#esp ones that smell like her

[blee-bleep]

Little does everyone know - Diana has a small cache of objects she took from Akko; even Akko doesn't know.

anon, you are so fucking correct

[swordmaid]

having Thoughts about astarion currently and particularly abt him being undead as in I like the idea that he forgets to blink sometimes, and mimic breathing, and his skin is very pallid, his hair is a dull shade of white/grey and his red eyes looks kind of murky and there is no light in them. also like the idea that his face - even tho there’s wrinkles - looks too smooth, almost a mask, like hes very striking in an uncanny way, and if he keeps himself still he looks like a statue of some sort. and he paints colour on himself to look more alive but the pigments sits above his skin, not sinking in, and the only time that his complexion looks flushed and alive is when he’s feeding on something. most esp if he’s full and sated..! like for that brief moment his cheeks are flushed and he looks alive and thriving and panting and his eyes look more vibrant as if there’s life in there but then it disappears gradually. post canon astarion who’s no longer bound by cazador’s orders and who’s more or less free to eat whoever he wants looks more alive than bg3 spawn astarion (I think he is so malnourished in that era) and he has a slight colour on his cheeks bc he’s keeping himself fed but not enough to look fully alive, only just. think ascended astarion looks more alive than spawn though only bc I don’t think he’ll deny his whims and he’ll just eat whoever whenever while spawn has more restraint.

anyway I was also thinking of the possibility that spawn kind of drops that facade of a living creature, and he doesn’t bother putting on his pigments and makeup as much, and he uses less of his perfumes especially when he’s galavanting off to who knows where. maybe in settings if he’s visiting the city or meeting new people he’ll put his perfumes and makeup again - but sometimes he doesn’t, he doesn’t think he needs it. I also think about shri’iia liking his decay corpse smell hehe maybe she’ll find it familiar considering she grew up in the braeryn and there’s probably a corpse dumped in every gutter she’s like oh you smell like home 🥰

[meateater-rabbit]

[loverdude]

Lord help me for I'm so hungry

[astonmartinii]

friendship bracelets | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

charles' gf is beloved in the fandom for her love for frienship bracelets

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, charles_leclerc and 341,874 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: charles fell asleep mid craft session :(

view all comments

user3: she's everything, he's just ken

charles_leclerc: this is a false narrative, i was just resting my eyes and not allowing myself to distract you from your hard work

yourusername: i'd say you're a man of the people but your snoring is something else

charles_leclerc: I DO NOT SNORE TAKE THAT BACK

danielricciardo: i've taken enough flights with you charlie to confirm that you do in fact snore

charles_leclerc: i am being stabbed in the back so many times today you hate to see it

user4: i'm going to spa, guarantee me a friendship bracelet and i'll back you

charles_leclerc: done ✅

user4: charles marc herve perceval leclerc has factually NEVER snored in his entire life and any allegations that he has are both slanderous and libellous and you will be DEALT WITH IN A COURT OF LAW

yourusername: ummm what?

charles_leclerc: what colour bracelet do you want?

user5: what in the everloving fuck just happened?

lilymunhe: anyhow... y/n you are so sexy

yourusername: right back at you baby ;)

daniel3.jpeg

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 489,034 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

daniel3.jpeg: this friendship bracelet business is serious stuff, also charles and y/n being gross as usual

view all comments

user6: fuck romeo and juliet i want what these bitches have

yourusername: daniel do not underestimate the power of the friendship bracelets

danielricciardo: oh i'm not doubting it i saw a girl ignore me, jump across the hood of my car just to get one

yourusername: i mean i'm pretty sure that girl broke a toe, i paid for her health insurance

landonorris: people are breaking toes for these things?

yourusername: it was not the intent on my behalf, i just wanted a sister/brotherhood among fans

user7: don't make them so cute then

charles_leclerc: what do you mean gross? daniel, can i not be happily in love?

danielricciardo: i am happy for you charles but if i have to hear you break out in a sonnet about the smell of y/n's perfume or the colour of her eyes i will pull my hair out

yourusername: what hair?

danielricciardo: ????

yourusername: sorry i admit that was a low blow from me

user8: is that charles taking a pic of y/n in the last one?

yourusername: yes my lovely lil photographer

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, scuderiaferrari and 1,403,874 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1: make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, you've got no reason to be afraid ✨ y/n and charles arrived at spa this weekend with the friendship bracelets that are coveted by f1 fans!

view all comments

user11: all the loser men in this comment section making fun of these don't understand how much of a stan FLEX it is to have one of these

user12: no jokes if i see someone with one this weekend i'm offering them out on the spot

user13: i literally only put mine on after the race when i got home cause i was so scared it would get stolen

alexalbon: cringey faves

yourusername: are you still annoyed i ran out last race before you could get one?

alexalbon: why did lily get one before me :(((

lilymunhe: girlies first

yourusername: what lily said

user14: all jokes aside the whole friendship bracelet thing has been great for creating a sense of belonging for girls in this sport and i can't thank y/n enough for giving us something that is uniquely ours in f1

yourusername: that honestly makes me so so happy, girls get a tough ride in all sports, but esp in f1 and i wanted to find a way to bring us all together and i actually wanted to ask if the girls (and guys) wanted to start making our own and start exchanging them at races :)

f1: we back this !!

charles_leclerc: lift the jewellery ban so i can wear mine in the car

yourusername: i can't allow you to put that extra weight in the car the sf-23 needs all the help it can get

scuderiaferrari: :((((

user15: LOOOOOOOOOL

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and 509,871 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: my heart is so full. first, charlie back on the podium where he deserves to be, i'm so proud my love, you'll be back to winning ways soon. second, MY GIRLS. words cannot express how happy i was to see you all exchanging bracelets and making new friends! i also received so many from you which will all go in my collection at home. safe journeys back and see you guys after the summer break.

view all comments

user16: it really is the summer of the girls and barbie

user17: i've literally never felt more included at a gp before, so many girls just introduced themselves to each other and i made so many new friends :))))

charles_leclerc: thank you cheri, i love you always

yourusername: you deserve everything my love

charles_leclerc: also thank you everyone for the friendship bracelets, we got given enough for the entire ferrari garage has one as well as everyone who worked in paddock club this weekend!! keep spreading the love <3

user18: never have i ever loved a couple more than these two

user19: i am allowing my parasocial relationship to go wild rn

danielricciardo: thank you for starting this y/n even if i thought it was a bit silly to start with but my arms are full and i'm FEELING the love

maxverstappen1: same here, p is enjoying all her new bracelets 🧡

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 908,673 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: back on the podium - i'm very happy with that, the best way to go into the summer! thank you for all of your support ❤️

view all comments

user20: my king right there

user21: the rocketships don't count so p1 in my heart

yourusername: prince of monaco doing prince of monaco things

charles_leclerc: makes sense since you're my princess

landonorris: GAG

yourusername: let us be cute, be lonely on your own time

scuderiaferrari: proud of you charles

yourusername: build a better car i beg

user22: speaking for all of us

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,098,673 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: suprised her with a trip to paradise and she's still making friendship bracelets

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user23: they're both so sexy i can't

yourusername: i love you but you can't take the hobby out of the girl

user24: she loves us too much to stop now

yourusername: they're not wrong ....

charles_leclerc: you love me the most though, right?

yourusername: of course!!

user25: oh to be them

pierregasly: invite lost in the mail i see

charles_leclerc: literally the romantic trip you helped me plan?

pierregasly: i still i want you to take me for pasta dinners?

yourusername: back off frenchie

note: ENJOY, i kinda love this but let me know what you think - i am getting to requests but this popped into my head and i had to write it before i forgot

[poppy-metal]

hi poppy!!! im visiting from cats blog tihi!! am leaving you a little patrick thought, thinking you might enjoy

but patrick would totally be making out with readers cunt through her panties, i feel like he would generally. but esp as a punishment cuz its like enough to feel really good but not, at least personally, to actually cum from it :((( just so desperate begging him to take them off :((( maybe its even coach patrick and its after losing a match :((( need him to be mean and condescending about it too, like begging him to pls kiss your pussy, and hes just being mean and saying he already is? even tho he knows what you mean. just the most soaked sloppy panties by the time he finally takes them off

TIHIHI i get so shy and giggly thinking about mean coach pat, hes so hot

-🐞

mean coach patrick <333333

think he does it as a reward too - thought it feels more like a punishment with the way it's so torturous. he buys you a nice little hotel room - lays you out on the bed - "lay back for me, baby." and you think he'll tug your panties down - maybe with his teeth, like he's done before - but he doesn't. you're looking down at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth because he's so beautiful - so broad and big between your spread legs - trembling on either side of him. his eyes don't leave yours as he leans in and - oh god - presses his mouth right against your clothed cunt.

you're covered by your panties - pink ones with strawberries dancing across them - he'd grinned to seem them when he'd tugged your tennis skirt free from your ankles and tossed it aside - "cute." being all he said - but it was enough. enough to send heat blazing through you like molten lava. how you adored patrick - coveted him. felt butterflies in your tummy around him, erupting into flutters just from a glance from him - it was like a pathetic schoolgirl crush that refused to die down. even still, you couldn't believe this man wanted you back- had been inside you - was currently kissing your sodden cunt through the cotton.

"c - coach -" breathless. not a complaint or an urging, just saying it to say it. "ohhh." sighed out from you when he lay out the flat of his tongue - pressed it right against your slit through your panties. you felt the muted wet warmth of the sensation. knowing what his tongue actually felt like when it touched your bare flesh just made you all the more twisted in knots and eager for him.

he pulls back just enough to look at you - "you're already making a mess." he bites his bottom lip and leans in again to nuzzle your cunt, right where his tongue had just been. "god, your pussy smells so fucking good." he inhales and you flush all the way down to your toes. your hole leaks slick - despite how his words fluster you.

"im - I'm all sweaty from my match." you tell him, the vision of demurity. lashes fluttering. "I probably smell and taste gross."

patrick just huffs against you. his big hands come up under your ass, he grips the fleshy cheeks and yanks your pussy closer to him. you squeal as your lower half is lifted off the bed entirely, your legs scrambling to wrap around his shoulders for balance.

"dont call this shit gross." he warns. he presses his mouth against your cunt again. rubs his lips back and forth over you and drags your pussy lips into his hot wet mouth in one slow sucking drag that has your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. he moans sucking your pussy through your panties for one, two, three, four, pulls before he lets you go. "this is a winners pussy," he tells you. licks the flat of his tongue from ass to clit in one broad stroke. "and it tastes fucking amazing."

you can't argue with him, you don't want to. just curl your toes as he continues to mouth and lick at you through your little cotton panties. he completely soaks the fabric with his spit, until you can barely tell the difference from his tongue actually being on you. the fabric becomes sticky and shrinks in on itself, folding into the lips of your cunt in a thin line like a thong would - and patrick groans. tongues the tint string of fabric eaten up by the fat lips of your pussy until you're sobbing.

he drags a knuckle through your soaked slit, hooked your panties with it and pulls - until the slip of cotton is digging into your cunt - right through your slit and your clit, which squishes out on either side like it's trying to escape the bullying.

you're so wet your thighs are drenched. your hole clenching around nothing.

"patrick -" you whine- desperate.

he pulls the panties even more taut - your spine arches off the bed -

"that's not what you call me when you want to cum."

you brain shudders. your hips jerk.

"daddy." you whimper. and then again, crying it "daddy, daddy, daddy - "

he pulls the fabric back, finally pushing it the ruined soggy cotton aside to expose your drenched and swollen pussy to him.

he parts you with his other hand, making a v with his fingers, your labia split apart and your pulsing core at his mercy - your entrance fluttering at him. begging to be filled.

"look at that juicy fucking peach." he spits - right onto your hole and you wail, a trail of slick leaking out along with his saliva, he watches it trail down over your tight little puckered asshole. he groans.

"if you lost I was gonna fuck this ass." he tells you, licking his lips and unable to resist laying the pad of his thumb over the winking muscle. rubs his spit into the tightly furled rim as he grins up at your wide eyed expression. "yeah, I know. we've played back here, but daddy hasn't had this hole yet, huh? I'm not saying I was hoping for it but -" he shrugs. "- another time."

he drags his thumb back up, through the mess of your cunt. hooks it into your sopping hole and tugs down just to see the pink of your insides. all those pulsing hot walls about to massage his cock.

his free hand comes down to free his dick. it bobs hard and thick against his stomach. already leaking at the tip. flushed and eager to bury into something tight and wet.

"you were such a good girl, though." he tells you and he raises up, catches your legs when they start to fall off his shoulders and holds them there. he nods down at you. "take your reward, baby. put me inside you - feed that hungry fucking pussy some cock."

you don't need to be told twice.

[the-insomnia-strikes-back]

Annabel Lee cannot die. (Theory Nevermore Ep. 108)

Let's talk about the Nevermore Finale of Season I and why it's impossible for our White Queen to die here.

(I do apologise for all the spelling mistakes)

Annabel is scared. The cunning, cut-throat Annabel is scared as shit right now. Understandable, I would be as well if there was a monsterous stag about to get me. It does make her more human, showing that she isn't invincible (on an emotional level). I know from multiple character analyses on this website regarding Annabel that this isn't the first time she's shown that she aswell is just a person . However, it's still nice to see here. As most of the smarter members of the nevermore community say, she is a morally grey character whose ambiguity is beautifully written. As long as Lenore isn't with her, she is as terrified of dying (twice) as everyone else.

And because Annabel is not so different, not as much of an Ice Queen as all think, there is room for growth. We already saw it with her trying to be the true Poshbesties with Prospero as we hoped for. For plots' sake, it will take a while for her to open up to anyone else. However, I do believe that somewhere down the road, Annabel could be able to actually be friends with Ada. Proof? This panel right here:

Annabel Lee and Ada are equally afraid. They're in the exact same situation here, its dangerous, and there is no room for scheming shenanigans or what else. I do hope that they'll grow closer, seeing as Ada looks up to Annabel so much, she could be her guiding light in becoming her own person, rather than sucking up to others- trying to fit in - in hope of being loved or even appreciated (but as we know our chess queen, shell probably make her worse for her own sake first).

Now to my actual point, the reason why I am even making this post:

Annabel cannot and will not die.

I suspect she won't even be hurt (at least not seriously). Why? Well, my main reason is this interaction:

We know that the phantoms, esp. the dogs, attack anything that's breathing. Now, if it would be the same for the stag, then he would have no reason to huff at Annabel Lee. On the contrary, he would have attacked as soon as he laid eyes upon her and Ada, like his dogs.

So why wouldn't he kill/hurt Annabel? Because she is not his main quarry. Lenore is. We know (as long as the raven isn't mistaken) that the Wild Hunts' main goal is getting Lenore. He must have smelled Lenores scent on Annabel, as they've interacted and even hugged on the arboretum (to avoid falling to death that is) the very same day, since him huffing at her, smelling her.

Same reason why Nurse Dolly is still alive as well. She saw the stag, it was staring her right in the eye, but rather than him, his dogs were the ones who attacked. He has no interest in anyone besides his quarry.

Besides the in-story reasons, someone on the nevermore discord also said that rednflynn already confirmed and roughly planned 4 seasons of Nevermore. So, it would make no sense to kill one of the protagonists so early on in the series.

Now, multiple people already expressed their hopes that Lenore - like the Prince Charming she is/was in her previous life - will come and save Annabel, maybe even getting her spectre. I do not believe this will happen. There are multiple reasons for that. Firstly, it would throw off the whole dynamic of the two groups, kinda destroying Annabel Lees + Lenores' plan. Secondly, Ms. Poppet already explained that transforming into your spectre to confront the wild hunt is basically a suicide mission. And I doubt that Lenores spectre would have enough plot armour to overpower the stag.

Third and foremost: It's too soon. And it would be kind of anticlimactic. Lenores Spectre is one of the biggest mysteries in the series. Her transforming in the first few episodes of the second season would ruin one of the most fun speculations of the nevermore community. Personally, for me, it would make reading the webcomic further on a little bit less engaging. Here is how I believe it will more likely go down:

Annabel + Ada will be saved by either Prospero, the deans (unlikely, since they can not be contacted in dreamland) or just a lapse of judgement in the stags mind. Either they use the moment of silence right now, with prospero/will/montresor showing up and making a run for it with Annabel and Ada, or the stag will ignore them (since their not his quarry) or someone, a background character or so, will take his attention off them by screaming or panicking. Of course, this is only about the stag. We do not know if the phantom riders with him are like the dogs, impolitely aggressive from head to toe/tail, or if they're more the secondaries to the stag, only attacking when necessary.

Edit: I am not sure if the 4 Seasons are really confirmed or if my mind just really really deluded itself, so take it with a grain of salt...

Edit Part 2: Nvm the comments are so thoughful and confirm it, that Nevermore will have 3-4 seasons

[spideyjimin]

Right time (preview)

⤷ part of the timing series 

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader 

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut 

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ words: 1,055

⏤ summary: following your reunion with jungkook, getting back together seems to be the right thing to do however everything is different. jungkook is a father, running the company you’re working for, and there are still things to be solved. nonetheless, it can’t erase the tremendous physical attraction between you. is it now the right or wrong time?  

⏤ author’s note: thanks all for waiting for this little preview & thanks as well for voting! here you have it & hopefully, very very soon right time will be all yours. as you can notice, the banner changed & I also hope you like it ☺️ don't hesitate to let me know what you think of this little preview, thanks for reading 💞

To say that Jungkook was nervous was an understatement. He’s going out on a date with you. He’s literally screaming on the inside like a 5-year-old that finally got the candy they were asking for. He’s been waiting for this for years and also, he hasn’t been on a proper date in a while. But he’s very much excited. 

“Hi,” you say as you step outside of the apartment complex. 

A bright smile appears on both of your faces when you see each other. Honestly, having had sex a couple of days ago brought some happiness to your lives. You’ve been feeling more alive than ever, and nothing can erase that feeling. Well, at least, that’s what you thought. 

There are still things left to discuss but right now, you’re both on cloud 9 so you don’t feel the necessity to talk. You simply want to stay in your little cloud a little longer which means that you’ll do everything to stay there. 

“Hi, yn,” Jungkook offers you the bouquet he’s holding in his hands. 

“Thanks for the flowers,” you reply as you take the bouquet. 

Your eyes move from Jungkook to the flower arrangement, it’s a very pretty one. This kind of surprises you since Jungkook never bought you flowers when you dated before but you have to forget about the past. Things are different now as you both are very different people today. 

“Arya helped me choose them,” the smile on his face grows bigger while remembering being in the flower shop with her. 

At first, he was planning to go alone to buy you flowers but then, he was spending the day with his daughter so he brought her up to have her little opinion. Now, she’s staying at her mama’s place for the 3 upcoming days. Jungkook hasn’t mentioned anything about you to Eunji yet but for sure, Arya will mention the bouquet to her mother so he’s very much aware that he’ll have to at least explain something to Eunji. 

“Well, you both have good taste in flowers,” you quickly smell the beautiful bouquet. 

“She’s my daughter so she definitely has good tastes,” he instantaneously answers. 

A little laugh leaves your lips at his words. That’s easy to say when it’s your own daughter, you think but his words also warm your heart. It’s so sweet that he let his daughter assist him in choosing a bouquet of flowers for you. And it’s also extremely sweet how he speaks about her. 

“Your tastes can be very much questionable,” you tease him. 

With surprise, he raises an eyebrow. He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear you say those words but he’s undeniably liking being teased by the woman he loves deeply. 

“If mines are questionable, then yours are dubious,” he doesn’t hesitate to reply, “especially your taste in men,” he adds. 

“For sure, it is because I’m still wondering how on earth I could have fallen for you,” you end up laughing. 

But the truth is how you could have not fallen for him. It’s easy to love him, and it feels even easier to be loved by this man. There are for sure many things to say about your love for him but it’d take you probably days or weeks or even more to list all the reasons you fell hard for him. 

“That’s exactly what I was referring to,” he adds. “Not sure how you fell for me, especially back then.” 

Hearing him saying that inevitably breaks your heart, even if he’s joking. For sure, back then, he wasn’t the best person on earth, he was a fuckboy after all. He was very much known on the campus for being the guy who fucks every girl he meets, and for being a heartbreaker. But he was perfect for you. Beyond that image of fuckboy, he was the sweetest guy you had ever met.  

“Don’t say that,” you gently slap him on the arm. 

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you saw in me when we started dating,” his stare becomes quite sincere.  

Now, your heart is very much broken by his words. This man doesn’t even see how pretty and amazing he is. But beyond that, he’s without any doubt the most brilliant person you’ve ever met. Even back then, what charmed you was his mind and heart. It was never about his looks because if it was for that, you wouldn’t have approached him at all. He was a fuckboy, the kind of guy that you hated. 

“I saw your heart underneath all those walls,” you say before placing your hand on his chest, right above his heart. 

Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. He can’t even express what he’s feeling right now but he’s absolutely sure of one thing, he feels lucky to be with you here and now. His hand caresses yours, both of you with a little smile on your faces. This moment is undeniably heartwarming for the two of you. 

“But you were the only person that I let in,” he whispers. “You’re the only one that got to see who I truly was.” 

At his words, you inevitably squeeze him in your arms for a tight hug, your head pressed against his chest. It surprises him but he holds you back. While hugging you, it reminds him just how much he missed it. When you were together, you used to hug each other a lot. It brought a lot of peace to the two of you, it was a moment where everything would disappear for an instant. It was a moment of pure happiness. 

Just as it is right now.

None of you want this moment to end. This feels extremely good. You hold him even tighter in your arms, you don’t desire to let go of him. You close your eyes to enjoy this moment even more. This is something you also missed deeply. Well, to be honest, you deeply missed Jungkook. Maybe more than you’ll ever admit. 

“I love this,” you whisper very low. Jungkook hears it and can’t help but smile even more. He doesn’t say anything, he’s simply enjoying this moment with you. Hopefully, this won’t be a one-time thing. He’s hopeful that you’ll get to do this more often. Because a hug always heals a heart.

[mysticmunson]

imagine trying out that pheromone perfume on alpha steve…just to see if it’s legit and he comes home to you cooking or baking at the counter and his entire body is like ! where is my sweet angel princess omega!!! i need to touch her !

and he’s not sensing anything out of the ordinary esp since he’s missed you all day so he comes up behind you and wraps you in a hug, kissing against your cheek and jaw with a sweet “hi baby-” but as his lips meet your jaw he smells it (not knowing what it is but it changes his entire demeanor) he’s nuzzling into your neck, and rutting into your ass like “mmm baby you smell so fucking good. holy fuck.”

just grunting and groaning , sloppy kisses completely distracting you, and then he bends you over and ravishes you right on the kitchen counter🥰

oh this is beautiful, i’ve been having writers block so i apologize that this isn’t longer but i may come back to this bc… wow

Honestly, you thought it was a scam, something that people sell as gag gifts or well-intentioned hoaxes. But part of you hoped the pheromone perfume would work, not that your sex life with Steve had been anything except incredible since presenting together, rather out of curiosity.

With a dab to your neck, you faintly smelled something that felt reminiscent of the scent of need. Like going into a bakery and noting the aroma of pastries, unable to identify them specifically. Not precisely yours, but close.

So you grumbled over the waste of money, barely recalling it was there after a few minutes, and began cooking dinner. Steve had been working the closing shift, something Keith usually took, but it fell into your boyfriend's lap today.

The wooden door smacked against the frame as he entered, shoes coming off near the opening mat.

As it wore off on you, Steve noticed it instantly, the potent need filling his senses. Not recognizing the food you were prepping, he placed hands on your hips, pulling you close to him.

With your back against his chest, he nosed at your neck, growling so low that it sent vibrations down your spine.

“Smell so good, honey.” He manages to say, hands wandering across your midriff.

Feeling flushed, you wanted to remove your sweatshirt, but it seemed your alpha was a moment away from tearing it off.

“Thank you, Stevie, it’s your favorite pasta-“ You began, about to ask how his shift went until he grunted.

“Not what I’m talking about.” He stated, making you realize what the perfume was invoking in him as he adored your family recipe of tomato sauce.

Squeaking as he turned you around, kissing your neck feverishly, your own fingers going to his hair. He soon moved to your lips, enveloping yours with a hum, growing painfully aroused beneath his right jeans.

“Wait, Stevie-“ You laughed, his lips pulling away puffy and pink, his cheeks flushed red. You swiped the spit dripping onto his chin before grabbing the plate you had just made for him, “Need to eat first.”

“I don’t want to eat that right now,” He breathed with no malice or impatience. Setting the glassware on the counter, you grew embarrassed, making him furrow his brows.

“I bought this pheromone perfume, I thought it didn’t work.” You revealed, his interest peaking immediately as he went back to sniffing your neck, “Are you really getting-“

The answer to your inquiry came fast as he pulled your hand to the swelling beneath his jeans, a wonton gasp following.

“It doesn’t smell like you, but, shit, I need you. It’s like it’s making yours louder.” He groaned, impatient, he turned you around as your chest pressed onto the countertop.

“So needy,” You whisper, only getting a smack on the bottom, “Ow!”

“Watch it.” He scolded, though he could be further from irritated, too focused on the easiest way to remove your clothes without ripping them.

(He had ripped off your clothes twice before, fueled by the need to see you bare, which he earned complaints for. The agreement was that he could tear underwear, but he had to take you out to buy new ones afterward)

As if you could read his mind, some of his favorite words left your mouth, “You can rip them.”

Steve’s heart began racing, laughing against your neck, “Oh, you have no idea what you just did, honey.”

mutuals :) : @lilacletter @lesservillain @andvys @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic january 9 - write - 946words - feat. fem!harry because i was craving girldads

(this one also esp goes out to @veryinnovative)

“Papa?”

“Yes, mon chou?” Regulus responds, shaking a curl out of his eyes to look over his shoulder as he keeps stirring.

Harrie is still bent over her artwork, crayon held in a tight fist, pigtails standing askew with half her hair falling out of them and in her little face anyways.

“Will you help me write my name?”

Regulus lowers the temperature of the stovetop to let the sauce simmer as he puts on the lid, “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

He crouches down to check the potato wedges and veggies in the oven, satisfied when they look according to the alarm he set, and gives his hands a quick rinse before he saunters over to his daughter.

The soles of his plush slippers are a faint noise against the whirring of the oven and the soft bubbling of the pot. The air smells warm and cozy with the home-cooked meal and the drying clementine peels that are still on the table from Harrie’s earlier snack.

Regulus bends over her to regard her painting, nose buried into her wayward hair, inhaling. It smells like her Strawberry Shortcake (the kid’s show) shampoo, like James’ cologne and still that distinct brand of baby that Regulus is utterly obsessed with and hopes she never loses. Well, at least as long as she’s small enough for him to still pick her up.

Harrie is unperturbed, keeps drawing little blue petals around a flower besides what Regulus assumes must be their cat, Mochi. Or maybe a very oversized ant. His little artiste.

“Can I give you a kiss?” Regulus mumbles into the crown of her head.

“Yup.” 

Harrie squeals when Regulus plants a loud smooch on her chubby cheek. She smells like grapes and walnuts there too. James must’ve packed them for her lunch in kindergarden.

She tapers off into a hearty giggle when Regulus keeps peppering kisses before he lets himself fall into the kitchen chair beside her.

“So,” Regulus says pointedly, making a show of granting her his undivided attention.

Harrie nods her head, making little, silly Mhm-mhm-mhm noises. Like she’s trying to convey the importance of what follows. Or like she has a tune stuck in her head. Regulus bets his money on both.

He grins, tucking a strand behind Harrie’s ear that just falls right back into place. “Where do you want your name?”

A tongue pokes out of the corner of his daughter’s mouth and she turns her pen to point at the top edge with the end of it, “Right here.”

“Alright.”

Harrie chooses another color for her signature and then they begin to write together.

“An H. Huh—as in house,” Regulus makes, Harrie repeating the sound automatically. “Two straight lines down and then one across the middle. Good job.”

“Then Ay,” Harrie continues. The beginning of the alphabet she’s already got memorized.

“That’s right, mon chou.”

“Ha-rrr.”

“An R—that’s a straight line, with a bump on top and a leg on the bottom. That’s it. We need another one of those, remember? Your name has two.”

Just as Harrie sets onto the next letter Regulus hears a car rumble up into their driveway, head instinctively swiveling around to the window.

When he looks back down the second R isn’t entirely correct. “Whoops—look, this one has its leg on the wrong side, honey.”

“Oh,” Harrie makes, eyebrows rising, and she goes to grab her eraser.

She corrects her letter and then proceeds to draw the I without prompting from Regulus, adding a wonky heart on top.

“Good job. And an—”

“E–like eeeraser,” his daughter sings, adding the three horizontal lines to the last letter, right as Regulus hears a keychain jingle against the front door.

Harrie is now drawing a little star next to her name as James comes into the kitchen with Mochi in his arms, a leaf sticking to his paw.

“Daddy,” Harrie yells, scrambling down from her chair and hasting into James’ arms, Mochi already fleeing for his cat tree, presumably.

James hums delightedly, smiling as he squeezes their daughter to his chest, “Mm, mi amorcito.”

He’s still in his coat and beanie from outside, glasses fogging up—though luckily for him, he’s had the mind to slip out of his boots at least.

Harrie rubs her palms along James’ stubbled jaw when they pull apart, making him chuckle. “Missed me?”

“A little,” Harrie shrugs.

“Oh, only a little, huh?” James challenges, whisking Harrie up and whirling her around in the air, twirling himself and making her scream with joy.

He sets her against his hip after he successfully lost one of her hair ties on his little escapade, never to be found again or for Mochi to play with.

“Smells amazing, love,” James says warmly, gazing at Regulus before helping Harrie gently pull out the other hair tie too.

Which reminds him Regulus to check on the sauce again. 

He smiles sweetly at his husband and wanders back over to the counter, grabbing the lid with a kitchen mitten and stirring the thickening sauce as he gets hit by its savoury tang and hint of black pepper and parsley.

At his back he hears Harrie and James babbling, conversing about something or the other as she takes her seat again. Something about finger paints and Ron and tea cup and pee accident.

Regulus is just stretching to get some plates when there’s strong arms wrapping around him from behind, prompting his lips into another immediate smile.

“Mi vida,” his husband mumbles, pressing a soft kiss behind Regulus’ ear.

James is warm and smells like caramel latte and outside air and the same hint of cologne found in their daughter’s hair.

[doitforbangchan]

Ooo, how do all the boys react to baby’s nest the first time? Are there some who have a complete pass to go in and out of it as they please? Are there some members who have to or choose to still ask if they can?

I figure Chan probably tends to ask every time just to be sure, he kinda makes all of the alphas ask esp since a nest is so important to omegas. I feel like maybe some of the betas have a full pass for it since baby knows they won’t mess it up or add/remove anything (even accidentally)

I had this somewhat angsty thought that when baby gets truly upset she goes to her nest bc she knows none of the boys would violate that space. Like maybe one day Chan says something that kinda sets her off, he didn’t mean it tho, and she storms off to her nest to be away from everyone and to calm down as best she can bc everyone else is out of the house so there’s no one for her to go and hide behind or with. Chan follows her to her nest and he’s so used to being let in he almost goes in after her but he hears her growl at him for the first time and he almost looks like he’s about to fall off a cliff the way he stops in his tracks, knowing it’s super invasive especially since he’s the pack alpha, still breaks his heart tho not being let in, but decides to sit outside the nest, pumping out calming pheromones as she sniffles and tries to calm down. He keeps asking if he can be let in when they make eye contact by just looking at the little divot where they all normally crawl in and she just doesn’t answer. Eventually she nods a little bit and he hops in so quickly he almost knocks some stuff over in it and oh boy would that be a lot to deal with right now. But then he gets to comfort her fully and stuff.

But I imagine how h e a r t b r e a k i n g it must be for some of them the first time baby doesn’t allow them in the nest or how nerve wrecking it is the first time they try to enter it, cause while she wants their approval of the nest they need hers just as much.

Ugh imagine if one of them says something that comes off a bit wrong or if they say it too slowly and baby just gets upset bc she doesn’t think her nest is good enough.

I need your pretty head to elaborate on some of this p l e a s e. Thank you babes.

- 🌙

Baby's nest is so important! I feel like she's been secretly taking little things from around the house that smell like the boys and stashes them in her room. It starts with things from common areas - like a throw pillow that changbin loves to nap with, or the blanket hyunjin uses during movie nights.

Then it would turn into baby taking things from their laundry baskets. She'd steal shirts and cotton shorts and anything soft really. Oh but then she needs more and starts going into their rooms and taking their pillows and sheets and stuffies. It would all go straight to her nest where whenever she's alone she goes and readjusts and snuggles within the huge scent pile.

I think she would be pretty lenient with all the boys- especially the softer of the betas *cough cough* felix han and hyunjin*cough* and they are all generally allowed in whenever they want and omega is present. She would not stand for a member being in her nest without her also there to make sure they don't fuck with it! Her nest is one of the only things she gets truly upset or territorial over so they better take it seriously

On the days leading up to her heat (or on days she's just feeling emotional and mean) she would deny everyone access unless they could provide a fully scented item that meets her standards to add to the nest 😤only then would they be allowed entry. and absolutely NO EATING IN THE NEST! baby almost bit innies head off for sneaking in some chips and he wasn't allowed back in for days 😢

honestly i think you kinda nailed that situation with channie. He would literally be so devastated if his normally sweet and gently omega denied him entry and growled at him?! nothing in his entire life would ever make him feel so terribly. he'd pace around in front of the open door, stopping every few seconds to see if she had changed her mind but every time he just sees the blazing glare staring back at him, inferno crossing over her eyes. eventually he grows desperate and starts trying to appeal to baby in other ways. he'll sit out there for hours, singing her favorite songs and reminiscing on how much fun that thing they did the other day was. really he's trying to remind her of happier times and pray she take mercy on him.

eventually baby can't take seeing her mate so distressed and she gives in, mumbling in the quietest voice ever that he can come in,,, if he promises to behave 🥴and brings her another stuffy to add to the nest

[outsidersheadcanons]

A few random headcanons that I have of the greasers

•Ponyboy cant sing or dance and is super embarrassed abt it so he never does

-but one night Two Bit brought him over to his house and his little sister somehow forced Ponyboy to play a dance game with her and when Two Bit saw them he laughed so hard he ended up choking (Its up to you to figure out what Two Bit did what that info)

•Ponyboy gets sick super easily

-Darry has an abnormally strong immune system so he barely ever gets sick

•Steve can handle spice really well and Sodapop tears up when smelling something spicy

•Dally kinda needs glasses (it isnt that bad tho) but will never get it because itll ruin his ‘tuff’ image

-Darry is the only person who knows this and constantly urges Dally to at least get contacts but Dally never listens

-Johnny is sort of noticing it but he doesnt think much of it

•Sodapop will purposefully play the cringest music ever just to piss of Steve, only to find out that Steve likes it

-Sodapop makes fun of him for it

•Two Bit creates the craziest conspiracy theories and gets Sodapop to back him up to annoy the others

•Johnny and Darry are both really good when it comes to medical stuff

-Johnny has the skills to patch people up because he’s had to do it to himself often, and also because Dally goes to Johnny whenever he’s badly beaten

-Darry patches the whole gang up almost all the time and has gradually gotten better to the point one of his nicknames is ‘Doc’

•Most of the gang has some form of insomnia except for Two Bit, Dally and Steve

These are all canon. congratulations

esp the one abt Darry patching everyone up, he’s definitely taken a few babysitting/first aid classes at the YMCA when he was a teen.

[rsanchezslut]

Bless us with all those sweet Rick x reader headcanons you hold

!! thank you sm for asking !! i'm not sure how many i have in such a broad sense, but here are some HCs i usually apply when thinking abt a relationship w/ rick!!

xXx

-i always imagine you meet Rick through Beth somehow. In my head, it's usually though an exercise class of sorts (Zumba, bc my first R+M hyperfixation was when I was doing dance twice a week LOL), but I also really like the neighbors approach too (typical) because i think it's fun to think she starts inviting you over to have wine nights with her and you become really good friends!!

-I also love HCing Morty bonding with you too!! Seeing the way you make his mom happy and pique Rick's interest in just the right way makes him literally. Want. to befriend you. He thinks you're cool and also genuinely NICE ASF which lowkey pisses Rick off for a bit but makes him all the more inclined to like, actually talk to you (bc he's jealous you won over Morty so easily<3)

-Rick definitely goes (a little) out of his way to impress you (eventually). not... overboard, because he's still Rick and his literal brand is not caring ofc, but... i do think he enjoys it, per se, esp season 5+ Rick who's a lot more considerate... when you seem interested in what he's doing and actually want to talk about it. Part of him is def still skeptical, but... it grows on him the closer you get emotionally ...

-Rick is surprisingly appreciative of acts of service!! Esp. things like cooking him food / doing laundry, and even more so if who you're helping is Beth, Morty or Summer!! I always think about you dropping off food for the family if Beth is working late, or helping summer w/ her homework... and i for sure see it as something Rick... notices and pays attention to.

-I LOVE RICK'S LITTLE COT in his room. it is so silly to me that he sleeps on that in HIS fucking DAY CLOTHES. So I think he gets all weird abt spending the night at your place. Maybe weird is the wrong word, but like. usually he's down to fuck and then just go home (or spend the night but not care abt the emotional significance of it and skip your morning together) and it's like. Lmaoooooo.

which I think for a while you're kinda cool w/ because... idk. It's not that serious? but the first time you actually have a real sleepover in your own space (and not an alien motel or his car) is genuinely so. intimate. and signifies and big change

-omf there was only one bed fic WHEN???? sharing a room fic WHEN?????

-but FUCKING IN HIS CAR HAS DEFINITELY HAPPENED absolutely. the way he had a little curtain when he was w/ daphne ... you have def used that curtain. and literally slept back there too.

-he has more dad/caring traits than he realizes. Sick? Sleep it off. Need a nap? Here's a bed. Always has everything you need on hand and is willing to give it to you <3

-he thinks it's hot when you fight with him and doesn't take you serious half of the time because of it

-when he doesn't smell like alcohol and oil he actually smells. so fucking good. Naturally sweet and kinda musky but in such a comforting sense!! u always know if he's been around somewhere in the house bc the scent lingers (or maybe youre just sensitive to him, who knows)

-one day we need to talk about his horrible possessive-ness streak when you actually manage to get close to him. Always talking abt how he doesn't care but really he's a HORRIBLE liar. coping mechanisms are 0/10 (tell me why he's surprised to find out you need to cope too LMFAO)

[karniss-bg3]

i know you usually don't tackle female!tav x kar'niss but if you had to give it a shot... just something wholesome maybe? esp since the Absolute is feminine-coded all throughout the game, the overtones could be there for kar'niss to see a kind good-aligned femme!tav as a goddess to worship all for himself. maybe just a scene of her tending to his wounds or arachnid peculiarities as a drider—i.e: maybe he molts and the process is painful but she helps him through it with comfort and grace?

[Music]

Where had he gone? Morning light had broke and there were no signs of her eight-legged companion. Tav crawled out of her sleeping bag to survey the area with mild concern etched over her face.

“Kar’niss?”

She surveyed the area, her ears coming to perk as she caught the sound of shuffling from a nearby cave. Unafraid she advanced toward the noise, casting the light cantrip in an effort to shoo away the darkness. She’d come to find a figure huddled at the back of the cavern, curled in tight against the rock face in an effort to make himself as small as possible. She frowned while she carefully stepped closer, willing the lights nearer to get a better look at him. She noticed signs of damage along the abdomen of his lower half, the flesh knotting and bunching up unnaturally over the carapace.

“Gods, what’s happening? Are you alright?” She’d ask while trying to wander closer.

“Don’t!” He retreated tighter against the wall wanting to maintain the greatest distance between them. “This is not for you. Go away.”

She could sense the fear in him, the pain. His leg at the far back of his body lifted and curled in a vain attempt to scrape over his molting mound with pathetic results. He snarled in frustration, planting his hands against the wall, his torso slumped. She wouldn’t be intimidated able to see he was in need.

“I’ll be back,” she said, darting off.

In a few moments she returned with pack in hand, placing it down nearby to root around for supplies. Kar’niss’ eyes narrowed as he watched, a deep reverberating trill vibrating within his throat akin to a growl. Tav heard the sound for what it really was, cries from a wounded animal who didn’t know how to ask for aid. She pulled a bottle of light gray paste from her bag, unscrewing the lid and giving it a sniff to make sure the contents were still good. It smelled medicinal, a sharp tang of bitter roots and sap combined to make a potent salve. Satisfied with her test she rose and approached Kar’niss once more.

The drider reared up in response, his pedipalps rising and extending outward in a threatening manner while his two front most legs stamped into the ground with defiance.

“S-Stay away…!” Kar’niss panted, a panic starting to bubble within him. Every woman he’d ever trusted had inevitably hurt him, betrayed him in some way. Used, abused, and discarded when his usefulness had run out, why would Tav be any different?

But Tav was different, even if he could not yet see it. She held up the jar so he could get a better look. The contents were boring, bland and unimpressive in appearance, hardly what one would think could fell a drider.

“It’s medicine, Kar’niss. It will help ease the pain, allow you to heal faster. See?” She used two fingers to scoop up a dollop of the paste, applying the portion onto her own arm and rubbed it in like lotion. Once done she extended her arm so he could see for himself. It looked perfectly normal. Her flesh didn’t melt away, bubble or boil from the application, nor did it turn any unusual colors. The scent was so strong that he got a whiff and his head jerked back in response to how it tickled the inside of his nostrils.

He still seemed hesitant about what was on offer. That is until another pang of pain ripped through his body, his entire frame quaking in response. His expression twisted and teeth grit in anguish.

“Hnnng!” He tried to turn and reach back to touch the pained segment but he couldn’t reach, his spine unable to twist at such an angle. His brows furrowed, his attention returning to Tav who tried so hard to offer him help. With his lips pressed into a thin line a slow sigh spilled from his lips. “You may...apply this medicine. But do not linger!”

She smiled at him. “Thank you. It...might sting a little, but far less so than what you’re enduring now.”

Tav approached his side to get a better look at the damage. It did seem he was molting and only midway through, suggesting this would be a long day. The carapace that had fallen away left tender pink flesh behind, exposed and vulnerable during this stage of the process. She’d first snap away the dead skin that still clung to him, knowing better than to peel beyond that. This process couldn’t be hurried it needed to continue at the pace it was destined to go. Still, she could at least be rid of the excess and provide him relief from the weight.

Kar’niss was on edge throughout, watching over his shoulder at the ready for the flash of a dagger, the buzz of threatening magic, anything she could do to strike at him. None of that would come to pass. Instead with the removal of the discarded carapace she now had access to the fresh skin below. Her fingered dabbled into the salve and applied a coating over the surface. Despite her warning about the inevitable sting, Kar’niss scrambled and backed up into the corner, a monstrous screech echoing throughout the cave.

Tav backed up quickly and held up her hands. “Easy, easy now. Shh it’s alright.” She cooed, her voice maintaining a delicate hum to keep things calm.

A sheen of sweat trickled over Kar’niss’ face along with the threat of tears in his eyes, heavy exhales of breath pushed between his clenched teeth. He was on the verge of snapping at Tav once more until he felt something unexpected; Relief. The salve started to work it’s magic over the affected area. A cooling sensation crept over the sensitive skin leaving behind a pleasant tingle, effectively numbing the nerves from further assault. He blinked in stunned silence. Her method not only worked but it stopped the pain rather than enhancing it. He glanced at his rounded back-end with a firm look of contemplation, his abdomen lifted and issued a cursory wiggle. His gaze then darted back to her, his savior, the anger steadily fading away.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Tav smiled and screwed the lid back onto the jar. “It should stave off the pain for at least a few hours, I’ll need to apply more after that. At least now you know what to expect. We can remain here until the process finishes. I’ll keep an eye out, guard the cave and bring you something to eat. How does that sound?”

Kar’niss bobbed his head in a quick nod, still a little taken back by this new revelation. He rubbed at one of his arms to self soothe, struck by a new wave of thoughts he didn’t know how to process yet.

“...Thank you,” he whispered.

Tav stepped closer and rested her fingertips on one of his pedipalps, another gesture that brought him great shock. “You’re welcome. Remember I am here for you, okay?” Their eyes met briefly which made something inside his chest flutter, wild and free. His lips trembled enough to where he jerked his gaze away, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“I won’t be gone long. Let me know if the pain returns,” Tav said. She’d then slip away to give the drider his space, smiling at him over her shoulder until her silhouette faded from the cave entrance.

Kar’niss looked on in an effort to process it all. He lowered himself to the ground to rest while the pain was quelled, glancing back from time to time where the medicine had been applied. Steadily a slow, lopsided smile tugged at his scarred lips, a warmth growing inside of him unlike any he’d known before. He looked to the cave entrance, watching and waiting, for her to return.

“My Queen.”

[dear-ao3]

absolutely, completely and in all other ways OUTRAGED that @wearewatcher did not include dr. heinz doofenshmirtz on their list of disney dilfs.

is he technically from disney channel? yeah. does that matter? no. is he better than pongo and maurice and king triton? absolutely.

and i will tell you why.

as we all know, doofenshmirtz had a horrible upbringing:

-his own parents didnt show up for his birth -he had to throw his own surprise party -big black boots boris the bully kicked sand in his face -a kid outshined him at a science fair with a baking soda volcano -his mom wouldnt let him swim in pools -his dad won a dog and said it was the son he never had and named it only son -had to wear dresses to school -he smelled like pork ?? idk this one doesnt get explained -his brother was better at kickball than him -his brother got the teddy bear he got out of a claw machine and it ruined the family dynamic -he couldn't make pretzels -he failed as a magician -his first date was ruined -he lost a girl to a dude with big hands -has no coordination -accidentally ended up in america? -lived with a family of ocelots ??? -he had to be a garden gnome -was always thwarted and outshined by his brother roger

yea you get the idea

but does he pass any of this down to his daughter, vanessa??

no! he does not!

-he actually takes his daughters advice -he is a fantastic single dad and makes a good life for her (and supports her being goth. very important.) -he is civil with his ex wife also (which helps vanessas childhood) -he brings vanessa to work and tries to bring her into the family business -he wants his inators to be fun for her as a learning experience -he always gives her extravagant birthday parties !!! esp her sweet 16!!! -he does not direct his negative feelings towards his daughter ever, its always towards perry -he spends 10 years looking for a discontinued mary mcguffin doll!!! for her!!

and so on

instead of being horribly to his daughter he rather brilliantly uses his arch nemesis (perry the platypus) as a free therapist (rather ingenious in this economy) and channels his childhood trauma into creating his inators in order to take over the tri state area.

so hes definitely dedicated, knows his way around a toolbox and programming (valuable skills in the technology age), broke through the stigma of generational and childhood trauma, and hes just a little bit evil. as a treat. at least in terms of ryans criteria he is a fantastic dad. and that is what we are judging the dilfs on.

so in conclusion. @wearewatcher. why isnt dr. heinz doofenshmirtz on the top 5 disney dilfs list???

[luveline]

hihihi! request for zombie steve au! maybe someone at the college bullies reader into thinking she’s not good enough for steve?

just gotta say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE all your works & esp this au 😩 it just does something to me

hi thank you so much for your request! I didn't make it so severe as bullying I don't think, but tw for bullying just to be safe, and suggestive! tw mentioned weight loss <3 zombie!au steve 9k words

The dinner line is long and winding. You and Steve stand elbow to elbow, the smell of refried beans and homemade tortillas near hypnotising.

"I know the tortillas are gonna taste a little weird, I just don't care," you say, the hand you’ve curled around your boyfriend's forearm squeezing enthusiastically. 

"Imagine if they had cheese," he taunts. 

"Don't be evil, Steve." 

His laugh dissappears into the swelling sounds of a hundred conversations. It feels like high school, bodies packed into the same room like a bingo wheel, people bouncing off of one another frenetically as the night turns forward. There's a lot of happy energy in here tonight. You're contributing at least half. Not even Steve's unfortunate truths can get you down. Yeah, you miss cheese a lot, but after a full day in the pantry shift and close quarters to such gorgeous smells, you're ravenous. 

Your stomach gives a rumbling groan, and Steve's pressed so close to you that he can feel it. He wraps his arm around your shoulder to kiss the top of your head. 

His easy affection sates you for a while. You turn to watch the people already sitting with their meals, jealous but not too much, and find your happiness isn't grudging. You're happy to be here. You won't take this stroke of luck for granted, not again. 

You and Steve get your plates, refried beans, roasted greens seasoned with a vibrant red that smells spicy and decadent. There's definitely olive oil mixed in. You thrum with pleasure but wait patiently for steve to collect his own helpings, your cutlery, and finally, your drinks.

Robin sees you coming and waves you down unnecessarily. She's sitting with a dark-haired girl called Vanessa, and another girl you're unsure of. Vanessa had been part of your rescue squad, the team of people who'd fought to bring you back to The College. You'd show her some gratitude if she deigned to look at you. 

No matter how snooty you find her, Robin likes her. You try to like her too. 

"Hey," you say, putting your place setting down in front of Robin to encourage Steve to her side. 

He might downplay it but you know how much he loves her, and how much he'd missed her when they were separated. She's an extremely important part of his life. You wish he'd spend more time with her outside of scavenging and supply runs, but Steve is stuck to you like glue. It's awful and amazing. 

"Hi, killer," Robin says. 

You scrunch up your nose. "We're still using that?" 

"You were impressive!" she emphasises. 

Steve puts his drink down before his plate. She's quick to grab it, taking a generous swig as he grumbles and grouches. 

"Do you mind?" he asks. 

"I don't. Tell your girlfriend you think she was impressive!" 

"She knows exactly how I feel about her."

You smile at him. You know more than enough. He's a sweetheart through and through, and though the incident Robin's referencing hadn't been one he loved, he agrees; you'd managed to cut down six zombies all by yourself when they'd split off from a herd that managed to infiltrate community defences, and Steve had thought you were a rockstar. He'd grabbed you, covered in blood and sweat, and asked you why you couldn't just stay inside, and then he'd hugged you for too long, and said later, "My girl's a fucking weapon." Like a nerd. 

It's not complicated. Steve had been in danger. You'd wanted to save him, and you'd tried. Turns out he'd be the one to save you… for the hundredth time. But your efforts impressed him. 

Impressed everyone, according to Robin. 

"Hey, Vanessa," you say warmly. 

Vanessa gives you a strange smile in return. Despite mutual friends, Vanessa hasn't warmed to you. She'd been one of the only people who'd volunteered for your rescue squad but you're starting to think that hadn't been because she liked you, exactly. She just couldn't really say no. 

"Hey," she says. "How are you?" 

Civil you can do easily. You and Steve had been civil for weeks. 

"I'm good! Yeah, we heard there were gonna be real tortillas tonight and thought we'd get here early, but everybody had the same idea, I guess." 

She laughs politely. "We did." 

You wouldn't villainise Vanessa for disliking you. You barely like yourself. And, in your opinion, you'd gotten pretty damn lucky that Steve likes you as much as he does, though a small voice whispers that it'd been a grudging sort of love, like a flower squeezing its way through two panels of sidewalk. A weed that isn't supposed to be there. You worry often and in droves that Steve will come to his senses. He's gonna wake up one day, look at your sleeping face, and realise it isn't enough. 

When you'd first joined The College community, you'd thought for sure that was it. Steve was gonna trample your heart once and for all. He never did, of course. The opposite — he'd doubled down. Told you he loved you for the first time, and a second time, too. 

And now, miles trekked to get you back, his calf a blistering star of heat where it kisses your own beneath the table, your doubts fade away. 

Vanessa doesn't have to like you. That's not the way the world works. With Steve at your side, the rejection barely stings. 

You rub your shoe gently against his ankle. He looks up at you, a crazy amount of tortilla in his mouth, and he looks so silly you laugh hard and suddenly. 

He covers his mouth. 

"I thought you were looking somewhere else," he defends. 

"Pig," Robin says, still sipping at his cup of water. 

You rub his ankle again. A joke waits at the tip of your tongue, You're lucky I love you. It would feel good to say, but it's not your thing. You've never been outwardly romantic. 

His cheeks pink a little under the fluorescents. 

For Steve, you can be romantic. 

"You're lucky I love you," you say. 

There's too much emphasis on 'love', not enough on 'lucky', and the joke refuses to land. Your voice is softer than silk. It's all too sweet. 

"More than lucky," Steve says, grinning at you.

You try to put your glass of water on his tray. He puts its straight back on your own. 

"Robin's gonna go get me another one," he says. 

"I need one for myself," she says, unhappy. 

"You have two hands." 

"Will you get me a refill?" Vanessa asks. 

Christopher, another of Steve's fast friends, slams his tray down next to yours happily. Jonathan is right after him, and then the table's filling up with people: Jonathan's younger brother sits beside him, and the younger brother's friends follow. They're all glued together, you swear. You recognise Dustin in the throng, his chestnut brown curls crushed under a blue hat bragging the Claypole Farmer's Market, wherever that is. 

"Steve's getting drinks?" Chris asks.

"For me too, please," Jonathan adds. "And Will, if you don't mind." 

"I actually do," Steve says. 

"And us!" Dustin says, smirking. "Thank you, oh gracious one."

Steve looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. Can you believe this shit? He stands up, grumbling, and forces his hand between Robin's upper arm and chest to drag her with him. 

"Come on, Rob, I can't carry them by myself." 

"Steve, please, I'm tired," she moans, her words all lifted and croaky. 

"How'm I supposed to carry them by myself? Am I a fucking squid?" 

"I'll help," you say, happy to do it, anything for him and at any time. 

He puts his hand out to you, a universal gesture for Sit the fuck down. "Buckley will be more than capable." His smile softens. "Thank you." 

You pout at him very gently in a kissy face to watch him light up. It's cheesy and rom-com, and it works like a charm. By the time he gets Robin on her feet the tips of his ears are completely blushed, a stark red against the mousy browns and blondes of his hair. 

"Hey, Y/N," Chris says, mouth full of tortilla. Boys are all the same. 

"Hey," Jonathan echoes, and at least his hand is in front of his mouth, "how are you feeling? They let you back in the kitchen yet?" 

"They did. Hopper really didn't like that I broke the lock down rules, but at the same time, I think he understands that I'm a grown up." 

Lock down rules being, once a door is shut, it stays shut. Do not give a herd the opportunity to worm its way inside. 

But you'd made sure the coast was completely clear, and after Maybelle and Pauline, your fellow kitchen staff, had vouched for that, he'd let you off the hook, and back to work. You hadn't realised how punishing not working could be, especially when Steve had stayed on shift, his time split between scrounging outside of the community and fence duty. There's nothing to stop you from spending the day thinking about what-ifs, which is veritable torture. 

"You missed the kitchen? Did you make these?" Chris asks. 

You turn to your food and tear off some of the warm tortilla, sighing with pleasure. "No, I'm just kitchen pantry, you know? I'm sorta like an accountant. Like Dora in the armoury, or–" You nod at Vanessa with a smile. "Vanessa. You're in charge of the toiletries and stuff, right, with Cooper and Dean, and those guys?" 

She clears her throat. "It's more than 'toiletries and stuff,'" she corrects with a stilted laugh. "It's everything that isn't food. Medicine for the medic, the nursery supplies, the batteries. It's important." 

"No, of course! I didn't mean to imply anything else. I can't imagine." 

You're sure her smile this time is genuine. You and Vanessa can't seem to mesh because she's a little more serious than you are and your easygoing tone rubs her the wrong way, but you think your explanation makes it up. 

She opens her mouth to speak when Dustin leans over the table, projecting his voice down the line. "Y/N! Are you coming to cards club tonight?" 

"I don't know, babe," you say, startled at his question. "I thought so. If Steve isn't too tired then yeah, absolutely." 

"You can come without Steve," Jonathan says. 

"I know," you say, softly so you know he's grateful for the reassurance. 

"You're the only one who can beat Will at Yahtzee. You have wicked luck," says Mike, their pale, dark-haired friend, who usually rivals Dustin for hostility. You're glad he seems to like you. 

"Yahtzee isn't luck based," says Will. 

The entire group groans at the ignition of a familiar argument. 

"Robin, if you fucking nudge me again I'm gonna make sure this goes all over you," comes Steve's voice. 

You turn in your seat to watch their procession of glasses, at least six between them with not a tray in sight. Robin looks confident, Steve terrified. You jump to your seat to rescue him, taking his third glass from the nestling group so he can pick up his pace. 

"Thank you," he says, dipping his head down for a kiss. 

You're surprised but never not wanting to be kissed by him, your chin lifting on automatic to reciprocate. You chase him when he pulls away, turning one kiss into two, his lips the tiniest bit chapped against yours. It's a comforting pressure. 

You ease away. "Are we going to card club tonight?" 

"If you want to, of course we are." 

"You aren't tired?" 

"You're saying I look ugly." 

He glares at you, faux-offended.Your laugh is peeling, infectious to your own ears. 

"No!" you deny. 

"Right." He tries to be deadpan, sighing in defeat when he can't keep up the illusion. "Shit, I almost had it. S'too bad I'm a sucker for you when you smile like that." 

— 

Later that night, you and Steve are sitting around the very same tables that have been wiped down with a watery lysol, and you have an amazing three game Yahtzee streak going where nobody can beat you.

Steve's ears are ringing with the clattering sound of dice in the shaker, and he's freezing. It's a great night. He shrugged out of his jacket to lay it over your shoulders, and has to periodically readjust it to stop it from falling to the floor, your arms moving enthusiastically with each new shake. 

Steve winces as Dustin makes a fatal mistake. He’s used his two sixes to mark a 12 in the sixes column, holding out for a yacht.

"Dude, the chances of getting Yahtzee are like, one in a thousand," Steve says.

"One in thirteen hundred," you correct, already scooping up Dustin's die to take your turn. 

"One in seven thousand and seven hundred for each number," Mike says. 

"Ew," Steve says, face slumped into his palm, elbow aching where it's pushed into the table. "You fucking nerds infected my girl." 

"It's in the rule book," you say, shaking the circular dice container with your hand on top. You throw them out on the table and assess your given numbers with a frown. 

You have three threes and two ones. You keep the threes and shake the other two dice again. Yahtzee had felt complicated when Steve first learned how to play, and now it feels maddening. It's definitely luck based, in his humble opinion, and that has nothing to do with his never winning a game, he swears. 

"Does the chance of rolling a Yacht get higher if you keep the dice?" he asks, gesturing to your three threes.

"Yeah," you mumble, throwing your second shuffle out onto the table. "Yeah, but it's pretty negligible, handsome. Goes from point one to point two."

"It isn't negligible," Will denies. "It's probability, not luck, and it isn't point one, it's zero point zero eight, and it can be as high as zero point five. That's one in two hundred."

"That math isn't right," Dustin says. 

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't." 

You throw out your last shuffle and everyone leans in to see what you rolled. Your three threes are kept to one side, and your new rolls clatter to a halt in front of Steve. 

"Holy shit," he says. 

You rolled two threes. 

"Yahtzee!" you cheer, pumping your little fist adorably. Little in that it's smaller than his, and not very little in reality. "Alright, who's next?" 

"The game isn't over," Dustin says, peeved. 

You peer down his scorecard. He could win, theoretically, if he were to score multiple yachts, or if he'd been careful with his aces, ones, etc. 

"Nah, it is," Steve says. "Take it like a champ, Henderson." 

Dustin refuses to give up, playing until the end. You score a solid 319 to his less impressive 178. 

Steve robs your hand before you can agree to a rematch, forcing you to unfurl your tensed fist. He loves doing this — he presses the tips of his thumbs into the sides of one of your fingers and pushes down. It must hurt a teeny tiny bit but you never say a word, only giggle at his touch and lean toward him like you might tell him a secret. He would lament how much time he wasted being an asshole to you if he had the wherewithal. As it is, he's enchanted with you, and he isn't casual about it, pushing all of your anxiety down to your fingertips. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them each in turn. 

You pull your hand away. He thinks you're standing up to leave the table, but you're moving closer to him and straightening your back. He can picture the ache between your shoulder blades as it is between his own, the weird raw feeling, a tightness. 

"Want a neck massage?" he asks as you place your hand against his cheek. 

You brush your thumb over his stubble. "Do you want a neck massage?" you ask, unperturbed by his sudden question. His jacket threatens to slide onto the floor. 

"Are you offering?" 

"Not in cards club." You look over his shoulder. "We could play poker."

"The buy-in's too expensive." 

"What?" You frame his face with your hand. He's not sure you know you're doing it. "We can spare it, isn't that why we brought it?" 

Buy-in tonight is a bar of soap. Half the time everybody goes home with what they brought anyways, so you're obviously not worried. 

You squeeze his cheek and laugh. "You'd be cute if you were chubby." 

He grabs your hand, face warped by an irreplaceable joy, a delight to have you and be with you, a sparkling kind of lightness to know you're safe and happy here. He kisses your cheek, and says, smushed up against your skin, "You're cute." 

"Thank you." 

He hums. "So. Poker?" 

—

You have a small sink in your room with a hot and cold faucet, though no matter which one you choose, the water comes out cold. It chills your face as you scrub. When your face is reasonably wet, you lather the bar of honey soap Steve insists on keeping at the side of the sink between your fingers before dropping it imprecisely into your boyfriend's waiting palm. He laughs under his breath at the clumsy manoeuvre. 

You listen to him do the same as you had as you soap your face. You give special attention to your nose, your eyebrows, and your ears. Steve laughs again as you work a small towel behind them. 

"What's funny?" 

"Nothing." He holds his hand out for the towel, patting down his face with less ardency. He isn't less clean for it. "You have suds under your nose. Tiny moustache." 

He reaches for it with the towel, lifting your face with the back of his hand under your chin. His eyes are their forever warm brown, fixed on your top lip with a dedication that makes your baseline fondness for him surge. 

"I was pretty bad at poker, huh?" you ask. 

"No?" He dries a lingering stretch of dampness painting your cheek before dropping the towel behind the faucets. "You didn't win. Doesn't mean you were bad." 

"Vanessa said I should stick to Yahtzee," you tell him. You pause, wanting his input, and worried you're feeling offended by something that isn't inherently offensive. 

"Vanessa should stick to lawn darts," he says, chucking you under the chin. 

He starts to pull his pants down like it's no big deal. It isn't, not after so many months together, you've seen him do worse in worse states than this, but it feels forbidden anyhow to watch him climb into bed. 

"Could you pass me my sweatpants?" he asks, face turned into the pillow, his shoulders deflating.

"You're decompressing without me." 

"Am not." He pushes his hand under the pillow, shoulder blade shifting under his shirt noticeably. "Hurry and decompress with me."

You throw his sweatpants at his calves and he does a sort of vertical dance to put them on, one leg then the other, lifting his hips and dropping heavily back into the sheets when he's done. He looks at home. His relaxation catches you off guard, a pleasure to see even if it isn't strictly new. He feels safe here with you. 

"She's good at those darts," you say. 

"And shit at poker," Steve says agreeably. He lifts his head off of the pillow. "Are you coming in or are you gonna sleep standing up tonight?"  

You shimmy out of your stiff jeans and try not to feel the huge weight of his eyes on your skin. It's an impossible task, and you fail immediately. 

"Stop looking at me." 

"M'not." 

You glare at him, find him absolutely looking at you. Your glare fades when you realise how loving his gaze is, how it doesn't waver for a second. He pushes the sheets down on your side of the bed and waves his arm for you to get in. 

You pull on your pyjama pants and take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him. He wraps his arm around you quickly, or rather under you, his bicep crushed by your shoulders. Chills prickle against your skin as he cups the flesh just shy of your breast. If Steve wanted to touch you like that, he could. You want him just as much as you don't, content to cuddle with him, content to kiss like teenagers with nowhere to go tomorrow, content to do worse. He spreads his fingers over your torso, pinky nudging the underside. You'd let Steve touch wherever he liked, and he'd enjoy doing it, you think. That's a gift in itself such casual intimacy. 

"Vanessa, is she…" Steve's minty fresh breath pushes over your face like a small gale. "She's not picking on you, is she?" 

You like to be honest with Steve, and you want to be honest now — I don't know. But you hate thinking he'd have to look after you more than he does already. 

"No," you say, "we just aren't a good fit."

"Like a puzzle?" Steve asks sceptically.

"Guess my pieces are a little warped after spending so much time with you." 

He laughs like you're the funniest girl he's ever met, a big breathy sound with the punch of his voice behind it. "Guess they are," he says, hand climbing higher over your chest. "Is that a bad thing?" 

"Never," you say lightly. 

He smiles at you. You forget Vanessa's out of place comments, her weak smiles, her for-show friendliness in front of Steve. She doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and letting her dictate your thoughts in gorgeous, glowing moments like this would be a waste. 

"Love you," you whisper. 

Steve nestles into the space under your jaw. He doesn't fit but he does, of course he does, he's your everything. If that's where he wants to sleep tonight, so be it. You turn into his grasp to take the pressure off of his arm and return his gentle hugging, forcing his face closer so you can breathe in the smell of his hair. 

"Love you," Steve says. He kisses your neck chastely. "Turn the light off?" 

You reach back blindly and switch off the lamp. Everything will be okay as long as you have your boy. Right? 

—

Vanessa gets worse. She makes neutral comments with enough friendliness to make you wonder if she's truly being cruel? Am I just looking for a fight? What do I want? 

Maybe it's Vanessa's clear preference for Steve. You could be jealous. You aren't sure what jealousy feels like in relationships until she's touching him when she doesn't need to be and smiling at him like he hung the moon. She doesn't go overboard, though. She keeps her hands mostly to herself. She goes as far as to tell Steve that she thinks you're beautiful. 

You don't know how to explain your reservations to him if he can't already see it. If she'd really thought you were beautiful, surely that's something she could say face to face, rather than the unhappy little nod she gives you whenever you cross paths? Despite evidence suggesting it, you don't think Vanessa's trying to make a move on Steve. 

She's a bit of a bitch, but that's not a crime. Unfortunate? Yes. Illegal? No. Immoral? You aren't sure. 

It's her most obvious dig yet that manages to grab Steve's attention a second time since the poker incident.

"I couldn't let my eyebrows grow out like yours," she says, voice bubbly with a faked awe, "I think it's super cool of you."

"Vanessa," Robin says, eyes on her plate, an inquisitive twist to her voice that you've come to know as her sarcasm, "we're in the apocalypse." 

Steve, who'd seemed torn between speaking up and genuinely confused about the comment Vanessa'd made, chokes on his food beside you, soup dribbling down both corners of his mouth as he laughs. You wipe the corners of his mouth with your long sleeves.

"Jeez, you're like my baby," you say. Your voice is occluded by Jonathan's silvery giggles. 

Steve swallows roughly, "I resent that."

He still lifts his chin so you'll rub the bead that's escaped down his throat. 

Vanessa ends up laughing too, says, "I think I'm just crazy tired," punctuated with a high-pitched laugh. 

"Honestly, me too," you say, because maybe she is, and maybe she needs just a little smidge more benefit of the doubt. 

"I've been keeping her up," Steve says smugly. 

"He still making you read that King book? The Gunslinger?" Jonathan asks. "Will wants it whenever you're done." 

"Every night," you say. 

You're pretending it's a chore because that's what you and Steve always used to do. These days room for sincerity is much larger, but it's fun to give him a hard time when, at the end of the day, you'll crawl into bed together and tuck his face into your neck, flipping to the dog-eared page of your worn paperback to read in dulcet tones until he's a dozing weight warming your skin.

Steve looks for your hand under the table and lets your small group of friends laugh at him. Chris makes a whipping sound through the corner of his mouth. It's surprisingly accurate, and it makes you laugh worse, leaning your weight into Steve's arm for support in an action so familiar it's entirely thoughtless. 

"It's not that funny," he murmurs, breath tickling your forehead. 

"M'not laughing," you say. 

You are most definitely laughing. It's a good moment, even if Vanessa's comment sticks around underneath to nibble at your heart. 

He doesn't let your hand go for a really long time. Not when you're taking the plates up to the dirty dishes trolley, or on the walk back to Little Hawkins' with everybody in high spirits. He struggles to unlock your door one handed and he's still insisting when you try to tug away from him. 

"Let me make the bed." 

"We're getting back in 'n like, ten minutes." 

"You're tired?" you ask. 

"No. I just wanna lay down with you." 

He says it simply. Concise, with neither affection nor anything less. It's damn near factual. Steve just wants to lay down with you, out of everything in the world he could do. He could be haunting Robin's room, stealing snacks from under her bed and claiming them as bribes for not tattling on her to Hopper. He could be with Dustin in the new rec room —aptly labelled Nerd Club, when put to a vote— arguing on how to spend the valuable alloted half hour of TV time. 

He could stay with you and insist on other things. Reading. Self-defence. A walk around the community. Sex. An early night. A cold shower. 

But he's content to lay with you, to share one another's space without asking for anything else. 

Though you won't rule everything out. His kisses lately are a lot more than you're used to. 

"Let my hand go, you fiend!" you declare, overcome with a rush of affection for him. "I'm gonna make the bed and we're gonna lay down and then after that we're gonna go bother Robin." 

"You know, I'm not sure I like this you and Robin thing." 

You tug your fingers from his. It's like trying to escape a sticky fly trap. 

"You mean us being friends?" you ask.

You throw all of your throws and pillows onto the ground and grab your thick quilt, shaking it out over your mattress as Steve groans. 

"Exactly!" 

"I thought you wanted me to have friends?" 

"Of course I do, you word-twisting douche." 

"Nice, nice. Dustin or Mike?" 

"I stole that one from Will, thank you very much." 

"See! You have upwards of four friends, Steve, and I'm not allowed to have any?" 

He grabs you from behind. You drop the quilt with a sigh, going limp as a fish in his arms. He staggers backward under your dead weight but manages to keep you up, breath tickling the inside of your ear as he says, "No, you're not. Just me." He kisses your ear.

"I tried that and everyone got mad at me." 

"No, they didn't." 

They really didn't. You cover his arm with your fingers, rub your fingertips over the hill of his arm. His arm hair is soft. 

"Steve." 

"What?" he asks, his hands crawling down to cover your stomach.

"Don't squeeze me." 

"You're very squeezable." 

"I was way more squeezable before, remember." 

You'd lost some weight from the start of the apocalypse to now. Steve hates it. You're perfect, he'd said once, no matter what. But still, he laments your lost weight for what it represents — times where you and he had struggled to survive. 

"I'm working on that," he promises. 

You turn your face, shifting in the circle of his arms to meet his eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. You'd admitted that to yourself a long time ago but each time you really stare into them it takes a moment for it to settle. He is a pretty, pretty boy.

He's looking at you with a soft smile. Then, for a split second, you swear his eyes rove up to your brows. It's more than likely your imagination.  

"Let me finish making this bed," you say, turning back to the discarded pile of pillows and blankets. 

"You want your jammies?" 

You snort happily. "Yeah, sweetheart. Lay 'em out for me, please." 

—

For the last week or two, Steve has noticed a change in you. You've changed a lot since you met him (for the second time). You've gone from prickly and distant and somewhat distracted to determined, vigilant. You may not come on scrounging missions outside but you're brave, and you've survived more than he ever wanted you to have to go through. 

This change is distinctive. It's like you've reverted to how you acted when you were more friend than girlfriend; you're self conscious. 

He really hates it. 

He can't work out what he did, or what happened, but it sucks. He sucks. 

"There has be be something you want," he says. 

You're standing with him by the south fence. He and his team are about to head out for the shopping mall for as many blankets as they can carry. 

"I just want you to be careful," you say. 

You look tired. It's early in the morning, and you'd woken up earlier still. Your hair is freshly washed from a cold shower. 

You're still not comfortable showering without him, but of course the other girls aren't comfortable with him sitting in there when they're naked. You've had to schedule your showers for the dawn hour. 

"I'm gonna be careful for free," he says, pulling at a wet strand of your hair. He scratches lightly around your ear before hooking his fingers underneath it, his thumb drawing from your cheek to your lips. "Pick something you want and I'll find it. You know, Robs said we might be able to pass by a real small cherry garden on the way home. Do you–" He should know this. Why doesn't he know this? "Do you like cherries?" 

Thankfully, you laugh at his question and let your face fall into his hand. He thumbs your ear lobe gently. 

"I don't want anything at all. 'Cept for you to be extremely careful," you say. 

He pulls you in for a hug, smashes a messy kiss to your head, and tries to pull away because he's cool and the guys are watching. 

You're less quick. You rub your cheek against his chest. 

"Please, Steve," you whisper. 

He frowns. There's something you're not telling him. He wishes you would, but clearly you don't think you can. He's gonna try to do whatever it is he needs to do to get you there.

Steve takes your face into both hands. 

"I will be super careful, dummy. That's my middle name, I'm Steve Careful Harrington," he says. 

"I thought your middle name was Danger?" 

He kisses you. "No? Who told you that?" 

Your laugh is pretty enough to keep him smiling for most of the hike to the mall, until Robin says, mid sentence, "–Jeez, you're pathetic." 

Pathetic for you is something he doesn't necessarily mind being, but pathetic in general he cannot abide. He spends the rest of the hike stepping on the sides of Robin's shoes as she retells the plot of Murder on the Orient Express. Steve had seen the movie once but he's never read the original novel. Lucky him, Robin had an Agatha Christie phase when she was twelve, and she knows all the best parts. 

Hike is a strange word considering all of their walking is through steep roads. They move past rundown cars, streets and streets of abandoned houses scraped clean. There's an elementary school with a rusted playground in front. Vegetation has already started to spread through the packed wood chip flooring, and one of the swings has a broken chain. Steve hadn't realised how quickly human things fell into disrepair when attacked by the elements and left maintenance. 

The mall is a better example. Smashed glass lays around the entrance in tiny pieces like a huge back of upturned sugar, and bluegrass eats its way between paving stones. The team consists of eight people, including Steve, Robin, Christopher, and one of the College's co-leaders, a mister Jeremy Livingstone. They make their way carefully through the glass and grass in a wave of crunching footsteps to the front of the mall, where Steve wedges the flat blade of his knife between the automatic doors and works them open. When there's enough room for a second hand, Chris slides in beside him, and they work the doors open. Steve's biceps are burning by the time they're inside the mall. 

"Alright, guys," Jeremy says. "There's a bedding store toward the back of the mall. We'll go there first, and then we'll try to work through the list of requests. Blankets and sheets are our second priority. Staying safe and alive is first. Only grab what you know you can carry, you can bring back whatever you want, just… don't be greedy. Alright?"

They head out for the bedding store at the back.

"How much stuff can we carry?" Robin asks him. "I have weak arms. I'm a weakling." 

"Isn't there uh, a fancy storage place? We could drag a suitcase back." 

"For two hours?" 

"Is it two hours? Livingstone! You want me and Robin to grab some suitcases?" 

Everybody fills a suitcase with sheets and blankets in plastic wrap. The brand new stuff feels like a luxury, and Steve dibs a double mattress bedspread made of Egyptian cotton, knowing that'll make you smile. Now he's got your mattress up on those crates from behind the cafeteria, your room has really come together. Blankets and trinkets and sweet glassware. You have a small shelf of books, your clothes, your pens and pencils. 

Steve'll bring you anything you want, only you don't seem to want anything at all. 

He'll just… have to bring you some of everything. 

—

Your tears taste salty. You feel gross for licking a tear off of your top lip but nobody's around to see you do it; Steve might not be home until dark. You have time to get this upset out of your system. 

You'd been asked by Maybelle to swing by Armoury and Amenities, an unofficial name for the building where the community keeps the bulk of its collective resources, for a new propane tank. You'd gone inside, said hi to Cooper, said hi to Vanessa, explained why you needed the propane, and left. 

Or, you'd tried to leave. The propane tank was heavy, and the front door had been difficult to open one handed. You'd swung it open, quickly put your hand back on the tank to stop yourself from dropping it, and watched in frustration as the door slammed closed before you could worm your way out.

"She's the one who got, like, taken?" came Cooper's voice, pretty much as soon as the door stopped bouncing. His voice echoed from the next room.

"Sure, taken." 

You'd stilled instantly. 

"What, you think she wanted to go?" 

Vanessa sighed. "No, I don't think so. She didn't try very hard to come back, s'all I'm saying." 

"Chris says Harrington's infatuated with her. Like he's under a spell," Cooper said, chuckling.

"It's gotta be some kind of magic, she's… Well, God knows he'd have his pick if he came back to reality. You have the catalogue? I wanna note the propane before I forget." 

And that had been that. 

You don't understand why Steve loves you, sometimes. You know he does. It isn't up for questioning. Love with Steve is a lot of things — long talks in the mornings about anything and everything, his fingers tucking your shirt into your jeans. It's him pulling your hood over your eyes whenever he's behind you and laughing when you grumble. It's hiding in places you shouldn't be, hand in hand. It's miles of Indiana highway. It's heart-racing anxiety that one of you might not make it to the end. Love with Steve is a devotion: he takes care of you. He's taken care of you ever since you met. 

You haven't stopped to wonder if you deserve it in a long time. 

I don't, you think, half tears and all heartbreak. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve Steve. He's too good, the kind of good that starts life in the marrow of bones. He's sweet and soft-handed with a softer heart. He looks like a dream, and it shouldn't matter but it does. His voice is the only one you like waking up to, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear. 

Time to get up, dummy. Rise and shine, angel. Baby, come on. We slept in, loser, and you need to get dressed. Hey, are you listening to me? I miss you, wake up. 

"Y/N?" Steve asks, trying the handle. 

You flinch hard, and your heart jumps with you. A flip flop somersault feeling in your chest that plummets to your stomach. You scratch madly at your cheeks with two woollen sleeves and stand up as he opens the door. 

"Hey," Steve says, and he's safe, he's alive and well and home again. 

He stands in the doorway with a bulging rucksack on his back, windbreaker zipped tight to his neck, hair a windblown mess. His nose is red from the cold and his cheeks are ice-bitten, though the colour is coming back to his skin slowly. 

You don't feel as though you deserve him but you can't help yourself from springing into his chest, arms around his waist before he can blink. Before he can see the wet mess of your face, and your tear swollen eyes. 

"Hey," he says again, leaning a great deal of his weight over your shoulders. He sniffs your hair. "Hey  dummy. Told you I'd get home fine, huh?" 

You try not to breathe too loudly against his chest. The fabric of his coat is stiff and cold, a contrast to your heated skin. 

"Hey," he says, for a third time. This time it's all powdered sugar soft. Concern and exhaustion wrapped together. "I know, I'm sorry it took longer than usual. It's my fault, I wanted to get you something 'n' I made us all late coming home, I know you worry."

You don't answer again. You don't know how to explain it to him. You can barely understand it yourself. You cling to him and his solid mass until he gives in, his mouth pressed to your temple, his arms tightening behind your head. He shields you from the world for a handful of long, stolen minutes. There's nothing but his hugs, no sound to battle the plastic sounds of his windbreaker or the blood rushing between your ears. 

"I didn't mean to worry you," he murmurs.

You don't trust your voice to come out whole. 

He freezes under your touch. A slow hardening. His hands pause where they'd been rubbing short, featherlight lines. 

"I'm sorry," you say, enthusing your tone with some self-deprecating cheer.  "You're tired, I'm sorry. You wanna sit down." 

"I really do." He laughs. 

You peel away from him, the two of you sheepish and awkward and it's so unlike you, unlike him. You think you've made a fool of yourself as he takes off his rucksack, laying it carefully on the floor by the bed as you turn to your shared dresser and rummage through the top drawer for some clean clothes for him to take when he showers. 

You've freaked him out, and he thinks you're a weirdo, and he's gonna realise you don't deserve him and you never could. You're bad at nearly everything, and you're a total slob, and you should've tried harder to get back to him, and it's all your fault. Misery grips you and drags you down hard. It spirals, surface level comments from a shallow, jealous girl, they twist and twist until you feel wrung out and useless. And now Steve's home, and you're–

"Are you mad at me?" Steve asks. 

You wince and face him, his sweatpants pressed to your chest. "What?" 

"You're not talking to me, and you only ever used to do that when you were mad." 

You pass him his sweatpants, clear your throat. "Stevie, I'm not mad at you." 

"Then what's up?" He unzips his windbreaker, keeping his eyes on you. "I know it's something." 

You force yourself to keep a mild smile. You can't think of a lie — you don't want to lie. 

Steve frowns as your face crumples, a large palm leaping to the curve of your neck. 

"What's wrong?" he asks. 

You can't align this Steve with the one you knew in Hawkins. He's so different. Or maybe he isn't different at all, and you're lucky to see the depth of his feelings, the expanse of his goodness and his heart and his secret smile, corners pulled up and eyebrows pushed down just so. It says, You're okay, because we're gonna do this together. The world will keep spinning for us as long as we want it to.

"I had a bad day," you say. 

"Are you sure? I've seen you on some bad days, baby. This doesn't feel like that, you know? And I get that I don't always know what to say, but I promise I wanna know. Whatever it is that's been making you all grumpy." 

His smile glows, his eyebrows rising. His teasing tone toward the end of his reassurance is a lightness you cling to. 

Lately, everything has felt so heavy. 

"I'm worried I don't…" Even attempting to say it has your throat aching. You cover his hand with yours. "Steve, I– I feel bad lately. I feel like I'm bad." 

He shakes his head, strands of his brown hair unsticking to dance in front of his eyes. "You're not bad." 

"I don't deserve you." 

He stares. 

"Being with you now, having you look after me, I didn't deserve you when I met you." A tear gathers in the line of your lashes. "I don't deserve you now. I'm just me, I'm useless, and you don't have to be with me and I've," —you take in a shuddering breath, and step away from Steve's hand— "been trying to work out why you're still with me and it doesn't make sense. Why do you stay with me?" 

"That's a stupid question," he says. 

You try to swallow a lump. It stays right there in your throat. 

"I got a policy against stupid questions, remember?" 

"Steve…" 

He cuts you off, tangling his fingers with yours, and easing you close until his breath is warming your lips and you can see the honey-browns that circle his pupils. They feel bigger the longer you look at them. 

"How can you ask me that?" he says gently. "You know how much I love you… Right?" 

You nod and knuckle a tear off of your cheek. "I know," you say, and you're crying now, little bubbling sobs that wobble your shoulders. 

"Listen, if I haven't been showing it I'm sorry, and I'll prove it to you. I don't want you to question it."

"It's not you," you say, pressing your forehead to his collar, craving his comfort so much that you don't care if you don't deserve it. 

"Everybody knows that line is a lie," he says.

"I'm not lying. Everybody knows I'm the part that doesn't fit." 

"Who's everybody?" 

You try to backtrack and pull away, but Steve won't let you this time. "I'm just having a bad day," you say, "and you've had a long one–" 

"Stop it." Steve looks at you seriously. He takes your face into both hands, like he always does when he's worried. "I don't care if I crawled home with two broken arms, loser. I gotta know what's wrong. All of it. And you need to tell me." 

He thumbs at your damp cheeks. 

"Okay," you mumble, embarrassed and relieved at once. "I'll tell you."

You insist that he take his shoes off and stretch out in bed even though he's got dirty jeans on, and he doesn't wanna get your nest of throw blankets dirty, so he peels out of them and sits in his boxers at the top of the bed. You slide in next to him, and he works his arm over your shoulder, and you cry like a baby when he calls you honey under his breath. 

—

"And these are for you, too," Steve says, pulling a slightly smushed box of cherries from the bottom of his rucksack. 

You look beautiful. Afternoon sunlight drips in from a crack in the curtains, kissing up and down your smiling cheeks. Your eyes are still puffy, but your smile hasn't moved all morning. 

"You didn't get anything for yourself?" you ask, though any outrage for him you harbour is hidden by your awe. "I don't remember the last time we got fresh fruit, and you didn't even put them at the top of the bag." 

"You're such a whiner. Just try one." 

Your fingers play delicately over the punnet of cherries. The cherry garden had had a lot of supplies left to 'borrow', and after a sickly half an hour of him and Robin staining their teeth, he'd managed to grab a perfect box's worth for you. Perfect before they got squished, that is. 

"You should have the first one," you say.

"No," he says, and shoves the box at your calf. "They're for you. If you like them, I want you to eat all of them and throw up like a godzilla." 

"Not sure you're remembering that movie right," you murmur, plucking one of the cherries out of the box. 

You bite into the cherry and your eyes screw up. "Oh wow, that's sour. I don't…" You finish chewing, and Steve is rocketed to cloud nine when you go in for a second cherry, and then a third. 

Last night had been tough. Steve spent a long time talking you down from what'd been sewn into your head, and he'd pulled the truth from you in strings. Vanessa had been cruel to you on more than one occasion now, which Steve had known but not to the full extent, and her last comment had been too much. Steve, unapologetically, hates her. 

But Vanessa isn't the sole problem. 

You're having a really hard time. All of this has been so much for you. It is, in Robin's words, the fucking apocalypse, and between nearly starving to death and all the shitty things that have happened to you, he isn't surprised to find you're fragile. And he doesn't say fragile, meaning weak. He doesn't know a lot about the world but he knows the human brain and body isn't built for this. You're his girl, and you're hurting, and while he knows objectively this isn't his fault, he vows to do a better job at protecting you. 

He won't fail you again. He can't. 

He watches cherry juice escape out of the corner of your mouth. 

"You're cute," he says. "Where's the disposable? Pass it over." 

"You are not taking a photo of me right now, baby." 

"You look beautiful." 

"When will we ever get the photos developed, anyway?" you say, laughing, kissing juice off of your fingertips. 

He leaps for the camera and tussles you when you fight back. You laugh and lose, weak with giggles as he holds you away, his fingers pressing into the soft plush of your waist. 

"Jonathan does all of that stuff," Steve says knowingly. 

He gives you a little shove. You cover your face with your hands, words muffled, "Thought the camera was for me?" 

"We're sharers. We share things. Look, if you don't smile for me I'm gonna take a picture of you in your underwear." 

You throw your hands over your lap and he snaps a photo of your shy face. 

"Shithead fucking pervert," you say. 

Steve knows he's off the hook when you laugh. 

He's gonna give Vanessa the coldest shoulder anyone has ever given, and if she were a guy Steve would defend your honour in a more physical manner. He'd suggested a verbal defence last night but you'd begged him to never, ever bring any of it up to Vanessa or your friends. It startled him —you have nothing to be ashamed of— but he'd agreed. Whatever's gonna make you happy is, perhaps cornily, what he wants to do.

Right now, making you happy is gifts on the floor of your tiny shared bedroom, pantsless but, fascinatingly, with socks. He points the camera at your ankles.

You grab the new blanket he'd given you and drape it over your legs. "Pervert," you reiterate. 

He puts down the camera. 

"Not my fault they made you perfect." 

"Who's they?" 

Steve shrugs, and can't keep the smirk off of his face as he says, "They made every damn inch of you perfect, especially but not limited to your pretty eyebrows." 

Your smile settles into something more timid. You push your hill of gifts aside, careful not to spill your cherries, and walk the short distance on knees to wrap your arms around his neck. Your face fits into the curve of his neck exactly the way it always will. His hand cups your lower back. 

"Love you, Harrington," you say. 

"How much? 'Nough to let me have some of the cherries?" 

You shake your head gently, the tip of your nose bumping his Adam's apple. "No…" you say apprehensively. 

"No? You don't wanna share with me?" 

"No." Your mumbling is adorable. Steve wants to eat you alive, or at the very least kiss you until you turn to jelly in his arms. 

If he starts now, he can be done by dinner. 

"Five seconds to change your mind. After that I'm taking all of them by force. Five, four, three…" 

You shriek, and even your shrieking  is a sound he wants to hear. You drop away from him and grab the cherries, cornering yourself too fast as you stagger to your feet and hide by the desk. Shoulders against the cabinet, you grab up one of your rare books like a shield, and you glare at him over the cover. 

"You said they were for me!" you say, real panic in your voice. You know from experience Steve will tickle you until you can't breathe.

"They are for you! I love you," he says, words dripping with a false sincerity (though he loves you, undeniably). "I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart. You don't want my help?" 

"You keep your help away from me, beast." 

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he'd thought to melt you. He tickles you, and he steals a handful of your precious cherries, and when he kisses you dizzy it leaves red-pink splotches over the column of your neck, his smile temporarily printed into your skin. 

—

ty for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed, and if you did pls consider reblogging <3<3