or two, but not death.

As Jill helped her climb into the chopper she realized that Nicholai knows that. He knows she likes him and respects him and that a part of her wants him in ways she shouldn't. He knew from the first talk they've had that he won't die here - no, because she will be the right escape plan.

"I don't mind a little detective work."

Jill climbed in - she didn't. She sat down, letting her legs dangle. Jill disappeared behind her, deciding to talk to Carlos.

She kept her gaze on Nicholai, who kept pressure on the wound. Their eyes met.

She tried to make herself unreadable, something new and uncertain - she wanted to shock him, surprise him even if she knew nothing can really come as a shock to a man like Nicholai Ginovaef.

She kept her mouth in a straight line, pressured her muscles to keep herself from smiling. But her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Nicholai smiled and let out a laugh. She didn't laugh with him.

"Did you learn?" the question came as a shock.

Did she?

She learned the basics. She knew what her own life meant and what a good accomplice meant. She learned to survive...

... yet she's about to do something what could kill her.

The answer is no. She didn't learn. Her wants and pure needs were greater than the voice inside her head saying: Go with Jill and repair the friendship as long as it can be repaired.

She didn't want to go with Jill - or Carlos.

The propeller started to move and then the helicopter started to ascend.

Half a meter - for a moment she saw something new on Nicholai's face.

One meter - it looked like pure betrayal.

"Hey, Jill!" she shouted through the sound of the propeller.

"Yeah?"

One and a half meters - she has to make sure they'll go without her.

"Go on a vacation after this!"

"You'll come with me, right?"

Right? She left her when the Nemesis attacked them in the subway. She felt sorry she did that, but she didn't regret it one bit.

She smiled at her friend.

Two meters.

"Go somewhere calm and sunny."

Jill's smile faded. "What do you mean?"

"It was nice to meet you Carlos." she looked at their temporary pilot and then back at her friend. "Have a great life Jill."

"What--"

Two and a half meters. She jumped.

She jumped and she heard Jill scream after her. She jumped and saw as the chopper stopped in the air for a few seconds.

She heard Carlos' voice through the noise, probably explaining that they don't have much time left. They knew that - everyone knew that: Carlos, Jill, Nicholai, herself. She calculated it perfectly.

She landed perfectly with a small, quiet puff.

"You didn't learn at all, did you?"

She made sure the chopper moved away and only then did she start to walk towards Nicholai.

"Sure thing I did." she started, trying to not grin. "You said it yourself, there's a price tag for everything."

Nicholai chuckeled, he understood the reference.

"And I really hope you'll pay me well enough."

She stretched out her arm, letting him grab her hand so she can pull him up.

"What makes you think I will? I could kill you, we could both die here."

She looked up at him when his grip on her hand changed. His hand moved up until it had a firm hold on her wrist.

"We won't die here. I'm pretty sure you have the keys for that other chopper right there." she tilted her head towards it. "You're too calculating to just wait for your own death."

"Why did you jump? You could've escaped with your friends. You have no further use of me just like I have no further use of you."

She looked up at him as if this would be the first time she really looked at him, examining his features, his eyes, his grin. She looked at him and for the first time she really saw what he tried to hide. She saw that he fell into the same trap she did.

"I did it for the same reason you didn't kill me." she started, swallowing, getting herself ready to say the next words: "You like me. And I like you too."

His gaze was cold. It explored her whole being, all the small cuts she had on her face and shoulders.

And he smiled. He smiled like he knows something she doesn't.

"Ty vazhen dlya menya. Ya nenavizhu eto." she didn't understand a word he said even if her heart fluttered at the sudden Russian. "Malen'kiy vyzhivshiy." he grinned.

"So," she began as she swallowed down the softness and hope she felt when he spoke up in Russian - it was pretty attractive just like his accent. "let's get out of here, no?"

His grip tightened even more and for a second she was afraid there'll be an ugly purple mark left behind. Her heartbeat quickened. God he had such a hold on her, on her whole being, he could control her in ways no one else could.

"What'll happen if you're wrong?" he leaned in, she was able to feel his breath on her face and he kept the eyecontact no matter where she looked. "What'll happen then, zólotse? You'll get nothing out of it, no? No money, no man, no life. Nichego."

She didn't hide away. She didn't take a step back. Nicholai wouldn't like that.

No, he wants her to answer, to say something, to prove what she is: is she worthy of survival or is she too shy and meaningless? He wouldn't leave her. It'd hurt him a bit too much, but she'd get a place in his book, a term.

She put one of her hands on his shoulder, her fingertips getting lower, closer to the wound. He took a deep breath - it must've hurt like Hell.

"But I am right. So it doesn't matter, does it?" she watched as her fingertips became red. "And let's be honest if I'd die tonight your money wouldn't be able to buy me back. I'm too interesting to play with, no?"

He liked that. He liked that short challenge. He liked that she didn't back down.

Her hand traveled lower until it reached a pocket. She kept the eyecontact even as she reached in to grab the keys she had suspected were there.

"Let's get going so we won't have to figure out what happens if we both die." she said after she held the keys in her hand.

She took a step back, but he stopped her. Even if he was wounded, he was still strong - stronger than her at least. He pulled her close, much closer than before. He only stopped when they were so close their noses almost touched.

She felt her eyelids get heavy. Her stomach fluttered, her heartbeat quickened. Every instinct in her, every piece of her body told her to get comfortable and get ready. Everything inside her told her to lean closer and kiss him.

But she didn't. And Nicholai didn't move either.

He just smirked and then whispered: "Malen'kaya ved'ma." It sounded like he teased her.

"You really want to die tonight, don't you?" she whispered too. "We should hurry up."

"Fine." he let go of her and then continued to press his hand on his wound.

They walked toward the other chopper and just as they got in, he continued to talk: "Ty mne nravish'sya."

She didn't know what it meant, but it sounded honest and soft - and Nicholai was a pretty rough man. He smiled and so did she.

No one was left behind that night. No one died and no one got paid. Because she didn't want to leave him and he didn't want to let her go.

Nicholai was a man driven by greed. If he found something he liked, he kept it. And he didn't like to share.

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @greypetrel and @demandthedoodles! It might be misleading to call this part of a WIP because upon editing I fear I may have to cut this bit. But it's too funny to toss into the void and it doesn't fit with anything else I'm working on at the moment, so here's part of a letter exchange between Varric and Fenris post-HLTA.

A series of letters passed between Skyhold, a dead drop on the border between Tevinter and the Free Marches, and northeastern Ferelden: 

28 Kingsway, 9:41 Dragon

Fenris, 

Hawke is fine. 

That’s how she wanted me to open this letter, so there: Hawke is fine. In my personal, expert opinion, I think it’s bullshit. She has that look about her—the one she had after Leandra died. You know the one I mean. 

I’ll let her tell you herself, because you’ll never believe me if I try to explain. I wouldn’t believe myself, to be honest. Her trip down the mountain keeps getting delayed, but officially she’s headed to Weisshaupt. She said you’d know what she meant by it. 

Don’t bother asking me why I’m the one writing to you and not her. I asked her the same thing and she wouldn't give me a straight answer. 

As for the Inquisition: I wouldn’t bother. Sort of get the feeling there’s too many folks here you’d rather avoid. The whole “castle on a hill” thing makes this place hard to sneak away from, I can tell you that from experience. We have good people here. They’ll figure this whole thing out. 

She refuses to stick around. Said she has a promise to keep, and she wouldn’t take any coin no matter how much they offered her. Between you and me, I tried to talk her into taking it—they’re good for it, and she might as well get something in exchange for everything else, but you know Hawke. She got that look in her eyes and said she’d have the loan of a horse and nothing else. Wasn’t really sure what else I could do. 

Just—take care of her, would you? 

Your friend, 

Varric

10 Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

Varric, 

You are mistaken. Where is she?

—F

15 Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

Fenris, 

You know everything I know. Would it kill you to sign your letters properly, by the way? You have no idea how many of these things I send and receive in a day. 

She left, is all I know. Didn’t want to be too specific for reasons I’m sure she’ll explain for herself.  I’m not keeping anything from you. She said what she said and she hasn’t written to tell me otherwise. I don’t know what to tell you, Broody. Maybe go where she sent you and wait. 

Listen, I’m set to go out on a set of missions in the next few days. They’ll pass on any messages, but I might not be able to answer right away.

Your friend, 

—Varric 

18 Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

Varric, 

Hawke was not there. Nobody was there. Where have they put her? If you cannot give me a straight answer, I will ask you in person. 

—Fenris

And finally, an undated and unfinished letter tucked inside a writing case in a Hinterlands encampment:

Broody, 

I can’t tell you anything you didn’t read in the first letter. 

Hawke left Skyhold in one piece. If I use the Inquisition’s agents to track her down, then they’ll know where she is. She explicitly asked me not to do that. So I’m not sure what you want me

The letter ends in a large, angled splotch of spilled ink.

(Originally, this was followed by a scene where Fenris is shaking Varric by the lapels. Despite being very funny, it didn't quite fit right, either. Alas. Someday.)

Tagging (no pressure as always, lmk if you don't want to be tagged, etc.): @daggerbean @dungeons-and-dragon-age @brother-genitivi @ndostairlyrium @idolsgf @gvnseylike @palipunk

[elizaellwrites]

OC in 15: Jacob

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks for tagging me here!

Rules: list fifteen or less lines of dialogue that capture the essence of an OC - the less context the better, but you may include some

“You forget to give back one pencil and you sign a life sentence,” he shook his head in false shame. “Maybe I should find new friends since you so obviously have an issue with my personality.”

“You know, I haven’t seen any of my family in six months,” ... “I didn’t think that when I said goodbye to my mom, I’d never see her again.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” ... “What is there to say?”

“You know,” Jacob’s eyes sparked with what could only be described as delighted rage. “I’ve really been waiting for this.”

“I reported her identity as soon as I confirmed it,” he bit out. “Even though I really didn’t want to. What else was I supposed to do, Father, leave her out there to die?”

“I have a lot to catch up on with my team. I’m afraid all other responsibilities have to wait until I’ve mended my mistakes. I’m sure you understand, Father.”

“I understand,” his own golden eyes flashed with anger. “But I hope you understand that I will fight your decisions that hold no merit.”

“Just because you’re upset with me doesn’t mean we leave a helpless kid to be vulnerable.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” he growled. “But there are warrants for our heads out there. Do you know what that means?”

“That was your second chance, and you’re missing the fact that you almost drove us into a lake,” ... “No more driving.”

“I am not like Father!”

“I will teach you how to protect yourself. You need to be able to fend for yourself, even if I’m there to protect you.”

“I know too well what my father’s supporters are capable of.”

“You are waving around a stick,” his matter-of-fact tone brought back that tiny urge she had locked away in her subconscious to smack him with said stick. “It takes more than two hours to master the art of waving around a stick.”

“Two,” he leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “Final offer, and only if you fix those issues we talked about.”

Tagging: @sarahlizziewrites, @phoenixradiant, @worldstogetlostin, @my-cursed-prince, and @bloodlessheirbyjacques