#nail polish packaging boxes

[smithdavid6]

"The Art of Nail Couture: Custom Nail Polish Boxes for Fashion Forward"

"Enhance your makeup line with stunning custom nail polish boxes! Our high-quality packaging not only beautifies your nail polishes but also attracts customers with its eye-catching designs. Choose from a variety of shapes, sizes, and prints to showcase your brand uniquely. With affordable wholesale rates, elevate your product presentation today! #NailPolishPackaging #CustomBoxes #MakeupEssentials"

[moonchildstyles]

pleasing

y/n is harry's best friend and she'd never received a valentine's present like this one before.

wordcount: 9.5k+

—————

Just as she finished patting in her skincare for the night, (Y/N)'s phone vibrated for where she had it plugged in, in her bedroom. There was only one person that would be calling her this late at night. 

Dismissing the products she had scattered on her bathroom counter, she rushed back into her room. Upon the screen was a blurry, distorted picture of her best friend with his hair on top of his head in different spikes, thanks for a heaping of sticky hair gel and free time during a snowstorm. His name was plastered across the top, the peapod emoji right next to it. She didn't hesitate before she answered the call. 

"Harry?" she sang after pressing her phone to her ear.

"Hey, are you busy?" 

"I'm just getting ready for bed. Why?" 

"Can I FaceTime you?" 

She barely had time to give a yes before the call switched to a FaceTime in her hand, her screen lighting up a beat later. In front of her was the top half of his face, revealing only his eyes and up. His hair was pulled back with a claw clip, the angle showing off the length of his lashes and the furrow of his brow. 

(Y/N) could see herself in the small box in the corner of the screen, showing off a rather similar angle to what he was giving, though she thought hers was much less flattering somehow. 

"Hello?" 

The furrow in her best friend's brow decreased at the sound of her voice, giving away the smile that was spreading across his lips even if she couldn't see it on screen. 

"Can y'see me?" he asked, his voice sounding muffled and far away. 

"Yes, but I can barely hear you. Are you covering your speakers?" 

Her world went askew as Harry shuffled his phone in his hand, his mouth set in a comical frown for a glimpse before he righted his grip and was back with the half view of his face. "Sorry, can y'hear me now?" 

She hummed a confirmation, smiling to the camera. "What did you want to show me?" 

Harry's cheeks lifted, giving away the hint of a dimple in the corner of the frame. "I have new samples." 

A gasp fell from (Y/N) lips, excitement filling her. "For the collection?! Or different ones?" 

"For the collection." 

Her excitement only rose at the new information. "Let me see!" she bubbled, eagerly curling up on her bed, ready to spend the next hour poring over the new development with Harry.

After a small struggle and a lagging view of Harry's face, the camera suddenly turned to show a view of prototype nail polish bottles and first prints of shimmery nail stickers laid out on his black bedding. 

Even in the low light of his room, (Y/N) could see flecks of glitter in a few of the polishes, the stickers glimmering in the shapes of hearts and flowers. The colors themselves ranged from quiet pastels to vivid brights, some left creamy, others containing barely-there shimmers, and the remainders boasting chunky bright glitters. The collection was large, containing two sets of polishes: one set was full of delicate pastels ranging in the pink family, with the other championing rich, clinging colors. The first iterations of the polish packaging came with the iconic spheres on the tops of the bottles, though this collection featured watercolor petals draped over the shape, leaving the illusion of flowers encased in the bottle all in the same color as the polish inside. 

"What do you think?" 

(Y/N) was sure he could see the wide set to her eyes, the way she was practically fawning over them already. "H, I love it! This is for the Valentine's collection, right?" 

"Something like that, yeah," he answered, his smile evident in his voice, "I figured y'liked the pink ones." 

"I do," she chirped, bringing her phone closer as if she could gain a clearer look of each shade that way. "Put your phone closer, I want to see the colors and the stickers better." 

Harry did just that without hesitation, bringing his phone to his bed, though he went a step further and picked up the stickers to show off in front of the camera. 

Gasping, (Y/N)'s brows bounced over her eyes when she took in the sticker sheet. 

"Harry." 

"What?" 

"Are those bows?!" 

He only laughed.

—————

"Goodnight, (Y/N). I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

"Talk to you tomorrow, H," (Y/N) yawned, unabashedly showing off a downturned angle of the moment while Harry watched on. "Let me know if you want to get dinner later this week. Love you." 

His heart squeezed in his chest at her casual declaration. "Love you, too." 

With that, the video of her sleepy face disappeared, showing only the simple photo he had saved to his lockscreen. Harry's gaze lingered on the empty space for a heartbeat, just a split second away from calling her back despite the late hour and the fact she'd been half asleep before he'd suggested she head to bed. He forced himself to lock his phone and set it on his bedside table, keeping it out of sight and hopefully out of mind. 

Still spread out on his bed, where he had sprawled out his limbs and grew comfortable amongst the bedding, were the new Pleasing products he had been so eager to show off. Everything was still in the test package, nothing completely finalized or one hundred percent polished just yet, but he'd been too excited. He'd shared the concept with (Y/N) ages ago, right after he'd made it out of a meeting with Harry Lambert and Molly, unable to keep the secret under wraps—especially when he found his own inspiration for the collection. 

(Y/N). 

It had been Molly's idea to unveil a Valentine's themed collection after the small set of apparel that would be released around his birthday, hoping to tap into another facet of him that was so beloved to the public. She had in mind something that would commemorate the love songs he was so famous for; the kind of sweetheart, love-sick energy that he often utilized to make his most memorable lyrics and showcased on stage.

As she had gone on, sharing what kind of feeling she wanted to invoke for the season's rollout, Harry was only thinking of his own inspiration. 

It was the same thing that inspired his music, his attitude, his want to improve and be more and more than he started as. 

His best friend. 

He saw his own idea for the collection coming in flashes of her favorite colors, the shade of the dress she wore to his birthday party, the hue of her eyes, the colors that falling in love with her made him see in the world. He could see her with her fingernails proudly painted in his brand, the way she always did when Pleasing made something new just so she could support him. There were already prototypes of new apparel, manicure stickers, and campaign designs forming in his head. 

Harry had come away from that meeting with plenty of ideas to think on, and lyrics forming that he hoped he wouldn't forget before he had a chance to write them down. 

Months later, he had enough ideas for more than one micro-collection. Each one had been passed by Molly and Harry Lambert—both being excited and surprised that there was so much to be used and saved for later collections—leaving with a duo of aesthetics they planned on basing the campaign around. 

That was what he had shown (Y/N) tonight, and was now spread across his bedspread as he tried to calm down his winding heart after their late night call. He kept seeing her face when she spotted the romantic set that was directly inspired by her, the way her eyes lit up when she took in the shades of pink and the shimmery accents. That had been the kind of reaction he had been hoping for when he received the initial samples. 

Collecting each piece, he took his time pulling each bottle, rolling them in his hands with bubbles floating through the polish. He wondered if (Y/N) would catch the connections when he revealed the names to her. He wondered if she would know that he named this shimmery soft pink Woman with her in mind, including inspiration from a song he penned that now was soaked in her memory. The buttery yellow with golden reflects dubbed Home, would she know that was based on the golden dress she wore the first time she saw him on tour? The rich, creamy red he'd called Feast, he hoped she'd see the lipstick she wore the first time they met in the shade. 

He lingered over the bottles, all eight shades invoking a specific memory that went into the creation. Carefully replacing them in the drawer with the rest of his Pleasing pieces, ensuring nothing clinked together too hard with the sticker bundle staying together, he allowed himself a moment with the full collection under the bright light of his bathroom. It was near perfect, seeing it all together. All that was left to sample was the apparel that had been drafted up a few weeks prior with Harry Lambert's guidance, and the extra accessories they were debating on adding in the collection.

He had a feeling (Y/N) would fight to take the samples from him. The idea had a small smile spreading on his lips by the time he was flicking his bathroom light off and padding back to his room. 

By the time Harry bundled himself in his bedding, his phone settled away in his bedside table, he shuttered his eyes though he could still see the ghost of (Y/N)'s excited face on the inside of his eyelids. Just as much as he hoped she would notice the names of the polishes, catch the fact that the stickers were an ode to her, the apparel made with her form in mind, scents formulated to sweep over her skin, he feared she wouldn't notice in the same way she'd never noticed him in the way he wanted. 

Did she remember the yellow dress she wore to the first live show she could make it to? (Y/N) barely ever wore lipstick these days, did she even have that tube of red anymore? Did she ever listen to Woman and hear the words he was too scared to say to her every time she introduced him to a new boyfriend?

The idea needled at the center of his chest just as it always had when he was reminded that he was years into an infatuation that had no sign of ending either from sweet reciprocation or his heart moving on.

Nonetheless, he thought, grasping at positivity as always, he was going to revel in the reactions she gave him as if it were for himself. Those delicate compliments and the joyous excitement, he would hold tight as if they were for who he was and not something that he made. 

And, probably try to convince her to be a part of the product shoot. 

—————

      i'm here !! 🍣🍣

(Y/N) pocketed her phone as she approached the small gate surrounding Harry's home, the concrete divider and plethora of greenery giving privacy to the space. The bag of takeaway sushi hung at her side, the hood of her coat lifted over her head in case there was anyone around hoping to spot a glimpse of Harry's personal life and spin whatever tale. 

She didn't have to check if her text went through, having to wait only a moment before she heard him make his way from his front door and going through the protective greenery. "(Y/N)," he sang through the trees, the syllables of her name sifting through the plants. 

"Harry," she reciprocated, a smile spreading across her lips at the familiar greeting. 

Swinging open the gate, Harry welcomed her in with his hair held back in a familiar flower clip and dimples thumbed into his cheeks. She quickly stepped over the threshold, heading towards his porch while he locked the gate behind her. Only a beat after the click of the lock sounded, he fell into step beside her, hooking an arm around her shoulders. 

"Hi," he smiled, dimples clear on his cheeks as he gazed down at her. 

"Hi," she answered, her own features curling and softening. Feeling his eyes on her face, she took on the responsibility of guiding them towards the front door without stumbling through his garden. "Sorry I'm late. The sushi place was packed for some reason today." 

"Yeah?" he sounded, voice decidedly softer than just a beat before, "'M sorry. I would have gone if I'd known it would be that busy." 

"It's alright," she told him, leading them through his front door to which he dropped his arm from around her to instead shut and lock the door, "I just figured it wouldn't be so bad since they just opened, but everyone else probably had the same idea."

Placing the takeaway bag on the coffee table, (Y/N) shed her jacket and the knitted beanie covering her head. She had another question on her lips as she turned to face Harry once more, though that line died once she took in his outfit for the day. 

"What are you wearing?" 

A small smile spread over his lips at her words though he didn't offer his own response. 

His legs were covered in athletic joggers, the same heather green ones he always seems to be wearing lately, but that wasn't what caught her attention. Draped over his torso was a delicately pink crewneck, thick and warm, with Pleasing scripted across the center of the chest in a mauve shimmer. 

"That's new, isn't it?" she prodded, stepping towards him with her eyes on the shimmering puff print on the crewneck. He had mentioned something about adding apparel to the polish collection she'd been shown last week, but he didn't offer any specific details. 

"Maybe," he teased, "Do you like it?" 

Reaching his arms out, he let her see the full piece, including the glittery stitching that ran through the garment and drew her eyes along his form. She stepped towards him, running a finger along the seam at the cuff of the sleeve. 

"I love it," she smiled, "I didn't know you were making these." 

"I know—I wanted it to be a surprise," he told her, his arm flexing under her fingertip before dropping back to his side with his hands sliding into his pockets, "I know you've been wanting a pink one since the first set came out, so I thought it was finally time." 

"For Valentine's Day?" she bubbled, thinking back to the samples he'd shown off to her the week before. 

Something flashed over his eyes as they dropped from hers, taking in the rest of her features. "Something like that, yeah." 

"Do you have any more?" Before he even answered, she couldn't help herself but to start edging towards the stairs bordering the wall behind her. 

A plume of laughter fell from Harry's lips, catching her with his palm landing on her arms before she could scurry away. "No," he drawled as he pulled her back towards him, "But, you can have this one if y'want." 

"Are you sure?" she asked, eyes wide as she fixed her gaze on him, hands on his chest over the puff print of the lettering. "I don't want to take it if this is the only one you're testing right now." 

Harry shrugged her off, his hands on her arms sliding down in a lingering drag before they finally fell back to his sides. "'S alright. No one knows yet, anyway." 

Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his to peruse over the glimmering neckline of the crewneck. "I don't want you to get it in trouble, though, if you give it away." 

He scrunched his features, shaking his head as if what she said was completely incredulous. "(Y/N), I made it for you." 

His words were cemented as he began pulling the piece off completely, leaving him in only the vintage shirt he'd had on underneath, the print faded and unfamiliar. He shoved the garment in her arms, a waft of his scent enveloping her. 

(Y/N) hesitated for long enough that Harry had to have noticed, prompting him to set a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Really, lovie. 'S alright. I don't want y'to have to wait to get your own." 

Relenting, she fell into his chest, Harry wrapping his arms around her with a laugh rumbling his chest under her cheek. "Thanks, H. I promise I won't wear it out or anything until you announce it, though." 

She could feel him smile when he buried his nose into her hair, his arms pulsing around her a snug embrace. 

For a brief moment, (Y/N) let her eyes close as she sunk into his arms. The fragrance of his washing detergent and the lingering scent of his cologne that had sunk into every fiber of his home washed over her. There were times she could see her friendship with Harry moving into territory she'd been too fearful to even explore in her imagination, but feeling his embrace and the words I made it for you ringing in her ears, she could be coaxed to imagine a lot of things with him.

Before she could run too far away in her head, she drew away with a bright smile, hoping he didn't catch the warmth under her skin. 

"We need to eat before our soup gets cold," she told him, stepping towards the couch with her new crewneck in her arms. 

Harry followed after her, becoming a warm shadow as he took his seat next to her. It wasn't until all of the containers were distributed out from the bag, and (Y/N)'s new sweatshirt was folded carefully at her side that he peeked at her from where he was stirring his miso soup. 

"I do have one condition with the crewneck," he murmured, taking a spoonful of tofu and seaweed. (Y/N), her own mouth full with a wonton, raised her brow in response. Taking his time to swallow, his words hanging in the air for a beat, Harry finally followed up with, "We might need an extra model for the Valentine's campaign."

"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, a furrow pinching at her brows. "Do you need me to ask someone? I think I still have a couple of numbers of some of the people from your music videos if you want me to reach out." 

A sheepish smile touched at the corners of Harry's lips. "No, I mean... Would you want to be a model? The shoots in a few weeks, so." 

Pushing her chopsticks against the wontons floating in her soup, (Y/N) wasn't sure how to respond. "H, you know I'm not a model or anything—like, you remember that, right?" 

He laughed at her remark. "Yes, I remember. This one's going to be really special, though, and a lot of fun. I want you to be in it—if you're comfortable." 

She mulled over his words, rolling the short I want you around her head. "And this is a condition of taking the crewneck home with me today?" 

A single dimple touched his cheek. "Something like that," he tilted his head, stirring his miso soup into a slow vortex, "I am doing you a favor, aren't I?" 

She nudged his shoulder with her own, rolling her eyes. "You said it was made for me, how is it a favor to give it to me?" she teased, only shaking her head when he laughed at her. 

A beat passed before Harry returned his eyes to her, his features softened and warm. "Really, it would mean a lot to me if y'were a part of this shoot. At least think about it?" 

"I can do that," she compromised, seeing her best friend in front of her even if his words touched a separate part of her shoved into a box in the back of her mind, "I'll think about it, and let you know." 

It was the way that his smile bloomed across his features, something bright unfurling in his eyes that (Y/N) was sure she already had her decision pocketed away. 

—————

As Molly stood in front of the slew of models and talent sitting in wait for the day, Harry stood behind her as if to read the agenda in her hands even if all he really did was sweep his eyes towards (Y/N) standing at the end of the line. 

"First up is the pink side of the campaign," Molly read off, presenting the information with a smile while others ran around behind her setting up for the double shoot that would be happening, "Nail techs will be coming around to make sure everyone has something on their nails—remember which group you're in so we get the correct colors on your nails. Hair and makeup will follow afterwards..." 

There was more Molly was saying, the outline of the day being extra exhausting given there were two different aesthetics being achieved today, but Harry was much more focused on the extra model at the shoot. 

Truly, he hadn't thought (Y/N) would accept. He knew it was much for her to be in front of a camera like this, seeing as his own need for privacy definitely had rubbed off on her, so he hadn't been surprised that she had lagged on her response for a week. It was when she had called asking about details of the shoot, wanting to know about the times and location, and just how long they would be needed on set, all followed up with a chirped I'll be there! that had surprised him. It wasn't until that call that he planned on being on set all day, having previously only meant to pop by for a few hours before leaving everyone to get the real work done without him being in the way. That was how he ended up here right at eight a.m., hair back in a pink flower clip (another accessory for the collection), and his eyes searching for (Y/N). 

"Okay, everyone go pick a station and someone from hair and makeup will come help as soon as they can!" Molly dismissed everyone with a smile before turning on her heel and looking around for Harry Lambert. 

Harry stood back with the sets coming together behind him as he watched the line of models scatter towards the lit up tables. There was only one that strayed behind, hands in a bundle at her waist with her wide eyes immediately fixing to him. He didn't hesitate before he stepped towards (Y/N), reaching out to her until his arm was slung over her shoulders. 

"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, voice low compared to the bustle happening around the set. 

"Yeah," she sighed, scanning her gaze along for the last open station, "It's just weird being on set like this when I'm not just here to watch. I don't want to mess anything up." 

He shrugged his shoulders, his arm scrunching around her as he tipped his head. "You're probably going to, but 'm sure Molly or someone will be able to fix it." 

It wasn't until she looked up at him with her mouth a gape and an accusatory light in her eyes that he broke with his laughter. His shrug became a comforting hug as he held her to his side. "'M kidding, lovie. You're going to be jus' fine—we're gonna take care of you, don't worry." 

Harry pulled out the chair to the vanity for her, catching her reflection in the mirror. There was a part of him that, while he watched her, wanted to grab a camera and get his own shots for the campaign. There was nothing more romantic—in the Valentine's spirit—than the quiet moments with a partner; the moments that made it clear they were a team.

He was tugged out of his head when he heard her speak up. "Are you going to be hanging around for the shoot today then? Or are you going home soon?" 

"I'll be here all day," he decided then, setting his hands on the back of her chair as they met eyes in the mirror.

Her gaze brightened, seemingly reflecting back the lights ringing the mirror. "Are you going to be in any of the pictures?" 

It was the bubbling of her voice, the way she beamed at him that had his own lips curling into a small smile. "Maybe." 

It wouldn't be hard to convince his team to let him sneak in a couple of shots. His nails were already done up anyway. 

Before (Y/N) could say much more, one of the three nail techs flittered to her station. Familiar bottles of polish were tucked away in her apron, the pink bottles being placed out on the vanity as she offered (Y/N) a bright smile. 

"Hi," she greeted, eyes landing on Harry for a split second before bouncing away just as quickly. "I'm Mari, I'll be doing your nails this morning. How are you?" 

"I'm (Y/N). I'm doing good, thank you," she chirped, her voice decidedly higher and sweeter than when she had been speaking with Harry a moment before. He nudged her shoulder just a bit, a silent tease. "How are you?" 

"I'm doing well, thank you for asking," Mari said, carefully looking at Harry through the fan of her lashes, "And you, Mr. Styles?" 

"I'm good, thank you," he offered, his voice low with a pleasant smile given to Mari. He could spot the small ticks that gave away just how aware she was of him, he didn't want to make her any more nervous. "I appreciate your help today, Mari. I've seen some of your work, and 'm really excited to see what you can do for us." 

Mari's tan cheeks heated with a small blush bubbling underneath, faint under her skin. "Of course. Thank you for the opportunity—really." 

Harry's smile only spread wider when he felt (Y/N) nudge against his hand, her own quiet tease over his dazzling interaction. 

Before she could fluster much more, with all of her supplies spread out on the vanity table, Mari concentrated on (Y/N) once more. "Do you remember which group you were in today, (Y/N)?" 

"I'm actually in both groups today, but I think I'm a part of the pink shoot first," (Y/N) smiled, tilting her chin upwards to peek at Harry upside down, "Right?" 

"Right," Harry affirmed. It was a lot he was putting on her plate, being in both sides of the campaign, he knew that. But, just as he had told her when he laid out the details, it meant a lot to him to see her in both aesthetics. She was the face of the collection in his mind, he couldn't imagine her not pictured in every iteration.

"Long day," Mari muttered, her features school back into a pleasant expression. She plucked her fingers through the bottles, skating over the set of pink varnishes first. "Do you have a preference for what color we use today?" 

At this, (Y/N) looked to Harry once more. "Do you? I'm okay with any of them, but is there something you want me to have for the pictures, or anything?" 

Instinctively, Harry looked to the creamy baby pink shade embedded with opal flecks. He nodded towards the bottle, "That one if that's alright."

"This one?" Mari clarified, picking up the bottle he had in mind.

"Yes, please," Harry smiled, looking towards (Y/N) with his raised brows to which she gave him a small giddy nod. "And some of the stickers if y'have them." 

A quiet gasp left (Y/N)'s lips. He knew she would like that detail. 

"Sounds perfect," Mari bleated, asking for one of (Y/N)'s hands before she started prepping for the manicure. 

With her on hand free, (Y/N) reached for the opal polish to be painted over her fingers. "Do you mind if I look?" 

"Go for it," Mari smiled, concentrating on the alcohol wipe she was swiping over (Y/N)'s nail beds. 

Rolling the bottle around her hand, (Y/N) smiled up at Harry. "Is this the final bottle?" 

"Mhm," he hummed, a sense of pride touching at the center of his chest, "We changed a couple of things from when I last showed you, but this is it." 

He watched her admire the polish, tipping the bottle to and fro as she watched the color inside bubble and shift. The glitters shown in the light, going undetected until catching a ray and sparkling a vivid pink. When he saw her tilt the bottle to catch the name stickered to the bottom, he couldn't help the pulse his hands gave to the back of her chair. 

Would she notice? Was the connecting line thick enough to spot? 

Labeled on the bottom of the bottle was the word lovie printed in white ink on the black sticker. 

"Hey," (Y/N) called, her voice lilting, "That's me!" 

She pulled the bottle towards him, showing off the proof with a warming smile on her lips. 

His lungs squeezed even as he tried to play it off, squinting at the bottle as if reading it for the first time. "It is, isn't it?" 

"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked, alternating her hands once Mari gave a small tap to her wrist. 

"Maybe," he murmured. Did he sound as breathless as he felt?

(Y/N)'s mouth pulled into a bubbly smile—just as bright and attention grabbing as the first time he met her. "Harry," she crooned his name, the syllables cradled on her tongue, "I didn't know you did that. It's so sweet." 

There was a moment where he wondered if this was the moment. Was this the moment to share that of course he would name one of these shades after her, as this whole thing was an ode to his feelings for her. Was this warehouse being used as their set the perfect place to tell her what every single shade meant to him and how it was tied to her? It wouldn't be so bad, he thought. 

Instead, Harry only bashfully shrugged, tipping his shy smile towards his feet. "'M happy y'like it." 

Settling her hands for Mari to begin painting, (Y/N) still kept her attention tipped towards Harry. "Is that why you wanted me to be in the shoot?" she asked, leaning towards where he was still stationed behind her chair, "So, there's, like, platonic love in there too for Valentine's?" 

Harry's lungs squeezed for a different reason this time. Platonic love between friends. That's why he named a polish after her in his most romantic collection to date. 

"Something like that," he settled on, hoping she didn't catch the way his smile fell just a hair. 

Though (Y/N) parted her lips to offer a response, she was cut off before she could take a breath. Harry Lambert was fluttering by the stations, keeping an eye on every model readying for the campaign before he met Harry. 

"Sue, would you help me bring in all the clothing, please?" he asked, a tenor of stress entering his voice. 

Breaking away from (Y/N)'s chair, Harry didn't hesitate before nodding his head. "Course. Where do y'need me?" 

Vaguely, Harry Lambert pointed towards the set pieces before he shook his head. "Just follow me." 

Absently, Harry tossed over his shoulder to (Y/N), "I'll be right back, lovie." 

When he heard a small okay peep from her, he looked towards her only to see her already blinking at him with admiration in her eyes. No wonder he felt so warm.

—————

Harry was sure his dimples were deep in his cheeks as he leaned over Molly's shoulder, looking at the photos popping up on the computer screen as every shot was uploaded. Unsurprisingly, his favorites were of (Y/N).

Her makeup and hair was done minimally in true Pleasing style, leaving everything sheer and pastel. Her nails were glimmering in the light, dreamy filters to be added to the shots that would accentuate the glitter in the varnish. She looked entirely too cozy in the large pink crewneck clad on her torso and the comfy lounge shorts hugging her hips. Though there was still a stiffness as she transitioned between poses, as if waiting for someone to yell at her to fix her stance, he could see her growing more and more comfortable among the set. She made friends with a few of the other models, making it much easier for her to fit into those group shots and allow her laughter to filter through the room. 

It made him feel an undeniable hint of pride seeing her grow so comfortable in front of the camera. He knew she never much preferred being in front of the camera like this, so every small breath of progress she made had his heart glowing for her. 

Watching every shot come in over Molly's shoulder, Harry was almost disappointed when the photographer called for a cut; the lighting needed to be adjusted apparently with extra props being brought in before the focus would shift to the colorful end of the campaign. He stepped back, giving however many assistants were helping out all the space they needed to take care of every minute change. 

As the models scattered, (Y/N) made a beeline back towards Harry, ushering out of the way as quickly as possible. With everyone distracted, he didn't hesitate before he draped his arms around her shoulders in a loose hug. 

"How are y'feeling?" he asked, offering her a quiet smile, "Y'look like you're having fun." 

(Y/N) leant into him, her cheek smushed against the blocked muscle of his chest. "I am, but I'm getting tired. I don't know how you do this all the time." 

A breath of laughter left his lips at her mumbling. "'S surprisingly exhausting, isn't it? Being the center of attention really takes a lot out of a person." 

"No wonder you can fall asleep anywhere," she mused, playing along, "Your life is so hard." 

"I've been trying to tell you," he smiled, pulsing his arms around her when he realized just how hard she was leaning into him. 

She'd been on her feet from the second she had her makeup and hair finished and there were still hours left of her day, even after lunch was served. As much as he was teasing, he was sure she truly was rather exhausted with this being her first time being more than a spectator on set. 

A companionable silence settled between them, Harry not needing to peek to know that she'd had shuttered her eyes while he hugged her. From the corner of his eye, there was a familiar production assistant flittering around with the polaroid camera Harry Lambert had passed off earlier in the day, tasked with documenting the day for behind-the-scenes content. Like a sixth sense, Harry swore he could feel the lens focusing on him and (Y/N), but he didn't flinch back or turn to spot the assistant. 

Instead, he stayed right where he was with (Y/N) in his arms even when the camera clicked and light flashed over the space. 

—————

"I'll be done in, like, ten minutes, 'kay?" Harry murmured, dropping his bag by the station (Y/N) had claimed for the day, "Lambert said there were only a couple of totes left, so I won't take long." 

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, matching his eyes in the mirror as she pulled out makeup wipes, "I should be done by then." 

Harry lingered behind her for a moment, eyes bright in the reflection, before he stepped away. (Y/N) felt her skin warm in his wake, heart fumbling in its beats before she settled in her chair. She made a point to fix her attention to the makeup wipe she was skimming over her skin, keeping her eyes forward instead of following after him. 

The other models had cleared out as soon as the photographer had called for a wrap, leaving production behind to clean up and clear out for the night. Harry had, of course, volunteered to help clean as much as he could for the night causing (Y/N) to stay back with him. She had helped break down stations and pack props before finally retiring to the final standing station so she could get un-ready herself. 

From her peripheral, (Y/N) spotted Molly bustling around, trusty clipboard in hand. Catching her eye in the mirror, Molly finally paused her constant rushing with her muscles visibly relaxing. 

"I've barely been able to talk to you today," Molly said in greeting as she approached (Y/N)'s station, gifting a small hug with an arm around her shoulders. "Thank you for helping out today." 

"Of course," (Y/N) smiled, the bulbs around the mirror catching the shimmering stickers on her nails that only made her smile stretch wider. "Thank you for letting me be a part of the shoot. I had a lot of fun." 

Molly shifted her weight and leant against (Y/N)’s chair, her features softened. "I could tell. Harry was so worried for you this morning," she shared, "He felt bad, like he had made you say yes when you didn't really want to do this." 

Wiping the light mascara off her eyes, (Y/N) shrugged, "You know it's not really my thing, but he said this one was really important to him. I'm really happy I did it, though—the collection is gorgeous, you guys really did so well with this one." 

 "All of the ideas were H's, so I can't really take any credit for it. Lambert and I just put it all in production," Molly shared, fondness on her features. "We only told him we wanted to do a Valentine's inspired collection, and he already had all of these ideas. We weren't planning to do a dual release, but he'd had so many that he wanted to add that it turned into what we have now." 

"He didn't tell me that," (Y/N) chirped, feeling herself begin to soften. She had known Harry had a large hand in the creative side of these collections, but she hadn't known that he had brought all of the ideas to the table for this one. "I don't know where he gets all of his inspiration between writing and everything with this. He never stops." 

(Y/N)'s teasing comment prompted Molly to laugh along with her, both of them familiar with how hard Harry tended to push himself both creatively and physically. 

"Like, you don't know," Molly said, amusement carrying over her words. 

A pinch touched at (Y/N)'s brows, her hand slowing over her skin to leave her mascara as only smudges under her eyes. "What do you mean?" 

It was Molly's turn to cant her head, her lashes fluttering as she blinked at (Y/N)'s reflection. "I thought that was why you decided to finally be a part of the shoot. That Harry told you." 

For a heartbeat, (Y/N) swore she was in some kind of movie scene. The theatrics of the moment seemed to be blown out of proportion, if only in her eyes. 

"Told me about what?" 

At this, Molly seemingly realized that she may have hinted at something (Y/N) hadn't known anything about. She pursed her lips as if she wanted to keep in her next words, but both of them knew she didn't have much of a choice now that she had started on this avenue. 

"That it's you—the inspiration for the collection. He wasn't very good at hiding it before he finally just told Lambert. All of the shades have something to do with you." 

(Y/N) was hyper aware of Molly's words, even if the sound of her heart pumping began to flood through her ears. 

Strings began to connect throughout the last month since he initially showed her the samples of the polishes. The crew neck he claimed he made with her in mind. The dual collection having four different shades of her favorite color—a fact about her he knew without a doubt. The varnish named after the pet name he had dubbed her as throughout the years, something he had immediately tied to her when she had pointed it out just that morning. 

Maybe it was the new information getting to her head, but more and more pieced itself together. That lingering look he gave her in the mirror just moments earlier felt like more evidence, including the way he held her between shots today, tiny moments that didn't feel out of the ordinary for him. Now those memories could be tinted in rose as moments that were only ordinary because it was between the two of them. 

"Oh," (Y/N) simply sounded, dropping her eyes from Molly's with a flutter of her lashes.

A beat passed before Molly piped up with an apology in her tone. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I thought you knew, or I wouldn't have said anything." 

"No, no, don't be sorry!" (Y/N) rushed, turning in her seat to match her eyes truly, "It's okay, I'm just surprised." 

Casting her eyes around the dwindling room, Molly lowered her voice by the time she matched (Y/N)'s gaze once more. "Good surprise?" 

Before (Y/N) could give an answer—one she wasn't even sure of—Harry joined their group, He reached towards his bag on the vanity, lookin at the two women with a question in his eyes. "Did you need a couple more minutes?" he asked, not-so-discreetly looking at the shadows left under (Y/N)'s eyes. 

She could feel her stilted smile on her lips, but (Y/N) hoped Harry wouldn't notice. "Why? Did I miss something?" 

Molly made a quiet getaway with a quick pat to Harry's shoulder, taking his attention for a moment as he gave a small way and murmured his goodbye. For a split second, Molly shot (Y/N) a sheepish glance before she was hustling through the space once more. 

When Harry returned to (Y/N), his gaze was scrutinizing this time, a pinch to his brows as he ducked his head to be level with her. 

"I don't think so, no," he said, answering her teasing remark. Reaching out, he gently dragged his fingertips over the soft skin of her under eye, picking up some of the smudgy mess on the pads of his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch, a stillness touching her muscles she hoped he wouldn't catch. He made a show of inspecting his hands with a comically deep frown on his lips. "Thought I saw something, but, no, y'got it all. Ready to go?" 

Looking at her through the fan of his lashes, (Y/N) saw the teasing gleam to his eyes, though she swore there was something more floating in his irises. 

Had that always been there?

"Um," she mumbled, dropping back into the moment, "Yeah, I'm ready." 

The amusement in Harry's eyes faded at her stilted answer. Creases appeared between his eyes as he gazed at her, his bag loose in his hand. "Y'alright?" 

"Yeah," she attempted to chirp, hopping out of her chair, "I think the day is just catching up to me and all. Just got really tired." 

"Well, then," he started, standing to the full of his height before slinging an arm over her shoulder, "let's get y'home, lovie." 

When he gave a small pulse to the cuff of her shoulder, his fingers denting the soft of her arm, (Y/N) tried to remember if it always felt that charged when he touched her. 

—————

"Hey, you." 

Harry held back a sigh when (Y/N) reached his open arms, burying his nose into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his middle. He settled instead for shuttering his eyes and sinking into her hold. It'd been a long week since he'd seen her last after taking her home after the Pleasing shoot; both he and (Y/N) seemed to be too busy to send more than a few texts to one another throughout the day. It wasn't a secret to him that (Y/N) was the brightest party of his day, but he hadn't realized just how good he had it until she had pulled back those days. 

"How are you?" (Y/N) murmured, her voice muffled from the way her cheek was squished against his chest, "I feel like I've barely talked to you since last week." 

"Me too," he said, drawing away just enough to see her face with his arms a warm loop around her, "I've been alright, though. You?" 

Her eyes skated down his features long enough Harry swore he could feel her gaze like a touch from her hand. His skin warmed in her wake, a pinkened blush surely rising to the surface of his cheeks. 

"I've been good," she finally answered, the heartbeat between his question and her response seeming hours long instead of mere seconds. "Just tired still. I feel like I haven't recovered from last weekend, yet." 

"'M not surprised, y'worked hard." Harry dropped himself back into the moment, clearing his throat. "Molly emailed me some preliminary shots the other day." 

Perking up in his arms, her eyes brightening. "She did? How did they look?" 

A lopsided smile poked at the corner of his mouth. "I can show you, if y'want. Jus' need to grab m'laptop from m'room." 

All it took was a giddy nod from her and a quiet yes, please! that had him untangling from her arms and heading towards his room.

As much as he wanted to stay right where he was in her arms, he needed a breath of air. Perhaps distance, no matter how small it was, really did make the heart grow fonder and Harry wasn't immune to the effects. 

His paces were measured as he scaled his stairs to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop from where it was charging on the side of his bed. The email in question wasn't hard to find, especially since one of his favorite shots—the polaroid one production assistant had nabbed of he and (Y/N) snuggling during a break—was now his home screen on his phone. (And, one of (Y/N)'s official shots was now her contact photo). 

Heading downstairs, he found her already making herself at home on his couch. With a blanket his mom had knitted for him thrown over her legs, she was scrolling through her phone despite the streaming service pulled up on his television. 

"Comfy already, lovie?" he laughed, crossing from the landing to take his own spot next to her. 

"A little," she answered, decidedly reserved in her teasing. That had been much of how it was this past week, (Y/N) too distracted, or tired, or whatever it was to play with him too much. He hoped it truly was nothing more than being a little tired. 

Leaning in close, he settled his laptop on his thighs as he pulled up the attachments.  Beginning to card through the photos, he offered a short explanation, "They're not edited completely yet, but we've got some of the effects added. We're still picking which shots are going to be used for the site and which will be used for the socials, but it all turned out really well." 

Even as every picture lit up his screen, the pad of his finger on the touchpad, Harry favored watching (Y/N)'s reactions as opposed to looking at the shots themselves. He wanted to know if she loved it as much as he did. 

The bright colors cast washes of pale color over her skin, shining like the moon at times with others giving a petal softness to the high points of her face. He could tell when a picture of her appeared with the way she rolled her lips between her teeth, a quiet bashfulness softening the edges of her features. 

"Wait, wait, go back," (Y/N) asked, leaning forward as if to get a closer look at a missed photo. 

Peeling his gaze away from her profile, Harry looked to his laptop to see the photo that had caught her attention was the same one that he favored. An artistically framed shot of their polaroid filled his screen, the nature of the camera already giving fuzzied edges to their forms, an extra set of dreamy editing adding that much more to the sight. 

"Y'like this one?" he murmured, a delicate edge to his voice. 

"When did they take this one?" she asked, her voice a quiet whisper for only him to hear. 

"During that break, remember? Lambert and Molly had an assistant going around to get production shots, and they caught us," he smiled, reliving that moment with her in his arms and the warmth of her form against his, "We're thinking about using this in one of the social shots." 

(Y/N) was silent then, her eyes flitting over every pixel that made up the photo. He hadn't expected her to go so quiet. 

"But, we don't have to use it if y'don't want to," Harry carefully offered, already rearranging the composition of the offered rollout to accommodate her if she was so uncomfortable. "I can talk to Mo—" 

"No, no, that's not—" she started, stumbling some through her words when she managed to meet his eyes finally, "I just... Can I ask you something?" 

The connotations of the phrase had Harry's heart fumbling and palms sweating right away. "'Course. What is it?" 

Hesitating as she rolled her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) let his words hang between them for a few heartbeats too long. 

"Molly told me something after the shoot," she started, her words careful and calculated, "I wanted to know if it was true." 

He couldn't imagine what Molly would have shared that would have had (Y/N) so cryptic and unsure. "Okay," he offered, drawling over the word. 

"She said..." (Y/N) paused, dropping her eyes from his until they landed on the hollow of his throat—a safe place to look when she was too afraid of his reaction. His palms became that much more clammy. "She said something about how this collection was about... me. That you told Harry that you had all these ideas because they were from me." 

In the same moment that time attempted to stop, everything in Harry's body went into overdrive. Was it safe to feel his heartbeat in the base of his throat? Was it normal to want to suck in more air than his lungs needed? 

What was he supposed to say to that?

More importantly: what answer did (Y/N) want to hear? 

Would she be excited to hear that yes, everything Molly had told her was true and he just didn't know how to tell her himself. It was easier to manifest it all into cute little nail polishes and matching stickers. Or did she want him to say no, Molly's imagination had run a bit too wild, or she had heard him wrong, or, or, or—

"Yes," he suddenly blurted out, his mouth ahead of his brain. 

(Y/N) blinked at him. Her eyes floated back to his, bewildered at his blunt answer. "Yes, it's true?" 

The dam that was his filter had too big of a crack to be properly repaired, it appeared. There was no holding back the river. 

"Yes," he affirmed, a weight in his chest pushing the words out before he could offer more thought, "The—um—the yellow one with the gold glitter, it matches the dress y'wore the first time y'came to one of m'shows. And, pink is your favorite color, so I wanted to make as many different ones as we could so you'd have as many as y'wanted to wear. I don't even know if y'have this lipstick anymore, but the red was to match the one y'were wearing when we met. A-All of them are for—about you." 

By the time he managed to zip his lips, there was still plenty to be said but he figured the rambling was more than enough to both humiliate himself and put (Y/N) on the spot. 

The longer she didn't say anything in response, the more Harry sweat. His thoughts were nothing but a swirl heading down a drain, too heavy and incoherent to make sense of.

"(Y/N), I—I didn't m—" 

As quick as he opened his mouth like a guppy, fumbling over his words, he was silenced with (Y/N) pressing her kiss to his lips. 

It was startling at first, taking every ribbon holding him together unraveled, turning him into a scramble. It was only when he felt a careful smile spread over her mouth and she drew away a hair that Harry came alive. 

This was what he'd dreamt of, why was he wasting it? 

Molding his lips to hers, Harry tasted the soft curve of her cupid's bow when he tucked his bottom lip between her two. Faint traces of a fruity chapstick remained on her mouth, though the only taste he got was her. There was no other way to describe the fragrance other than it being (Y/N). Every soft parting and letting of their mouths gave him a rush of that essence, pulling him in deeper and deeper each time. 

The laptop on his thighs was a forgotten object as he turned his body to face her, the device sliding somewhere among the cushions of his couch. His hand landed carefully on the soft of her cheek, feeling a warmth blooming in her skin under his palm. He could feel every pacing of her muscles, feeling how her body moved for no other purpose than to kiss him. It brought a pinch to his brow, an unfurling happening in his chest he couldn't even begin to unpack right then.

While it wasn't an urgent, explicit kiss, Harry didn't want to pull away first. Hours could have been spent on his couch just like this, if not for the fact (Y/N) decided she needed air more than his kiss. 

Following her cue, he gave her some space when she drew away. Her skin was warm as she blinked her eyes open to match his own. He watched as a smile spread over her lips the longer she looked at him.

"You like me?" 

A peal of laughter fell from Harry's lips, bursting through his chest and filling his bones. 

"Maybe. Why?" 

(Y/N)'s laughter filled the one place his own happiness couldn't fill quite as well: his heart.

—————

     Pleasing's Cupid Collection available now. 

(Y/N) barely noticed the notification sliding down the top of her screen, seeing as she was already on the main page of the brand's website. Refreshing the site, the homepage completely rearranged to showcase the dual collection now available for patrons to browse, her own face flashing in the campaign video playing at the top of the page. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. 

Was this how Harry felt every time he released music? Or really anything for the world to see?

With the way her heart hammered in her chest, she wasn't sure how he survived things like this. 

Another notification pinged at the top of her phone. Pleasing had just made a post on Instagram. 

Tapping on the dropdown, she was taken from the Pleasing page and to her instagram app. The new post popped up automatically. 

The shot showcased a collection of polaroid photos, some of behind the scenes shots of official photos for the campaign and others showing candid moments between the models and production during the making of the shoot. They were all laid out on a satiny pink sheet, a dreamy filter adding gleaming lights and iridescent shifts throughout the page. 

There was one familiar polaroid that caught her eye—one that was barely within frame but something she had seen enough times she could spot with the barest of pixels. Just barely, she could see herself leaning against the chest of someone who was almost completely cut out of the frame, leaving only a set of arms to be seen wrapped around her shoulders with her eyes closed in contentment. 

Just barely, through the haze of the filter, (Y/N) could see a small tattoo on her companion's hand: a black cross. 

As if being summoned by her thoughts alone, those same arms draped themselves around her from where she stood in the middle of the kitchen. Harry's chin settled on her shoulder, looking at her screen as she pulled up the comments on the photos. 

"What's everyone saying?" he murmured, his lips pressing against the column of her throat in a delicate kiss. 

The smile that landed on her lips was tender and instinctual, something that settled there without her permission. She didn't have to truly read any of the commented reactions to know the public's opinion. 

"They love it," she told him, voice a quiet croon. 

"Yeah?" His smile was audible in his tone. "I think this one's gonna be the most popular yet." 

"You think so?" (Y/N) questioned, swiping out of the reactions if only to see the glimpse of their polaroid once more. 

Placing a gentle hand on her cheek, Harry tipped her chin to face him. There was a gleam in his eyes that (Y/N) never realized was so familiar until the first time they kissed. There was a small tug to the corner of his lips, a single dimple denting his cheek. 

"Yeah. I've jus' got a feeling." 

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers.

—————

:)))) thank you for reading, so sorry if there's any mistakes and if theres any questions or anything you have please please send them in! I hope you enjoyed :)

[bleedingoptimism]

Steve likes to watch youtube videos of a guy who restores old consoles. It soothing to him, it relaxes him. He likes watching how he restores them, fixes them, makes them look brand new.

He also enjoys watching him work for… other reasons. Weirdly, he thinks the guy is kind of hot, even if he never shows his face. He looks fit, with the way his shirts stretch over his chest and are loose on his tiny waist and he’s always wearing cool belts, black leather with studs or chains. He likes the way he moves around, manic and a little clumsy but incredibly precise when necessary.

Steve especially likes watching his hands, thick strong fingers, bony wrists, noticeable veins, and short clean nails that sometimes have chipped black polish adorning them.

He sometimes thinks about those hands when he's alone, but, well… no one needs to know about that.

🎮🤲💖

Eddie has a fairly popular youtube channel… And a huge crush on his next-door neighbor. He simply cannot decide if the dude is cutter than hot or vice-versa.

'He sure is nice, though,' he thinks, when one day he gets a large package of replacement parts that he’s struggling to get inside and the guy walks up to him, asks if he needs any help, and takes the heaviest box with no effort at all.

He says his name is Steve and then stares at Eddie's hand for a really long time when Eddie extends it for him to shake after getting the boxes inside his studio.

He hears Steve’s little 'oh', under his breath and then sees him blush prettily before mumbling ‘He needs to go, now.' And stumbling out of Eddie’s place.

Eddie chuckles to himself as he watches him leave, definitely cute AND hot in equal parts.

🎮🤲💖

A few weeks later Steve's mom tells him she needs help getting rid of some of his nonno's old things and he finds a LOT of cool stuff that look just like the ones Eddie restores on his channel.

He and Eddie have been slowly getting friendlier over these last couple of weeks and he’s been dying to have an excuse to talk to him more, so he takes the items home and then goes to Eddie's and very nervously tries to offer them to him but doesn't know how to explain he knows he's a youtuber without looking like a weirdo because Eddie’s never shown his face.

He stumbles and blushes a lot, barely making any sense and Eddie mistakenly thinks he's trying to ask him out and says, 

"I'd love to go on a date with you," Smiling and hiding his dimples behind a lock of hair he's been playing with since the moment Steve started stuttering.

Steve completely forgets what he was trying to say or do and says he'll pick him out at 6.

The date is amazing, it feels like they are meant to be. They get along so well, talking, laughing, and already making fun of each other as if they’re old friends. And they are definitely attracted to one another. If the way Eddie practically tackles Steve with his rush to get his mouth on him when they get back, it’s any indication.  

Steve is very on board with this and he enthusiastically kisses him back. They kiss desperately as he fumbles with his door handle to get it open. When he succeeds, he walks them backward into his place not wanting to stop kissing Eddie, but stumbles and falls flat on his ass.

When Eddie turns on the light he sees Steve sprawled on top of a bunch of boxes full of old technology. A lot of emotions go through his face, ‘he’s so expressive’ Steve thinks a little enamored, having still not realized how much trouble he’s in.

But Eddie looks confused, then shocked and scared, and finally, angry,

"Steve, what the fuck?"

‘Oh, shit…’

“I can explain!” he says immediately, standing up and walking toward Eddie as he backs away,

“I didn’t want to ask you out-” Steve starts but interrupts himself when Eddie huffs, turns, and starts walking towards his own apartment, “Shit, fuck! No- That’s not what I meant, Eddie! Wait-”

He turns again and glares at Steve but then his eyes go wide, “Steve,”

“Please, let me explain-”

“Steve-”

“I did- do! Want to ask you out! I like yo-”

“Steve!” Eddie screams and Steve stops, shocked, and finally focuses. Eddie is staring at him and he’s so pale even his freckles have changed color. But no, wait. He’s not staring at him, he’s staring at his arm and Steve looks down to see… a lot of blood.

“Oh,” he says faintly. He must have cut himself on a sharp edge when he fell. Too worried about Eddie, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that he’s seeing the cut, it fucking hurts.

“Oh,” he says again, realizing he’s feeling kind of dizzy, ‘that's way too much blood,’ he thinks.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie huffs, takes off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around Steve's arm, he pulls Steve by his other hand toward his van.

“Oh no, your cute shirt,” he mumbles and hears Eddie snort before he slams the door of the passenger seat and goes to the driver’s one.

They go to the hospital in silence. It's tense. Steve tries to explain himself but Eddie shuts him up harshly, tells him to save his energy.

Even so, when they get there, Eddie still holds him gently by his good arm as he helps him inside. He tells the nurse what happened because Steve is having a hard time focusing right now and then tells him he’ll wait outside for him.

He gets stitches and a tetanus shot just in case because he doesn't remember when was the last time he got one and gets weird looks when he refuses painkillers, but no arguments. He’s given a little juice box and is told he can't get up until he finishes it.

A few seconds after the nurse leaves, the door opens and Eddie walks in. Steve looks up and smiles at him, but Eddie doesn’t smile back and Steve shrinks a little on himself.

Eddie sits on the chair facing the overbed table Steve is perched on and sighs, moving his hand in little circles motioning like, ‘Well go on. Explain yourself’

Steve looks around the room and thinks about where to start. He can't look Eddie in the eye, so he stares at the little juice box in his hands. It's got a cartoon orange in the front. The drawing it’s awful and kind of scary.

Taking a deep breath, he starts, “I've been watching your videos for a long time now. I have- I am- I-”

He fumbles for what to say, even if this date is already ruined…it's not exactly a good first date topic, is it? How fucked up he’s inside.

In a flash, images of his father’s violence, running from home with his mom, going to live with his nonno, taking care of him as he slowly lost his mind with age while his mom worked her ass off to feed them, getting cheated on, losing his “friends” because he didn't want to bully freshmen, working as a babysitter and getting almost beat up to death by his kid’s stepbrother… he shakes his head and shrugs,

“I've been through some…stuff” is what he says in the end, looking up at Eddie. He doesn't look mad anymore, his expressive eyes look concerned. Steve worries about what was it Eddie saw in his own expression, but it surprises him how easily he read him. He’s usually so good at hiding it. 

He breathes in again and keeps going, “Your videos, they calm me down when I've, sometimes I get anxious and-” he clears his throat, again, not wanting to tell Eddie about the panic attacks, the nightmares.

But it seems he doesn't have to, Eddie looks at him like he gets it.

It makes Steve want to keep talking, “Watching you work, seeing you fix things, leave them like new, no sca- marks, no problems, just working again and beautifully clean. It makes me feel better.” 

Eddie gives him a small smile and Steve returns it, “I really like your hands…” he blurts out and then closes his mouth quickly, blushing furiously.

Eddie’s eyes go wide and then he smirks and stands up slowly walking up to him and taking Steve’s hands on his own, they both stare at their joined hands for a while, the touch feather-like and soft.

“You recognized me because of my hands?” Eddie asks him a little incredulous.

Steve giggles, “I saw the logo for your channel on your studio that day I helped you with the boxes,” he clarifies sheepishly.

Eddie blushes and opens his mouth in a silent ‘oh,’

Steve draws small circles on Eddie's knuckles with his thumbs, “When I came over today, I was just trying to offer you those stuff at my place, they were my grandfather's” he explains, “I didn’t know how to say I knew who you were without looking like a weirdo and I got nervous and you thought I was going to ask you out and I wasn’t planning to but you are so beautiful I-

Eddie kisses his cheek and Steve shuts up and looks at him surprised,

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Eddie says, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought- I was just upset you didn’t actually like me.” 

And Steve immediately answers, “I like you” a little too excitedly.

Eddie smiles at him so warmly it makes his heart rate pick up, “Good. I like you too.”

He blushes and looks down at their hands again unsure, “Do you really? Even tho I’m…”

“What?” Eddie asks, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

“Broken?” Steve whispers.

Eddie hums and drops his hands to hold his face, “Not broken, baby” he says lovingly and kisses the crease between Steve’s brows, the top of his eyelid, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Then hugs him and Steve buries his face on Eddie's neck, and breathes him in.

A minute goes by or an hour, Steve is not sure, and Eddie leans back enough to kiss him again softly and whispers, “Some things don't need to be fixed Steve, just held.” 

𝒻𝒾𝓃

coffee? a hug? ☕🥐💕

[iiannabxth]

class of 09 girls + their aesthetics bc i’m tired of people not getting them.

(minor tw for sh & ed):

jecka: she’s literally a preppy, trendy 2000s teen. she wears lacoste/abercrombie polo shirts, hollister skinny jeans, american eagle, bebe jackets, and juicy couture. a lot of her clothes come from her mom’s job, as apparently her mom gets them for free.

she is a “pharma-princess” and openly idolizes paris hilton. she smokes cigarettes and casually abuses painkillers. she may be a little trashy, but she dresses like any other fashionable girl from that era.

nicole: for starters, shes lower middle class. her mom buys the cheapest internet and cable packages, as well as having nicole on the assisted lunch plan. with that being said, she’s not buying a ton of miss me jeans, bb belts, or affliction shirts. shes a hot topic/spencers fiend bc she can steal it. her outfits are usually a hoodie, tank top, or t-shirt with ripped skinny jeans- which is to say they aren’t very complicated. i think people get confused and try and dress her in the modern “y2k” fashion, but it doesn’t really work for her.

shes severely depressed and winning the idagf war, which is shown in her makeup and nails. i think her makeup routine is very messy and smudged, but thats lowkey the look.

emily: shes rich, but she doesn’t care or acknowledge it. she can buy whatever she wants, but chooses to go for the grungey/emo look. even though she’s the most “scene” character, she still follows a few trends- ex: the lifeguard hoodie. her hair is definitely damaged by the box bleach she uses and the excessive use of her straightener. i also think she 100% has raccoon eyes (in the avril lavigne-way.)

she parties with her sketchy boyfriends, day drinks, and does almost any drug she can get her hands on. she’s suicidal and highkey crazy, which results in her tattoos and scars. (the excessive SH-culture is completely on brand for the 2000s.)

ari: borderline manic pixie dream girl going through a sexuality crisis. she’s almost emo, but not quite. she wears winged eyeliner and red lipgloss. her wardrobe consists of mostly graphic tee shirts and skinny + bootcut jeans. she dyes her hair because “no one understands her,” but she still has a decent relationship with her parents.

she used to be a girl scout, so she definitely cuts her own hair and thinks it’s rebellious. i think her favorite shoe would be black high top converse.

kelly: is the definition of a trendy, trashy, 2000s girl. kelly is also rich (as stated by jecka.) she’s popular with the boys because she’s pretty, has big boobs, and dtf. she wears a lot of hollister, wet seal, juicy couture, and victoria secret. i think she would wear a full face of makeup to school. her hair is dyed blonde but she keeps the roots grown out just a little.

megan: 2000s THEATRE KID!! she’s ARTSY, not EMO. she’s apparently pretty, but not pretty enough to be constantly hit on. she wears a lot of media/pop culture clothing and jeans. her hair color is her natural hair color and her nail polish is always chipped.

jecka & hunter say she’s a christian girlie, so most of her outfits are more modest and toned down compared to some of the other girls. she probably wears minimal makeup unless she’s doing a show.

karen: she’s dorky and nerdy to the extreme. she looks very mousy and homely. she likes twilight and harry potter + she works at a library (and is strict about the rules.) karen likes and is good at school. she probably only wears mascara and medicated chapstick, as well as her glasses. she has a messy bob that she never styles.

she’s also insecure about her body, as jecka and nicole make her relapse on her ED, so she wears baggier clothing than any of the other characters.

i think she would wear sketchers and jeggings.

anywho, i like this game and im also super into the genuine 2000s fashion, so a part of me dies whenever i see someone say “nicole listens to ayesha erotica!!” or “jecka wears affliction and bb belts!” girl bffr.

[annievrse]

treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen

satoru x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: you and gojo like each other, that much is obvious. how he goes about it though, your friends aren't the biggest fans (and neither are you). w/c: 2.1k

“why does everything with you have to be so difficult?” 

shoko and suguru grumble from their spots next to and diagonal to you, respectively, but you ignore them. your focus is on satoru, who sits directly across from you, his hands clasped on the table before him.

the white-haired man wiggles his eyebrows. “it’s fun getting you all riled up.”

rolling your eyes, you take the last chocolate mochi from the package and shove it in your mouth, narrowing your eyes at satoru. all he does is smile widely and push his sunglasses into his hair.

"is that good?"

you don't miss the teasing undertones of his words, and stop chewing, a sudden tang of something in your mouth.

shoko tenses next to you, anger radiating off her. "gojo, i swear, if you–"

noticing his friend's bouncing knee and suppressed smile, suguru sighs. "he did," he mumbles, rubbing his face with his palm.

you shake your head, gathering the mochi you've chewed in one lump before you spit it out into the white box it came in. "what the fuck?"

holding an empty ketchup and mustard packet between his pointer and middle finger, satoru breaks into a fit of giggles.

with tears in your eyes from the disgusting taste of chocolate mixed with the condiments, you glare up at him. "this is why girls don't like you."

"oh please," satoru laughs, his eyes gliding over shoko and suguru, who don't smile. his own fades slightly, and when his gaze returns to you, it disappears off his cheeks. "come on! it was a little funny."

"we've somewhere to be," shoko stands, grabbing your hand to pull you up. "no boys allowed."

"wha–"

pulling you through the crowded outside area of the cafe, shoko throws satoru one last glare before smiling at suguru. "bye!"

you didn't mean for him to hear the whole story, in fact, he wasn't meant to know at all. sitting in shoko's dorm, you recount the events that happened earlier in the day.

you were grabbing lunch at the cafe down the street and replacing the chocolate mochi that satoru had ruined for you when you ran straight into nanami kento. he's a student in the same year as you, and he was extremely friendly and offered to carry your bags on the route back to campus.

"he's sweet," shoko comments, painting her middle finger a deep purple.

"he is!" you nod. "satoru would never."

shoko lifts her head from her hand and tilts her head. "he does for me when i let him."

your forehead creases and your stomach drops. "really?"

she nods and dips the brush into the nail polish bottle. "suguru offers more, forces me to give him my bags, but satoru does sometimes."

you turn your attention to your toenails, red, and the brush you hold limply in your fingers.

"hm," you hum, choosing to concentrate on painting your nails instead of satoru's chosen courtesy.

a sudden, loud pounding on the door almost makes you drop the nail polish, but then satoru is entering and flopping down on shoko's bed, shoes and coat on.

"shoes off right now, gojo."

"yes, miss," he mumbles, toeing off his adidas. then, satoru rolls over and presses his face into your hip.

"get off," you spit, suddenly angered by his presence.

"what?" he asks, head lifting off the mattress quickly. "what's your problem?"

scoffing, you shift away from him. "you!"

satoru sits up, eyes squinting at you. "me?"

"yes!" you slam the capped bottle onto the bedside table and stand up. "you know what happened today?"

satoru tilts his head in question, waiting for you to continue.

"kento helped me carry my bags back here. when was the last time you did that for me?"

"woah, woah! what? nanami?"

you nod.

"nanami kento, the nerd? he helped you? what did he say to you? did he try to chat you up?"

"chat me up?" you gape. "that's all you're worried about right now? whether a guy tried to ask me out?"

"what else should i be worried about?"

you glance at shoko, but she shakes her head, choosing to stay out of the argument.

"you're kidding."

satoru shrugs and stands too, looking down at you, but his height never intimidates you.

"you're too good for him," satoru laughs, waving his hand like the motion and his words would dismiss the entire conversation.

"who are you to decide that?"

"considering i've been your best friend for like 14 years, i think i know your worth, and it's definitely higher than his."

"you're deluded," you chided. "and who, exactly, would you allow me to be with? whose worth is equal to mine?"

satoru rolls his eyes and gestures to himself. "me, obviously."

you choke out a laugh and watch when his face falls. "sho, have you ever met anyone so delusional?"

"alright," shoko says, nervously looking at satoru.

you swear your eye twitches. "satoru, i will literally eat you. shut up." satoru's solemn expression makes your stomach do funny things.

choosing to defuse the situation instead of making it worse, shoko tries to poke fun. "you're jealous, gojo. we get it, it's okay."

spinning to meet shoko's gaze, satoru blushes a deep pink that you can't see. "no," and the shaking of his head tensely and the widening of his eyes has shoko snickering because she sees right through him. she doesn't realise she is right on the money.

"bye." and then he's out the door, his shoes in his hand.

"man, he's got problems. who does he think he is?"

shoko sighs, a faint smile on her lips. "agreed."

"call me that one more time and see what happens."

you roll your lips between your teeth, a smile threatening to break across your face. "gojo, gojo, gojo."

"satoru!" he pouts. "you always call me satoru. stop that."

you giggle into your hand, satoru's fallen expression causing you to burst. you'd both clearly forgotten what happened at shoko's yesterday, and it was obvious when said girl looked at your expressions. this always occurred between you and satoru, nothing was ever that serious, but to onlookers, it was odd, to say the least. shoko always questioned whether she knew either of you as well as she thought because it was clear you and satoru were each other's makers.

satoru's eyes shift under his purple sunglasses, mischief swimming in his blue irises. then, satoru steps toward you, placing his hands on the back of your arms. "don't make me shake you."

"satoru," you whisper, peering up at him. at the sound of his name, he visibly melts. his shoulders relax, and his face morphs into relief.

"thank you," satoru nods, rubbing your skin. "now, was that so hard?"

"i dont know, gojo, you tell me."

"are we gonna stop them soon?" suguru asks shoko where they sit on the picnic bench. the girl rolls her eyes and sighs.

"gojo! quit. leave her alone."

the white-haired man turns his head sharply, eyes lasering into shoko's. "if you don't like it, you can leave, ieiri."

"gojo," shoko deadpans. "calling me by my family name doesn't bother me."

ignoring her, satoru turns back to you. "fine." and then he backs up, hands in the air. "if you hate me so much, i guess i'll cancel our reservations at the karaoke place on friday."

"no," suguru cuts in, standing from the bench. "don't be ridiculous, satoru. we've been waiting for that for weeks."

satoru shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. "if someone doesn't fix their attitude, it's not happening."

this time, both you and shoko are rolling your eyes—you because satoru is being annoying, and shook because you won't give in.

"you could end this right now, you know?" she calls to you.

sighing, you shrug. "it's more fun when he's like this."

shoko mumbles under her breath and picks up her bag. "you two were made for each other. i'm off. c'mon suguru."

despite gojo's threats, karaoke went ahead on friday.

you and shoko showed up a little late due to a wardrobe malfunction. emerging from the train station, you see suguru and satoru sitting with their backs against the brick wall of the small restaurant next to the karaoke joint.

"about time!" satoru exclaims, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "we were about to go in there and sing 'my heart will go on' without you."

suguru rolls his eyes and stands. "ignore him."

you nod. "already do."

satoru's jaw goes slack, and he clambers upright. "rude."

"alright," shoko shrugs her bag higher on her shoulder. "let's sing."

the night wasn't going as you had anticipated. shoko accidentally knocked her drink over your top, leaving it wet and sticky and smelling of tequila, suguru passed the microphone a little too hard at you and ended up hitting you in the temple, and satoru offered you his hoodie.

now, this isn't an issue, considering you've been friends for longer than you hadn't and wore various parts of his closet for fun sometimes. but the matter is, his ex-girlfriend gave him his hoodie, and it was damn expensive too. you and her didn't struggle to get on, no, it was the notion that she felt threatened by you in private. while they were together, it was a secret that she felt this way, so when satoru told you why they broke up, you felt bitterly about her. thinking you were friends with your best friend's, albeit crush's girlfriend, was both a relief and depressing.

so, the hoodie is a problem.

but satoru was happy to throw the garment at your head, yell "cover up that ugly top", and continue screaming the lyrics to 'teenage dream' by katy perry.

but, it's a problem that you endure because satoru is giving you his hoodie. pulling it over your head and threading your arms into the sleeves was fine. the material was soft, and the hoodie was slouchy and comfortable. and it wasn't until you pulled the hood over your head that you finally acknowledged the scent of him. and then your mind started to wander.

was he only giving you this hoodie to quash all feelings you had for him? did he know? was this one of his tricks to get you to like him like that? isn't that what he did to all the girls? what did he call it again?

treat 'em mean to keep 'em keen? yeah, that's the one. but this was a little too mean for you, and you couldn't help the sour attitude brewing in your stomach.

you felt your cheeks heating up and immediately had to dispel your awkward stillness. "this smells so bad. do you even wash your clothes 'toru?"

"pfft," he scoffs, the music changing on the screen behind him. "says you! you might have to keep that after wearing it. i can't stand your stench."

shoko snatches the microphone out of his hand and pushes him off the small stage. "move, it's my turn."

stumbling, satoru takes a seat next to you. you don't look up at him, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"you look cute in that, actually," he mumbles as the tune to 'the sweet escape' fades in.

"shut up," you say, leaning on him, watching shoko and suguru make the chorus a duet.

"sorry."

you furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him. "what for?"

"i know you know where the hoodie's from. i shouldn't have said that."

you shake your head, the tips of your ears burning. "it's fine."

"take it off," he grumbles, fingers playing with the hem of the jumper.

startled, you rest your hands on him. "no, it's fine. my top's ugly anyway, and it smells."

satoru huffs. "your top isn't ugly. it's hot," his eyes burn through the material on your chest and you inhale sharply.

"satoru," you whisper dangerously. your eyes widen when you realise where his gaze lays and you slap his bicep. "stop."

maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you'd both gotten tired of teasing that the only thing left to do was to air out how you felt (finally).

"surely you have to know how i feel about you," he exhales a laugh and turns to your best friends who are dancing to 'can't get you out of my head'. "i know i can be a dick, but you're no angel either."

your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek, suppressing a laugh. "fair. but i love annoying you."

"likewise," he winks. "let me take you out properly?"

the question takes you off guard, and you glance at shoko and suguru, who are paying you no mind. "because you and i are worth the same?"

satoru opens his mouth to reply, probably one that would get him smacked, but the silence of the room cuts him off.

"gojo, remove your hands!" shoko yells into the microphone. you jump in surprise, and gojo drops your hands.

you shrug at satoru and stand, knocking into suguru when he shoves the microphone into your hand.

and 'blah blah blah' plays on repeat in satoru's head until you agree to go out with him, thanks to shoko.

[cowgirlcherrie]

𓏲 APPLE OF MY EYE ᵎᵎ secret admirer! abby anderson

synopsis: love is a free spirit; crushing is even harder. It all started with a special delivery of anonymous treats at your door. While you were yearning that it would be your best friend sending them to you.

song(s): apple cider by beabadoobee

*LYRICS ARE BOLDED

content: takes place in game universe. follows the events leading up to seattle day 1. violence. death. repetitive mentions of apples; eating them, imagery etc. mutual pinning. implied character death by end. blood. right person, wrong time. missed connection. kinda implied fem! reader. Joel death mention. death foreshadowing. intuitive knowledge of death. Closely follows the song.

WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER

Crush and Crunch.

Crunching with your crush. 

It all sounded the same to you, the cracking of your vocal cords at the back of your throat pushing at enunciating every syllable in crush sounding like crunch; which were your teeth poking into an apple every Tuesday. Shiny Granny Smiths, on Tuesdays, Honeycrisps on Wednesdays, and Fuji on Fridays. 

You weren’t sure when the kitchen started getting apple deliveries; perhaps the never-ending garden of trees grown them with the perfect analytics to make sure they weren’t poisonous or synthetic apples but you weren’t complaining. The first time you tried an apple sounded ridiculous to say. Your first ever. You took the finely cut slice; detached from its core to your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors mixed together in your mouth like a rollercoaster. Juicy and bitter with a tinge of sweetness.  Just how you liked it.

Abby said they were even better with cinnamon. Rambling on about how sugar and spice equate to everything nice and the best finger-licking of your dreams. On apple days, during breakfast you found yourself sitting at a secluded table with Abby in front of you slicing the apples so they were easier to consume. Shared amongst the two of you as your hands reached for the same slices; Abby pulled her hand away to let you have the last. 

BUT YOUR HAIR BE SMELLING LIKE FRUIT PUNCH

You enjoyed these bittersweet moments; like the apples of course. The sun beamed on Abby’s face in marigold and marmalade, as her blonde locks blew in the air slightly disheveled from when she went on patrol that day. Her fresh scent of pine, and fruit blend from her hair which was refreshing and comforting you. She took a final bite before flipping the knife down to take it back to the utensil bin for washing. Where then the two of you would part ways. It was never awkward. Eating apples in silence; you mean — because Abby had a schedule more vigorous and deathly than yours and you had other businesses to attend to. But she never would miss out on an Apple time with you. 

AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU THAT MUCH

You’ve grown suspicious in recent meters. You weren’t one to talk about love either but it somehow found some way to bite back at you like the juices of the apple splattering on your lips when you would eat them.

WAIT, I DO, FUCK.

It started with suspicious packages revealing themselves outside of your door, wrapped in a delicate ribbon, with a brown paper box tied off with the most absurd cursive handwriting that you could hardly read. But somehow making out, the delicate notion of

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Xoxo, eyes from afar.

CALL ME, AT MIDNIGHT.

So as anyone else would, at midnight, you stomped your way to Abby’s door pounding your fist into the wood until she slammed it open looking at you in bewilderment. Toothbrush in between her lips scratching her teeth; scrubbing away at any build-up as she watched you. Notioning with her hands for you to speak. She looked carefree, laidback her hair was down and she looked as though she freshly showered. 

“Thanks for the gift” you smirk, holding up the box with randomized love and self-care books with an intact nail polish set that was on top. It was a variety pack, swishes of different shades of pink and white, and even nudes to go for a clear coat; like a puff of cotton candy.

You were flattered, naturally, it was a sweet gift like a candy cane in the sweet summer breeze you wanted to just rip it out of the packaging and have a go. You also never had someone be so considerate of you. Thinking to bring you back something so pure and valuable that surely wouldn’t collect dust but you would bring out every month. You would make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

Abby furrowed her eyebrows, holding up her pointer finger motioning – one minute, running to the sink and spitting out the toothpaste rinsing her mouth off. 

“I didn’t give you that.” Abby specified, taking a washcloth to wipe at her hands and around her mouth as she let you inside.

“C’mon Abs, even if you did that’s—”

“I didn’t give that to you.” Abby’s voice was more serious this time, stern and strict with some urgency. Not that she was being rude about it, but she was trying to get you off her case. After a long day of patrolling where she did find goodies you would like along with some ribbons from a craft store along the way, Abby got to work making you a sweet delivery. After all, you deserved it. 

“But who else would know I like apples besides you!”

“Manny, Mel, Nora, Ow–”

“Okay I didn’t ask for names.” You hushed, fiddling with the box in your hand as you looked at the treats inside. Biting at your lips, it was like being given a hug but the person who gave it to you disappeared before you can offer one better, or even fully wrap your arms around them to give one back.

“This was really sweet I just wish I could give something back.” You mumbled, tilting your head down to look at the books yearningly. Amidst the violence, the blood, and the chaos, you still loved and that was what pushed you forward. That was what erupted a fire in you; triggering your passion and jumpstarting your heart like cables to a car. 

“I think you shouldn’t worry about it,” Abby suggested, not looking at you but folding her laundry to put away for safekeeping.

“What?” 

“What.” Abby shot back, acting as if she didn’t say anything prior, but you heard her well. Your friend, heart, and soul were being shifty with you; acting as if she didn’t care about your treats or that you were being admired from afar by someone with a sweet gentle heart. 

“Nevermind I’m being silly” You confessed, taking your words back and turning on your heels to leave her room.

Abby wasn’t going to let you leave. Lips parted as she watched your feet get closer and closer to the exit of the door.

LETS GIVE, THIS, THING A TRY.

“Show me.” 

You stopped walking, turning around slowly on your heels. Part of you wished it was Abby, though she would never really know. You watched the way she looked at Owen with appreciation but also disgust. How her love turned to hatred and pain. Abby wasn’t focused on you, you would think.

Abby wasn’t focused on you.

“What?”

“I said show me,” Abby confessed, her voice as clear as day, “C’mere…” Abby patted the side of her bed where she sat comfortably. 

“G‘head tell me about it. I wanna see it too” Abby gave a smile. Truth is, behind her push n’ pull —  rigid love and aggression she still hoped for you. Amidst her passive-aggressiveness, she was giving the love she felt as though she would never feel again. The permanent hole in her heart that you kept on refiling and you didn’t even know. 

She didn’t want you to slip through the cracks of her fingers just yet. Hiding behind a mask, cowardly shying herself away from you. Owen wasn’t on her mind but having you think that especially as she set off on a spree for the man who killed Jerry, would fix that. You were a liability, she wouldn’t let you go. 

You made your way down the steps, to her bed tucked in the corner nook, sitting down as you opened the package. With that you started rambling, tossing the paper apart like a kid on Christmas, showing Abby the hardcover copies with a dopey smiley on your face. Abby couldn’t contain her own smile either. Watching as you went through each nail polish shade.

“Can I try these on you?” You held up a baby pink, it was in a ballet slipper shade, which would make a good neutral against her bright skin. 

Abby wasn’t going to resist, shrugging up her shoulders against her black long-sleeve shirt, pushing the shirt up on her arms, “Sure”

So you proceeded further with painting her nails that evening, toxic paint brushing on her fingers like a canvas —  while the two of you whisked away in laughter. It was like a red string wrapped around the two of your fingers, webbing you together and pulling you closer and closer until there was no gaps or lack of air. 

It was pure and for the moment you really valued it. What you didn’t know you had until it was gone. You wished you could have hugged her a little bit longer, and learned more about her besides what she was showing you at a service level. You wanted to know Abigail, not Abby. Before it was snatched away from you with the snap of the fingers. Get the gunpowder dust off the sea salt it was time for war. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED MY HAIR, SO GO AHEAD AND TOUCH IT.

I like your hair today, and your necklace  xoxo, eyes from afar

Maybe it was the validation or the comments but you loved receiving the little notes wrapped in different color ribbons. Maybe you were looking forward to catching your second set of eyes. Lingering outside your door to see if they would show but it was always as if they knew your schedule. Catering to the perfect moments that you were gone to slip the delight at your door. 

The note of this week – bringing joyous to your being made you wear the delicate jewelry even more. At first, when you wore it, it was just a careless decision that you did for fun. Spontaneous and last minute as you untangled it in between your fingertips pulling out the birthstone necklace that was gifted to you from no other than Abby herself; weeks before the arrival of your secret admirer. But the moment you remembered, clasping it on around your neck was the moment you truly valued it even more. You were certainly never going to take it off. 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE JUMPER I WORE, SO I ALWAYS WORE IT.

But your bright radiating aura, evidently in hues of pink and purple; signs of love and wisdom was shortly dimmed by the chatter during your afternoon meal. You were set to follow Jordan to the Serevena, patrolling being the last thing you wanted to do of the evening. Endless pit in your stomach nothing felt right. The snap before everything fell apart. 

Out for blood, out for vengeance was Abigail Anderson who returned with blood on her hands. Murderer!Murderer! Red-handed girl with fury in her eyes and a golf club sharp at the end splattering everything into two. 

Wrecking havoc; causing destruction. 

That was all you heard from Jordan as you chewed through the same-old burrito that evening. That was enough to make your eardrums bleed. You could feel your heart in your ears jumping out of your chest at the whispers of Abby’s name, eyes darting from table to table to hear if anyone had caught wind of such a subject: 

I heard she… 

Can’t imagine that…

That’s terrifying…

No Abby mention.

Coincidentally amongst Abby’s absence; the snarky girl was gone with the wind, and so was your secret admirer. The deliveries stopped coming, you were alone, with a set of eyes ‘watching you’ and apples to now peel on your own. . . you found it odd, but one thing for sure was that Abby would hear from you later, where you would gush about this admirer of yours and what you imagined them to be.

IT’S REALLY NICE TO TALK TO YOU, IT’S REALLY NICE TO HOLD YOUR HAND

“Abs on a scale of 1-10 how attractive do you think my admirer is” You pondered, hands entangled in the pages of a fashion magazine. Fingers dusting away at the thin layer of grime and grey from the dust and dirt; signs of age.

“Probably like a 3” Abby confessed bluntly as she walked around her room moving vastly to pack away her belongings. 

Abby’s side of her room was neater in comparison to Manny’s, her laundry was folded, memories stored away for safekeeping, and everything was where it needed to be. Including your ribbon and the scissors she used — the bad duct tape she stole for security. 

“Really?”

“Okay, maybe a 5, it could well off be a creep,” Abby muttered as she continued to push different survival items into her bag, jacket first, followed by flashlights and extra batteries. 

“I don’t think it is though,” Abby froze, panicking instilling in her, it was like a vicious game of hot and cold, you creeping closer and closer to her and it was time for Abby to fall back and bring on the passiveness. 

“What?”

“I mean imagine this, they send me a final letter asking me to meet by the gardens where they reveal their identity to be no other than —”

“Save that for a fantasy, I’m leaving” Abby spat, cutting the happiness in the air with a thick knife which was her voice that evening. It felt like a safety net for her to drop off bad news right after you gave the good ones, almost debunking it creating a hostile environment, and shattering the rose-tinted glasses off. Then you remembered who you were talking to, what you were doing. A flower in the middle of an apocalypse, Abby being covered in thorns. 

“Is it because you killed that man”

“What makes you think it’s…who told you?” Abby furrowed her eyebrows stopping her movement to let you get a good look at her face.  Abby was looking you up and down like you ripped the bandaid off her arm like you were digging your fingers into a cut infecting it with your fingertips and any active bacteria. 

“Word travels around here pretty fast, this isn’t knew information”

A beat. And then another.

“Are you satisfied” You perk up, not breaking eye contact with the blonde in front of you. The fresh azul orbs dilating under the words that left your mouth. She looked at you with such admiration, but the mention of Jerry was enough to make Abby swing hard as she was back in the room holding her weapon of choice. Who was she to play god? Be the bearer of death? Call of evil? Abby thought back to what she was fighting for: was she satisfied? It wouldn’t bring her father back but there was a price on her head. Preferably until her life was obliterated and gone with her head. 

“Hmm”

“Because you don’t look satisfied” Your voice cracked, you were cutting into her skin and Abby was growing steadily uncomfortable, shifting her weight. Cracking her knuckles and rolling her head as she looked at you. Like a pretty Jem stone in a dimly lit room; all eyes on you she didn’t want to talk about this with you. Someone she was so emotionally connected with, god — anybody else but you.

“I…I need to go.” Abby stood up, swinging her backpack in her arms as you followed suit in the silence.

You stood up mimicking her actions taking your magazine in between your fingers and holding it close to your chest. 

“When will you be back?” you whispered, picking at the skin surrounding your nails as you rubbed your lips against each other as you rocked your body forward and backward. Abby’s eyes softened, looking at you up and down as she stuck her tongue in her cheek, clenching her jaw tightly. It almost pained her to say. 

AND EVEN IF WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, WE CAN BE, MORE THAN THAT.

“Soon…I hope, I’ll be back soon” Abby asserted. Abby bowed her head, cusping your cheeks in between her hands as she gave a chaste kiss to your cheek. Calloused fingers rubbing at your soft skin, It was a friendly thing, right? Nothing more?

She didn’t even like you that much.

But you on the other hand weren’t sure of your own feelings.

Like a tough game of tug-of-war, you wanted her, then you didn’t, then you couldn’t shake yourself out of it. You liked her and you wanted her. You wished and hoped that the admirer of yours would be her. The person you had sleepovers where you would laugh about your events and enjoy the delicacies delivered by your admirer you would have it no other way.

When she pulled away you struggled to find the words, hands jittery somewhere between reaching to grab your cheek or to wipe off her kiss with your hand. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was as if someone held a gun to your head telling you the right pill or blue.  

“May your survival be long” you reminded, holding a hand at your arm scratching at your sleeves.

“May your death be swift” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

CALL ME AT MIDNIGHT, LETS GIVE THIS THING A TRY.

If you could do it all again you would. 

ASK YOU IF ITS OKAY,

You were alone, deep into your ocean of thoughts as your happy moments were coming to an end? Did you take it for granted? 

TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER,

The burrito you ate that evening wanting to come up, mouth sticky with bile. You suddenly didn’t want to patrol the Serevena and help Nora move supplies. It felt wrong – almost impractical like you were in the wrong place. Foot cemented into the floor as you stood at your bed. Shoving supplies into your backpack, tying a strand of the ribbon from your admirer's box around the handle of your bag. You wanted to be back at the base with Abby where the two of you would have your sleepovers, cut your apples, and have competitive matches in the shooting range where you would tell Abby she missed a shot and she would tell you, you held the gun wrong. 

Preparing to leave, doing one final spin at your place of comfort. Freshly made bed and sorrowful grey sheets, you wished for a happier time and a great release. Opening your door, you were met with one box before you would go. Picking up the lightweight box it almost felt impractical to even be wrapped. 

TO DRINK SOME APPLE CIDER, OR MAYBE SOME FRUIT PUNCH

Parting gift for the one I stole these for… don’t forget me Xoxo, A. Anderson Your eyes always 

You smiled to yourself, it was all you ever wanted. Your best friend really was your admirer and you just hoped you could reach her before she was gone and it truly could have been your last time seeing her. Unwrapping the terribly wrapped paper object revealed a shiny sharpened knife with a brown handle. It was Abby’s knife, the one she savored and used only for your apples that she would cut during your lunch breaks. Tears brimmed your eyes moving the object around as if it were malleable, smiling gently to yourself at the irony of it all. Quickly locking the door and throwing the paper that was used to wrap the gift away in the hall trash you ran to try to catch Abby who was already on the truck, across from Mel as she set off on her journey. As the sun was getting low, so were you who had to travel adjacent from your new fount lover. 

What were you gonna say?

Besides: I knew it, of course, you wanted her to know that you felt the same; in fact even more.

AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW WE DON’T LIKE EACH OTHER THAT MUCH.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

“There’s no real you are real right now”

“Shh– baby, I’m real” Abby hushed bringing up her hand to your mouth to silence you. “I’m real.”

You were currently carrying a tray of med supplies but soon it all crashed to the ground; metal tin hitting the floor as Abby backed away into a corner. She looked disheveled different than you had last seen her; whispies around her face. Like she cared a little bit more, but maybe it was because she was with you. 

You couldn’t help but bring Abby into a tight hug head against her shoulder, resting your eyes in full solitude. You were home amidst the violence and her going AWOL that had made Isaac angry with all of you. You lied thickly through your teeth when Isaac dragged you in asking questions about the location and conspiration Abby had going on.

All you could say was you didn’t know.

And it wasn’t a lie but in fact the truth there was not much you really did know. 

Abby held onto you as if you were going to be snatched out of her hands as the both of you cried. Sobbs shaking the both of you. Abby couldn’t stop herself from applying gentle kisses to the side of your head and holding at the nape of your neck during the hug.

“You look like shit!” you acknowledged pulling at the sleeve of her jacket to which Abby rolled her eyes and pulled your hand away.

“Ahh could be worse”

A beat. And another; comfortable silence filling the air between the two of you. You didn’t wanna ask but for your newfound knowledge, you had no other choice but to. You wanted her to know, hell you haven’t seen her for very long and this well could have been the last time you would ever. 

“So it was you? All along” you sputtered, snickering under your breath as you brought your hands across your chest, licking the base of your lips as your eyes wandered off.

“It was – hey! You opened the letters” Abby gave you a look of disbelief, half of it was due to her being scared shitless, others it was the fact that Abby could feel her own hands getting clammy as she rubbed them against the base of her jeans to get it to stop.

“It said 2 —”

“Weeks I know” “I was desperate”

There was silence again. 

“I could just kiss you right now I can’t believe you are alive” You blurted out, giving Abby the most gentle smile. Abby for a second felt her world move in slow motion as she stared with such unconditional love. 

“Then do it”

So you did, rushing forward, throwing your body against Abby’s as the two of you leaned in for a swift kiss. Her lips were chapped, slightly rugged but you didn’t mind applying your smooth ones to her as the movements of your body synched together in eternal sunshine. Nothing in this moment mattered, besides her lips on yours and her hands against your body. Abby’s fingers stroked at your cheeks eventually moving down between your jaw and your neck as she continued. No breaks; no air, until the sound of boots stomping closer to the room rang your ears, forcing you to pull away.

“Okay, I need supplies miserably Nora brought me to you, I have to go, I don’t know if this will be my last time seeing you: I hope it’s not, I’m not exactly in Isaac’s good graces – I think we both know that” Abby spoke with urgency, distrust but also sadness. Abby wasn’t sure but recently she’s been feeling as though things were slipping in between her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long this ecstasy and rapture would last, or the longevity of her contentment. Abby was certain the girl from the room; with the golf club and joel would show her face again.

“It’s okay” you assured, hands now at Abby’s biceps, lips rubbing against each other as you turned your head away from her face, shaking it slightly. 

“But don’t forget. . .” “I’m so incredibly infatuated by you” Abby whispered as she moved in closer to give a swift kiss to your forehead.

Now wasn’t the time for formalities or titles, but you wished with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed shut, that she would return for the conversation worth having. Full honesty and confessional where your girl that smelled of pine would tell you all her rushes of thoughts that nagged at her as she closed her eyes.

“Knife to the chest sweetheart, swing with your right not your left…it’s your better arm” Abby cautioned, pretending to bring her arm up to swing, giving a final squeeze to your cheek as she was headed for the door preparing for ground zero.

“Bye Abby” 

That was the difference, it was as if your body knew. Saying Bye instead of a see you later or, playfully threatening her to come back to you in one piece. Your eyebrows furrowed; your face scrunched as you cringed at your words, as mediocre as they sounded. You caught yourself doing that a lot and you weren’t sure why. Going from present tense to past tense. “I am” to “I did” to “I was” , this happened after you started dreaming. Dreaming that your body was against a cold tile, scrunching into a ball as you let out your last breath alone.

You knew. 

“This is not goodbye — don’t say that, it’s see you later!” Abby snapped, giving you a hand motion as she swung the door open, crouching down as she moved steadily through the room as it closed behind her with a loud CLICK! From the lock.

“I’ll see you later” Your hand went from waving to at your side as your smile dropped and abruptly the warm room felt cold. Very cold.

But you weren’t going to see her later. Body paralyzed to the floor as the bullet wound in your stomach bled crimson all over the floor. As red as the Honeycrisp apples you ate on Wednesdays. An auburn-haired girl rushes past you following the footsteps of Nora. You were crashing and your body was failing you. Whimpers of pain escaped your lips as you held onto your stomach like you had a bad stomach ache, rolling onto your side as your vision became a nuisance and blurry mess. During your last few moments, you thought of Abby and her bright smile, all the plans she had for the two of you, and how you were finally happy that you got your happy ending, 

But at what cost?

You weren’t going to get to drink apple cider with her or hug her again, and that’s what destroyed you the most as a salted tear fell from your eye. Apple was placed on the table rotting from the inside out, With Abby’s knife poked into its core. Death has met its match.

You were the apple of her eye, and you were destroyed and eaten whole indefinitely. 

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @rarestdoll @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @ariianelle @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @imamybubbles @mikasbby @trulygnomed

© cowgirlcherrie

[haleswallows]

A wee gift for @little-dreams-of-life based on a prompt from the HxH server. Thank you for the inspiration <3

Timothy Drake is home alone. The Drake Manor is big and quiet around him. He fills it with noise.

This isn’t new or exciting. Tim is home alone a lot. What is new is the crate a FedEx employee insisted on carrying inside when Tim answered the door. The guy asks for an adult to sign for the package, but Tim just stares at him. Tim signs for the thing.

There’s a worried glance tossed in his direction as the courier leaves. But Tim shrugs it off like all the others and closes the door, then does up the locks and security system like he was shown.

Tim is home alone and he goes back to his homework without a second thought to the crate. He fills the quiet house with his own noise. When he needs a break, he skateboards down the hallways. The skate park is better, and Tim thinks about checking the weather report to see if it’ll be nice enough to go after school tomorrow.

Tonight is supposed to be clear. Probably a good night for birdwatching.

He pauses at the top of the stairs, one foot on the floor and the other on the deck, idly kicking it forwards and back. There’s a school field trip soon. Tim won’t be going – there’s no one home to sign his permission slip. If anything, he realizes, it’d be a great day to spend at the park. Even though he really wants to go on the field trip too. There’s nothing to be done about it. He resolves to make the day as good as it can be despite the loneliness that sits like gargoyle on his chest.

The crate sits innocently in the Entrance Hall. Tim peers down at it from the top of the stairs. He purposefully lets his DCs slap loudly on the hardwood of the steps as he gallops down.

There’s no note on the outside. Tim crouches down to look it over, but most of the markings are just shipping labels like “FRAGILE” and “THIS WAY UP – DO NOT TURN”. He doesn’t recognize the consignor address. Last he knew, Jack and Janet Drake were in Cambodia and the crate is from Ireland. But he is familiar with his mother’s handwriting on the Customs manifest in the outside pouch, so at least he can assume it hasn’t been shipped to Drake Manor as a type of postal assault.

The top is nailed down and Tim thinks of the hammer in the groundskeeper’s shed. It takes him only moments to find, but takes almost an hour to prise it open. He’s sweating and annoyed when he finally slides the top off.

Anti-climatically, he’s greeted with packing peanuts. 

Rooting around in the offending Styrofoam unearths a folded note – also written in his mother’s hand. The note is definitely not addressed to Tim, so he sets it aside then continues digging. Tim slowly unearths his parents’ newest relic collectibles, like his very own archeological dig. It’s all the same-old-same-old, old stuff and whatever his parents think is worthy of purchasing. Ceremonial relics, cultural artifacts, ceramic vases and bowls and small votives. There’s one odd wood carving that looks like something he’d have to make in art class.

Nestled in the bottom of a crate is a small wooden box, polished to a gleaming deep brown. The brass hardware stands out against the dark burnish. Tim turns it over in his hands and admires it, appreciating the way it fits neatly in his palm. It’s quite high quality, even Tim can see that. But of course, the box is only an accessory to its contents. There was a fleeting consideration to shake it, but Tim stamped down on the urge. Afterall, whatever was inside was an antique, if not ancient.

Tim puzzles over the small metal figurine inside. The purple velvet lining makes the pewter look like silver. But Tim has no clue what the shape is or what it represents. He squints at it in the waning afternoon light of the hall. The pronged circle attached to a wide rectangle vaguely resembles an ancient depiction of a human, if humans had horns. Or maybe the circle is a torso and the prongs artistic rendition of limbs? The prong is flared, almost like it has a crown.

There's a leather throng looped through the head. Tim thinks it's ugly and wonders what type of person would wear it. Sometimes Mother wore the ancient jewelry they collected, but this wasn't to her usual taste. Thus there must be something culturally important about it.

A mystery. Tim likes those. He likes solving things, he likes worrying his mind over pieces that don't fit until they do. Afterall, it's how he figured out Batman’s and both Robins’ identities and started birdwatching.

He pushes to his feet and jogs up the stairs. The computer in his dad's office has an internet connection. No one ever notices Tim using it. The housekeeper won't be around until tomorrow when he's at school. She won't suspect a thing as long as he turns it off and doesn't make a mess.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Tim trips over his abandoned skateboard. In the moment between losing his balance and hitting the ground, Tim thinks “oh crap” and prepares mentally for impact. Tim is no stranger to the fickle ways of gravity. You don't learn to skateboard without becoming the proud owner of scars and bruises. Tim automatically outstretches his hands to catch his fall

The strange pendant, still clutched in his hand, catches the soft meaty flesh of his palm. Tim hisses in pain, knee smarting. Gathers himself to sit cross legged and kicks the skateboard, annoyed at himself. He carefully uncurls his fingers, then gulps at the large gash on his hand. 

Oh god, Tim thinks while blinking at the deep cut. That definitely needs stitches. Oh shit, who can he call to get stitches? Who can take him? Tim glances around himself as if expecting someone to appear, to come running at the sound of his fall, to coo over his cut. 

A cold feeling fills his belly. Stupid. Tim knows there's no one there to help. But still he looked. Stupid.

Blood drips onto his jeans. He needs to get up, find a first aid kit. Skating is going to suck like this. He blinks back tears.

The light in the hallways shifts, darkens. It's getting late. He really needs to get up. With a sigh, Tim scolds himself then pushes to his feet, hurt hand cradled to his chest. But as he stands, the light continues to ebb away, darkness swirling around him. Tim freezes. The air pressure shifts and Tim shivers in the sudden chill.

“I am Fright Knight, Lord of Fear and the Spirit of All Hallows's Eve. Who dares summon me?” a voice rumbles, echoes, rings through the hallways, deep and haughty. Tim whirls towards it, hands halfway to covering his ears.

And nearly trips again on his skateboard. A man in a pure black suit of armor, glowing a menacing green, floats half a foot over the ground. Tim can't see the man's face as he towers over him, but the green glowing eyes bore into him.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” Tim snaps. Ok, dumb move probably. But what else is Tim going to do? He's twelve and home alone.

The suit of armor tilts its head. Oh right, duh, Tim. It answered that.

“Right, Fright Knight, summoned. Was it this?” He shows the knight his hand and thoroughly bloodied pendant. They both stare at his hand. A quiet plip-plip of blood dripping onto the floor accentuates the quiet.

“Where are your guardians?”

“Not home.” Tim isn’t an idiot. He knows better than to tell people his parents are out of the country. Or that he’s home alone.

“When will they return home?”

Tim stares at the floating suit of armor for a long time. There’s an impression it is squinting at him. He shrugs.

Plip-plip goes his hand.

(Remainder of the fic on ao3!)

[pure-electric]

~an introduction to ecobricking~

hello fellow solarpunks! i've been interested in ecobricking for a while but i recently invested some time into researching them so here's a guide! it's a responsible way to sequester plastic from the environment, but making them is slightly more involved than just stuffing plastic in a bottle, if you want to use them for construction or weight-bearing projects like furniture. I'm mainly using information from GoBrik, which had the most comprehensive guide, but feel free to comment or rb with supplemental information.

FAQ:

Isn't it better to recycle plastic rather than ecobricking?

There are many plastics, such as food wrappers or packaging, that can't be recycled and end up degrading rapidly. Ecobricking sequesters those kinds of plastics from the ecosystem and also reduces the surface area exposed, which limits plastic degredation over time.

How do you use ecobricks?

You can use ecobricks in many applications, from furniture to structures. The long-term environmental impact of using ecobricks is still speculated on, but responsible upkeep mitigates their potential environmental impacts, which are still far less than the impact that plastic would have were it not sequestered.

How To Ecobrick:

Find a plastic bottle. The bottles that you use for ecobricking should all be the same variety, which will help in any building projects that you may choose to use them for.

Find some plastic! Make sure to wash and dry your plastic, as any food residue or moisture could make your brick moldy or structurally unsound. You can cut up larger pieces of plastic, like food packaging (think bags of shredded cheese or frozen berries, or the plastic bags inside cereal boxes)-- just pack em in. If you want to be fancy, GoBrik recommends making the bottom layer of your ecobrick all one color, for aesthetic purposes later on. But it's really up to you. Please avoid putting biodegradable material, such as cardboard or paper, as well as glass or metal, in your ecobrick-- it'll affect the density and preferred composition. Plus, you can recycle those!

Calculate the density! This is the only part that involves math, I swear. You want to aim for a density of about 0.37 grams per milliliter; it shouldn't be under 0.33 g/ml or it'll be structurally unsound. It's also good to aim for a density less than 0.7 g/ml, or your bricks might be too heavy to move comfortably. The equation is just the weight in grams divided by the milliliters of the container you're using, so, for example, if you used a bottle than was 1250 ml, you would be aiming for about 475-500 g of plastic (including the bottle). (a kitchen scale is great for weighing, and you can thrift them pretty easily) Of course, if you're ecobricking to sequester plastic and not necessarily to build, you don't need to worry too much about the density, but if you wanted to donate your ecobricks to a project in the future I would encourage you to try to keep track of density.

Cap your bottle tightly, leaving 1-2 cm at the top of the bottle (basically, you don't want the cap to bulge, because it will make the cap degrade rapidly and crack). Label them with the density of the bottle (if it's relevant) and the date (so you know how long the brick has been around so you can maintain it if needed)-- nail polish works the best. Keep them out of the elements (especially the sun) and off the ground until you plan to use them.

There are tons of ways to use ecobricks! I'll link a few ideas below.

https://ecobricks.org/en/build.php

https://ecobricks.org/en/modules.php

anways, happy bricking! i'll post a picture of my finished ecobrick when it's done (hopefully not soon!)

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecobricks

https://ecobricks.org/en/how.php

[machveil]

Collective Writings - MachVeil

Collective Writings Pt 1, Pt 2

thank you all for the support! this post will contain all my fics, blurbs, and mini comics<3 the collection will update as I post and can be viewed from my pinned post here🎀✨ for fics 18+ please read content warnings (CW) - you come first! check the fic before you read it

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley is a hater - reblog + blurb Simon Riley having cuteness aggression - blurb

Simon Riley - shadow boxing/play wrestling/gentle movements - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley being a menace - headcanon

Retired!TF141 owning dogs - blurb

Simon Riley - coloring his tattoos - Instagram link

Cerberus!Ghost - mini comic

Roommate!Simon Riley - tailing you/light sleeper/laundry/cash - headcanon

Dad!Simon Riley - plays/volunteers/helps/teary eyed - headcanon

Roommate!Simon Riley becomes your purse - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley - hobbies/safety/swaps shoes/trusts his team - headcanon

PlantDad!Simon Riley - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley - Pinterest/‘Missus’/tattoo/dog tags - headcanon

BestFriend!Simon Riley - looming/drapes his jacket/stares/sleeps over - headcanon

Simon Riley is just a guy - reblog + blurb

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a beer snob - blurb

CoD Headcanon: Parallel Play - headcanon

Husband!Simon Riley - chapstick/nail polish/go-to order - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley and Roommate!Johnny are a package deal - headcanon

Simon Riley listens to Chapelle Roan - reblog + hashtags

Simon Riley goes shopping with you - headcanon

Write for Simon Riley - mini comic

Simon Riley is low-key a brat - headcanon

Simon Riley plays Minecraft - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley is just a guy - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a man of action - fic

(18+, mdni) Simon Riley has reading glasses - fic, fluff, nsfw below the cut

Simon Riley can cook - headcanon

TF141 swimming - headcanon

Retired!Simon Riley - opens a butcher/works with Price/works with the local smithy - headcanon

Retired!Simon Riley - popular butcher/talks to locals/works with Retired!TF141 - headcanon

Domestic!Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanons - headcanon

Simon Riley x Nerd!Reader - headcanon

Dancing in the Rain - headcanon

Kiss it Better - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley - civvies/suits/ties/flowers - headcanon

Simon “Ghost” Riley - birth year and age - headcanon

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Soap ate dirt as a kid - blurb

Soap gives bear hugs - blurb

Retired!TF141 owning dogs - blurb

Johnny will drink black coffee - headcanon

Johnny not being picky about food - headcanon

Roommate!Johnny - headlocks/shopping/steals your clothes/scents - headcanon

Soulmate!Johnny - headcanon

Johnny is a mutt - blurb

CoD Headcanon: Parallel Play - headcanon

Boyfriend!Simon Riley and Roommate!Johnny are a package deal - headcanon

Johnny plays The Sims - headcanon

TF141 swimming - headcanon

Kiss it Better - headcanon

König:

König daily sketch - mini comic König gives bear hugs - blurb

CatDad!König propaganda - headcanon

CatDad!König propaganda - if his cat brought back a rat - blurb

CatDad!König - mini comic

König being too tall - blurb

Monster!König fluff - fic

Door frame - blurb

Monster!König being domestic - headcanon

General König Headcanons - personal thoughts - headcanon

Roommate!König - complains/hoodies/sleep/cuddles - headcanon

Monster!König and lethargic period symptoms - headcanon + reblogged with Monster!König and general lethargy

Boyfriend!König loves your puppy - headcanon

Neighbor!König pt 1 - headcanon

König handstand - blurb

König is a hot chocolate snob - blurb

Loser!König info-dumps - reblog + blurb

Neighbor!König pt 2 - fic

Roommate!König - in your room/parallel play/hangs out/alone - headcanon

König is a beer snob - blurb

Neighbor!König - not canon/sees another man - headcanon

König orange peel theory - blurb

Loser!König is just König - headcanon

Retired!König and König, motorcycle/jeep - headcanon

Neighbor!König Headcanons - headcanon

König snacks on bananas - headcanon

FallenAngel!König - headcanon

König and his family’s height - headcanon

König plays Animal Crossing: New Horizons - headcanon

SecretAdmirer!König - headcanon

König wants you to feel special - reblog + blurb

Roommate!König - tails you/laundry/stares/rent - headcanon

Monster!König x M!Reader fluff - fic

(18+, mdni) Loser!König crushing on you - fic

Loser!König aftermath (cont.) - blurb

Dancing in the Rain - headcanon

Artsy!König - headcanon

König and his siblings - reblog + blurb

Kiss it Better - headcanon

Sebastian Krueger:

FallenAngel!Krueger - headcanon

General Thoughts about Sebastian Krueger - headcanon

Kiss it Better - headcanon

18+ Fics:

(18+, mdni) Simon Riley has reading glasses - fic, fluff, nsfw below the cut

(18+, mdni) Loser!König crushing on you - fic

Fic Recommendations:

(18+, mdni) König fics - fluff, nsfw below the cut

(18+, mdni) Simon “Ghost” Riley fics - fluff, nsfw below the cut

thanks again to followers and friends for keeping up with my writing! CoD requests are always welcomed, please review this post before requesting🎀✨ giving you guys a big, fat kiss for being wonderful and I hope to see you around - either in my inbox or notifications<3 CoD themed dividers are free to use curtesy of @gild-ui, please give them some love

[wanderingsimsfinds]

WanderingSims Fave CC - Bathroom List Pt. 2

1 - stylistsims - Donation Tokyo Bathtub

2 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 The Sims 4 Parenthood Xtreme Shower Tub

3-5 - ArtVitalex - Vitner Cupboard Short, Cupboard High, Shelf (TSR)

6-12 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Wabi-Sabi Bathroom (AESOP Amazing Face Cleanser, Geranium Leaf Body Cleanser, Oral Care Kit, Primrose Facial Cleansing Masque, Shampoo & Soap, Shaving Kit, AESOP Stuff)

13-14 - Mari - ms91 Cocoa Butter RC June 2016 & OBP June 2016 Beauty Creams Package Design

15-16 - Kittypixelz - 4t3 Mechtasims Essential Clutter Conditioner & Shampoo

17-19 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Slox Kopo Apato Set Beauty Product 1-3

20-21 - Onyx - Excelsior Towel & Towel Holder Free Standing (TSR)

22, 24, 27 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 PsychicPeanutKitty November Bathroom Clutter (Hand Soap & Lotion, Toilet Paper, Small Towels)

23, 25-26, 28-32 - SugarSSims - 4t3 CWB Dress Up Moment (Cat Ear Desk Mirror, Nail Polish Stand, Lipsticks in a Heart Box, Eye Shadow Collection, Fake Eyelashes, Kitty Blusher Stick, Cosmetics Clutter, Brush Holder)

33 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 KerriganHouseDesigns Slate Set Towels

34 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Too Faced Set (You're So Jelly Highlighter, Mr. Brushes, Better Than Sex Falsie Lashes, Shadow Highlight Palette)

35 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Kawaii Stuff II Cosmetics Set (Apeach Body Lotion, Baby Face BB Cream, Balm, Body & Lip Creams, Cactus Oil Free Cream, Cat's Purrfect Cream, Hand Cream, Ice Cream Nail Polish, Lifting Cream, Mist, Moisturizing Emulsion & Oil, Peeling Gel, Pimple Stickers)

36 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Kawaii Stuff II Extras (Acne Patches, Cat's Cleaner, CatChu Wink Lipstick, Cleansing Cream-Foam-Lotion, Deep Cream, Makeup Remover, Masks, Panda Cream, Panda's Dream Brightening Eye Base, Pocket Bunny Sleek Mist V2, Saturday Skin, Strawberry Milk Body Lotion, Whale Moisture Boost, Witch Piggy Pore Control)

37 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Beauty Blender Washing Machine

38 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Lycka Bathroom Shelf

39 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Skincare Beauty Fridge Closed

[smithdavid6]

"The Ultimate Guide to Preserving Hair Extensions with Personalized Boxes"

Looking for eye-catching Hair Extension Boxes to show the elegance of packed products. We offer high-quality, wonderful custom packaging boxes to capture customers' attention. Our beautiful personalized boxes reveal that your hair pieces are excellent in looks. They will enhance the overall appearance of wearers. Innovative designs and colorful themes display products to win customer's hearts. We apply logo designs and multiple embellishments to boost your business sales. Place an order now and get unlimited customization features.

[bnnuy-wabbit]

PIN TUTORIAL.

So. You want pins of your favorite band/cartoon/oc/funny thing to put on backpacks/jackets/pants BUT you're broke and/or have no means to Acquire Pins. You find yourself thinking must Man do i need to make these???? And the answer is yes. Sadly, one either needs to purchase items to have items or make items to have items. I know, i know. It's unfair. It'll be alright, though. Fear not, beloved internet user, for i have The Easy Solution to Your Problem. For thee. Let me hold your hand passionately.

What you'll need is:

Safety Pins - you can buy them for hella cheap in packages with Many Of Them. I'm probably not from your country so you'll have to look for them yourself online or in a store) Pair of Scissors - for cuttin' Plastic - Any kind as long as it's thick enough. reutilize something that would go to the trash, if you can. I'm using an old fanta bottle i stole from dad's pepper pot from the garden. you could also used those hard ish plastics from boxes too or packages. It doesn't have to be transparent, but that's recommended. Some sort of Glue - I recommend hot glue. I did not, however, have hot glue, so I used a two-part resin for fixing pipes instead. If it works it works. You can use anything as long as it secures the safety pin to the plastic. The Pin Content - I'm using STICKERS. i bought 200 6 months ago and have many left overs. You could also use a drawing you made or a cutout from a magazine and tape it to the plastic with transparent packaging tape.

That's all you need. However, if you'd like to make your life a bit easier, it'd be nice to have in hand:

tape - for tapin' razorblade - for scrapin' pen - for Penin'

See. easy. doesn't need a lot. I must say that since i'm a craftsperson i have More Materials laying about than the average arguably human population, but that's pretty much it.

tutorial with pictures continues under the read more. selfie under read more too with them on a cool jacket. here are the results so you know what you're getting into. Ooooo you want to make pins so bad oooooooo

TLDR: glue Pin Content onto the plastic, glue the safety pin to that next. Pic IDs added.

STEP 1.

Stick the thing you want to pin on the plastic. I'm using stickers, but you can use the non adhesive stuff. You can tape a piece of paper to the plastic with transparent duct tape. Just make sure to leave a margin on all sides.

STEP 2.

turn the plastic sheet around. Mark where the Up part of the sticker is and where you want the safety pins to go. This part is optional, but it helps making sure you're not going to put the pins in the wrong position. I didn't do it on my last batch and they turned out fine.

STEP 3.

Secure the plastic to your work surface using tape to keep it still while you work. Again, optional, but it'll help keep the thing straight if your plastic is bent like mine.

STEP 4.

Scratch the surface of the plastic so whatever gluing method you use actually works. The surface shouldn't be smooth or else it'll be hard to glue. You can use anything to scratch it. I did a criss cross pattern as shown in the picture.

STEP 5.

Glue the pins to the scratched surface.

In my case it was done in two steps since the resin needed time to dry. I made a hard base to secure the pin and waited for two hours for that to dry. Then i put a small layer of resin over the part of the safety pin that doesn't open and waited for it to dry again.

This would be miles easier if you used hot glue. Just hot glue the pin to the plastic, making sure to keep the movable part free.

STEP 6.

Cut the pins! If you taped them to the plastic instead of using premade stickers then make sure to leave more plastic to the sides. so it doesn't fall off. They're done. You now have pins.

If you want to go above and beyond, you can cover the pin with a thin layer of clear nail polish to make it impermeable and more durable, but i'm all out of clear nail polish, so i didn't do it.

RESULTS PART 2.

That's it. That's all. Have fun!

[rosewaterandivy]

c'mon barbie, let's go party

summary: steve harrington learns to embrace his kenergy with a little help from his friends.

a/n: in honor of barbenheimer today, please enjoy steve's newfound kenergy in the kids aren't alright cinematic universe. that being said, you can absolutely read this as a stand alone too! i'm seeing barbie later tonight, so mentions of the plot are vague and culled from the teasers and trailers - any and all mistakes are my own! feel free to yell at me in about this in my ask box et al. i'm at the tattoo shop for the foreseeable future and need some enrichment in my enclosure. Reblogs, feedback, and likes are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

p.s. sneaky peak at eddie and his gf from my upcoming series notes on a scene 👀

steve had it all planned out - made the appointment himself and triple-checked that your schedule was clear for the day. circled it on the communal calendar in the kitchen double-feature: barbenheimer.

the group chat had been made aware and eddie's girlfriend, inexplicably known as princess, had taken it upon herself to buy tickets for the gang, therefore dictating the order in which the films would be seen (film teachers, am i right?). oppenheimer first, which steve would suffer through - historical films were always difficult for him to get through due to the anachronisms, and ending with the pièce de résistance: barbie.

you were swamped with grad school classes (having applied over the spring and started your courses this past summer) and steve wanted to treat you to something nice and relaxing. and a trip to the nail salon would have been just the thing, if not for eddie & princess crashing it.

luckily, you didn't seem to mind and were happily ensconced in your chair waiting on your nail tech. you'd brought your own color, because you're picky like that, and let steve, and then eddie and his girlfriend (out of necessity), sort through your collection too.

he'd settled on something called a midsummer's dream from that one brand you liked (there seemed to be a package from them every few weeks or so), thinking it would compliment your choice of arcade monster quite nicely; a little sweet and a little sour.

"manicure and pedicure?" the woman at the front desk had asked. steve clarified that the mani/pedi would be for the ladies, while eddie and himself would just get the pedicures. though the chipped black polish on ed's nails was becoming unsightly.

but despite doing so, steve somehow found himself moved from the pedi bath over to a nail table and seated right next to you. you looked up from your reading (Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall, steve's suggestion) and quirked a brow. "whatcha doin'?"

"sitting here, i guess."

you smirk, "sure thing, babe," and go back to your book.

so when a well-meaning woman grabs his hand and places it in a bowl of water while asking about his color choice, he doesn't know how to respond. he could've sworn he just said a pedicure for him and eds, but when he looks down the row and finds eddie in rapt conversation with his nail tech about god knows what as she removes his chipped black polish, he's no longer quite as sure.

"psst."

he looks over to you, seeing an ill-attempt to repress your laughter. "you don't have to get a polish if you don't want to." and it's sweet, you're sweet for thinking of him and his comfort when this was supposed to be all about you and yours.

steve shrugs, "might as well at this point," and hands her the bottle of pinky-blue iridescent polish.

you tuck your chin toward your chest with a grin, teeth flashing bright against the pink of your lips. "a very nice use of kenergy, steve. gosling would be proud."

💅💅💅

your nails flash green-gold in the sun, a nice contrast against the magenta base polish. you’re sipping from a s’mores milkshake from the ice cream parlor after the nail appointment, eddie having spied it a few stores down.

("it's too hot to argue, harrington," eddie groused, but not before grabbing steve's hands to examine his manicure. "dude, that color is sick on you!")

“s’nice color honey,” steve says, pausing to drink from the milkshake when you passed it over to him. the cool blend of chocolate and marshmallows with graham cracker chunks hits his tongue as you send a deilvish wink his way.

“thanks baby,” your tongue glides against the full of your bottom lip, collecting a bit of chocolate. checking to see that eddie and princess are out of earshot, you pull him in by the belt loops.

“think they’ll look as nice wrapped around your cock later?” you rasp, voice dropping to a low whisper.

steve shudders at the husky sound of your voice and nearly chokes on the milkshake in response, flustered and blushing. your laughter rings out in the afternoon heat, as bright as the sun shining above.

you kiss him for good measure, lips cool and sweet, before catching up to eddie and his girlfriend a few paces ahead. and all steve can do is watch after you, struck dumb by his girl with her quick tongue and wicked words.

he gets it later that evening seeing barbie when they say: “she’s barbie, and he’s just ken.”

you did not tell a lie when you said to princess all those months ago, that ken would end up being steve’s ‘literally me’ character. truthfully, he’s just glad to end up with his dreamgirl.

and yeah, your nails looked just as pretty later that night. as did his when you fell apart on his fingers. a flash of blue in the dim light when his hands dug into the soft flesh of your hips— you coming with a ragged cry on his cock, face buried against the pillows of your bed.

steve may be “just ken” but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. not when he’s got a barbie like you.

[justplainwhump]

Shoes

Felt inspired by the prompt by @worldofwhumpcraft I reblogged earlier - obviously, the part about shoes, mostly. I don't even know what this scribble is, or where in canon it would happen (rather early), but have it anyway. Just consider it a bonus scene.

[Pet Safety]

Bea gets her first shoes.

Content / Warning: BBU, BBU recovery, caretaker is new owner.

While handing Adrian the two huge packages from his hand truck, the doorman tried to look past Adrian’s shoulder into the apartment. Adrian raised an eyebrow and leaned to the doorframe instead, his broad shoulders blocking the man’s view - and maybe, probably also intimidating him the slightest bit. Adrian was big. It was only appropriate to use it sometimes. 

He signed off on the tablet the man was holding out to him.

"Anything of interest to you in my apartment?", he asked coolly, handing back the pen.

"I’m sorry, Sir, uhm, I…"

Adrian tilted his head. "Yes?"

"The… the pretty, uh, the…, she’s not actually a woman, right? I mean she is, but, like, do you still call it that, when they’re, you know…?"

"Her name’s Bea," Adrian said. "She is a woman."

"Is, she… there?"

"I got insurance for her, if that’s what you want to ask."

"No, I… I know that, it’s in the files, uh, yeah, thank you for providing it. I just… I’ve never seen one."

"A woman?" Adrian folded his arms, making sure to emphasize the muscles on his upper arms. 

The doorman actually blushed. "A…"

"I don’t think I want you to see her," Adrian said. "I think I want you to apologize for that intrusion into her - and my - privacy, and I think you’ll need to do without a tip."

"It’s…" He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Sir, I didn’t want to invade your privacy, I… I just thought they, … I didn’t know you’d be that sensitive, I… I mean, don’t you work for WRU?"

Adrian closed the door into the man’s face.

"You know, Adrian Delgado," Bea said from where she lounged on the couch and paused painting her toenails. "You are allowed show me off. I don’t mind. I…" She paused, gestured at the eyepatch. "I know I have this, but I can still offer everything I am made for. I am - we all are made to be looked at, you know?"

"Made to," Adrian scoffed. "I fucking hate that phrase. How about, conditioned or, well actually, tor-"

Bea frowned.

Fuck. He worked for them. He worked for them, he was a good employee, a loyal employee, and he really should stop letting his guard down in front of someone who’d been made to - conditioned to never lie to WRU.

"I don’t like it," he said. "It’s disrespectful."

"Because I’m yours," she said solemnly and nodded. "Nobody should get to look at me, but you."

Adrian carried the first box into the living room. "Not that, either. Because I think you should get to decide who looks at you."

"That’s stupid," she said and closed the yellow nail polish, wiggling her toes at him. "I cannot decide things."

"You did decide on a color for your nail polish."

"It’s yellow," she said.

"Your favorite color," Adrian replied.

"It’s my favorite color because of how you smile when I say that it is." She smiled at him, in a way that made his heart ache. "I don’t decide things on my own. I decide things for your sake. But…" She winked. "I am pretty good at it, right?"

Was there a right answer? Was it right to tell her she was being good? Was it wrong? Was he enhancing her conditioning, using it, breaking it? Fuck. He was supposed to know these things. 

"You are," he said. "You’re good at making me happy. I feel like you’re getting better at making yourself happy, too." He got the second box and stacked it onto the first.

She looked at the boxes with a nervous frown.

"I got you something," he said.

Her eyes widened a little bit. Not in excitement, he realized. In fear. "Thank… thank you, Sir," she said, voice dropping into a sweet lilt. "I’ll be good."

"It’s… It’s nothing bad," he hurried to say. "It’s… not for me. Nothing to hurt you. It’s-" He should just show her. He leaned over to pull a box cutter from his desk drawer. 

Bea froze, staring at the blade. Her smile became soft and pliant. "You are free to hurt me, Sir," she said. He thought he could hear her hide a sob. "Do… do you want me to scream?"

"This is for the box," Adrian said. "The box." He cut open the packaging tape and threw the cutter back into the farthest corner of the desk, as far from Bea as possible. "You hear me? I don’t want to hurt you. Ever."

"It’s what I’m for," she whispered.

"Not anymore," Adrian said with clenched teeth. 

"Then what am I for?" She looked at him, with a tint of hurt in her eyes. "Not for you to hurt. Not for you to fuck. Not to serve you, not to seduce you, not to serve the man at the door or anyone else. What do you want me for, Sir?"

"Adrian," he corrected her, more harshly than intended. "I want you to be-" Free, he thought. Free. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t free her. Not yet. 

This was such a mess.

"Happy."

"Happy?," she asked with a frown, that smoothed away once she seemed to develop an idea. "Then let me sleep with y-"

Adrian cut her off roughly. "I want you to know you can move around. That you’re not… restricted." He reached into the cardboard box and pulled out one of the smaller boxes inside. "I got you shoes. I… I didn’t know your size, so I got a bunch of different sizes." He pulled away the paper and lifted a pair of yellow sneakers. 

She looked at him, confused, then at her feet. Then back at him. "Pets don’t need shoes."

He knew. At the facilities, most trainees walked on bare feet. At the homes of their owners, it varied. Guards had shoes, of course, standard were heavy boots, equipped to fight. Domestics usually received these ugly clogs that wouldn’t allow them to run but stand stable when they cleaned the floors. Platonics, depended on their tasks. But Romantics? Either nothing, or insanely high heels that emphasized long legs and sinuous movements.

"I think you might find them… comfortable," he said. "It’s a good brand, they’re very light-weighted, and they allow you to run, walk, dance, they’re suitable for anything."

"I can do everything you need me to without shoes." She looked at him cautiously. "Do you want me to run, Adrian Delgado?"

"No, I…" He shook his head. "No."

Bea traced thin scars on the side of her feet with a finger. "Jack wanted me to run, sometimes. A game. Let the pack chase me, then. But he-" She tilted her head and glanced at the sneaker in his hand, almost longingly. "He didn’t give me shoes."

He reached out to hand the shoe over, and she took it gently, ran her fingers over the fabric, weighed it in her hand. "I," she began. "I would like to be better at running."

"You will be," he said. "Shoes will help."

She furrowed her brows, as if trying to understand if he was teasing her, then nodded and slipped into the shoe. 

Wordlessly, Adrian knelt down in front of her, to check the size. She stayed perfectly still for him. Of course she would.

"Too big," he said and handed her another box. "Here, try these. I usually go for a run in the morning, before work, twice a week. Around the marina. You can come. Train with me."

She unpacked the other size. "Why?"

Adrian looked up at her. "Because if there ever comes a next time, when someone chases you," he said. "I want you to get away."

"What if it’s you?"

He felt her toes through the fabric, checked how firmly the shoe sat around her foot. This one fit more snugly. Good. He nodded to himself, only then realized he owed her a reply. "Always, yeah" he said eventually. "When you’re ready, Bea, run away. Don’t look back."

"You’re strange," she said.

Adrian smiled, and settled back on his heels. "You know, Bea. You’re the only one from whom this sounds like a compliment."

"You know, Adrian." She reached down to rest her hand against his cheek. Adrian’s heart threatened to skip a beat, when she met his gaze. "Yes. I think it is one."

-

--

pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

[wintervalewritersecond]

forgotten festivities - ajax petropolus

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open! hey so i did a request about Xavier forgetting the readers birthday… could you pretty please make that an Ajax fic instead like maybe it’s enids and hers birthday? and please do not mention Xavier at all in it, like just act like he never even existed bc percy makes me so uncomfortable now, thank you for hopefully understanding!

A/N: hii! i saw your requests for xavier before and i really wanted to write for it, but i was unsure on how to continue with writing xavier fics. though i would still love to write them now, i will try and remember to put it in the caption/warnings. for now, an ajax fic is coming your way! i hope you enjoy! :) it was kind of hard to really get to it, but i hope i did fine!

wordcount: 2.142 warnings: she/her pronouns, bad??? friends, ajax trying to make it up to you, ajax and reader crushing on each other but not dating yet, not proud of this :/

Ajax is a forgetful person. You knew that. Yet, it still hurts when you see him remember something else.

You wake up bright and early. Sure, others would say that waking up at eight in the morning is too early, especially for a Saturday, but you had lots of things that you were planning to do. You first had to get some breakfast in the Quad. Afterwards, you would go and meet up with Enid, both getting ready for your birthdays.

You loved sharing your birthday with your friend. Being the center of attention could often feel uncomfortable with you, so to share a day like this with someone else is something you actually quite enjoy.

You decide against taking your bag downstairs with you - its only for breakfast. The walk to the Quad is quite short, as your dorm is located quite close to it. With a small tray in your hands, you walk to a picnic table. None of your friends were here yet. Are they maybe preparing a surprise for you? You know that you aren’t too big on birthdays, but you would take every chance to hang out with your friends.

After another ten minutes, you still had not seen your friends. You had already eaten your sandwich and had finished your tea as well. Your phone was keeping you company as you patiently waited for anyone to show up. You hear a bit of commotion which pulls your attention away from the device in your hands.

On the other side of the Quad sit all your friends, smiles on their faces as they greet Enid with hugs. When did they get here? Had they not seen you waiting? You shake your head - they wouldn't forget. Right?

It is already getting a bit later than you expected, which meant it was time for you to go to your dorm and wait for Enid. You quickly discard of the tray before finding your way back to the dorm. Your outfit had been decided weeks ago already. It had claimed a spot in your closet, ready to be worn.

Your door flies open, revealing Enid with a small package in her hands.

"Y/N! Happy birthday!"

Her arms find their way around you as you let out a laugh, hugging your friend back. Enid pulls back, pushing the wrapped package in your hands.

"This is for me?"

You had gotten Enid a gift as well, but you had not expected anything in return. But, at the same time, it's Enid. She even gives out gifts if it's not a birthday. You open up the neatly wrapped package, revealing a crocheted... thing.

"No way!" You gasp, revealing the item. "A snood?! And in my favorite colors?"

Enid proudly nods, happy that her hard work was worth it. You place the snood on your bed before kneeling down on the floor. Enid is not the only one with a gift. You take out the pink box, standing back up before handing it to the blonde with a big smile.

"Happy birthday, Enid!"

She gasps, taking the box from you before lifting up the top.

"You. Did. Not!"

The box contained every single glittery nail polish that you could find online. Different shades and colors would surely fit every single outfit Enid could ever wear. An excited shriek leaves her lips as she pulls you close yet again.

"I am definitely wearing at least one of these tonight!"

-

You and Enid had spent hours in your room already, listening to music while getting ready. Enid has small rhinestones stuck on her face, shimmering in the light. You had finally put on the outfit that you have been wanting to wear for the longest time already. Enid had tested out some nail polish on you, finally deciding on what color would go best with her own outfit.

Lunch had passed a while ago as it was already almost time for dinner. You still had no idea what was planned. You had not checked your phone for the last hour, mainly because you were getting ready, but also because you had not received any messages yet. Your parents had wished you a Happy Birthday, but none of your Nevermore friends had said anything yet. Maybe they were planning a surprise party? It is best to just stay positive, right?

"Oh my gosh," Enid whispers, tapping away on her phone. "I have to go!"

"What is it?" You ask her, eyebrows frowning. She sounds worried.

"Apparently there is a problem with Wednesday," she quickly stuffs her phone in her pocket. "I will be back as soon as I can! I promise."

"No worries! Go help her! Call me if you need me, okay?"

"Will do!"

The girl disappears behind the heavy door, leaving you by yourself yet again. Your phone still had no new notifications. Maybe it might really just all be a big surprise. You glance at the mirror. You hoped that this outfit was worth it - maybe Ajax will even notice you tonight.

-

Enid ran down the halls and to the Poe statue, snapping her fingers twice to open the rumbling door. She had not been with the Nightshades for that long, but at least she finally got in after everything went down with Crackstone. The girl impatiently stands in front of the statue, slipping through before running down the stairs.

"Wednesday?! Wednesday!"

The room is dark, though warmer than it usually is. Enid slowly walks into the room, cautious of whatever could happen.

"Happy birthday!"

The lights flicker on, revealing the entire Nightshade group with party hats on. Enid lets out a shriek, almost falling back against the wall as she clutches her chest.

"God, you guys! This was almost my last birthday with this heart attack you gave me," she laughs, standing back up straight.

The Nightshade library is filled with balloons and colorful birthday flags. There is even a cake in the middle of the table, the candles being lit by Bianca.

'Happy birthday, Enid!'

The cake is red velvet, her favorite. The frosting is white and the lettering seems to be written on with dark chocolate. Enid gasps, kneeling down at the cake as Bianca steps back, the candles now lit. Her friends start singing happy birthday Enid only smiles brightly, blowing out the candles as everyone sings the last word.

Wednesday uses her sharpest knife to carefully cut pieces of cake, silently handing them out to everyone.

"My, my," Enid laughs. "Even Wednesday is wearing a party hat!"

She was. Bianca was nice enough to paint it black with some spare paint she had. She knew that Wednesday would kill her if she even so much as tried to put a pink hat on her.

"Not a word. These stupid hats were Ajax his idea."

The werewolf shrugs, taking a piece of the cake. It is the piece with her name on it. Everyone sits down, engaged in some conversation as Enid slowly takes a bite. She has been here for fifteen minutes already, though she has not seen one sign of a gift for you. Every gift had 'Enid' written on it and was wrapped in her favorite color, not yours. She quietly places the fork back on the plate, her appetite slowly fading away.

Everyone seems to be having fun and time goes faster than Enid had thought. Before she knew it, it was already 8:37pm, around an hour after she had left in a hurry.

"I love your nail polish!" Ajax lets himself fall on the chair next to Enid. "Very you."

"Oh!" She smiles. "Thank you! I eh, I got it from Y/N."

"Speaking of Y/N," Ajax sits a bit straighter. "Where is she? I am pretty sure I invited her as well. At least, I sent her a text message not that long ago."

He shows his phone as he indeed sent a message half an hour ago.

ajaxxx

hey! enid's party just started, want some cake?

are you sleeping?

i'll save you a piece! :)

Enid slowly looks up from the phone, staring Ajax straight in the eyes.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"About what?"

The room slowly gets a bit quieter as everyone notices Enid's conversation with Ajax. The werewolf slowly pushes the phone towards him, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Guys, where is all Y/N's stuff?"

"Y/N's stuff? What are you talking about?"

"Ajax!" She almost hisses, throwing her hands up in the air. "The party hats are all my favorite colors, every gift in this room was for me, even the cake only had my name on it!"

"It's your birthday," Wednesday comments. "Ajax invited us here for you. I would have been surprised if the cake was black and had a Grim Reaper on it."

Enid looks at the Gorgon who now looks a bit nervous. Did Enid not like the party? He had worked together with Bianca and Davina to try and make it as fun as possible.

"You don't like it?"

Kent looks from the half-eaten cake to you. He actually enjoyed it quite a bit.

"Did you guys really forget? It's not all about me today!" She jumps up. "Are you guys serious? It's Y/N!"

Everyone stays quiet. What do you mean, 'it's Y/N'? They all had been called here for Enid, not for you. Enid groans when she has no reaction, pacing around the room.

"Come on, guys! It's our birthday, not just mine!"

"Shit," Ajax exclaims, immediately standing up.

How did he forget? Shit, shit, shit. He is the worst friend in the world. How had he forgotten the birthday of his long-time crush? How did the entire group forget?

Before anyone else can react, he hurries out of the library, sprinting toward the direction of your dorms. No way. There should be no way that he had forgotten your birthday. He knocks on your door, out of breath from the running. It stays quiet, though he can hear some sniffles.

"Y/N? It's Ajax. Can I come in?"

You don't want him to. Your hair is a mess and your makeup has started running down your face. Half of your accessories had already been pulled off, scattered throughout your room. You had waited all day. All day for someone to even acknowledge that it was your birthday. Enid seemed to be the only one who remembered. All your suspicions were confirmed when you got those texts.

"Please?"

The door slightly opens as Ajax steps in. The room is dark, only the light in the corner is turned on. You sit on the floor with your back against the bed, staring at your hands. Ajax slowly gets a bit closer to you, sitting next to you, though still keeping a bit of distance.

"Are you okay?"

You slowly turn your head to face him, black streaks of mascara running down your face. Dumb question.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I- There is no excuse. I'm a shit friend."

"You're not a shit friend," you mumble, wiping your nose. "The thing for Enid is kinda cool."

"I am a shit friend," Ajax insists, throwing his hands up. "I didn't include you in the party! Instead, I just messaged you asking where you were."

It's not like he didn't have a gift for you. He has actually had it for a few weeks now, though he has been second-guessing himself. What f you hated it, or what if you thought it was weird?

"I never really like being the center of attention," you softly admit. "I just... I wanted to hang out with my friends. With you."

Ajax shakily breathes out before pulling the tiny box out of his pocket. He places it in between you and him, softly pushing it a bit closer to you.

"Got you a gift," he nervously says. "It's okay if you don't like it. I just- I thought it would fit you really well."

You wipe your nose again before slowly picking up the box. You lift up the tiny lid to reveal a necklace. On it is one pendant - a silver snake. You let out a soft laugh, running your fingers over the pendant.

"I love it, actually," you smile, looking at the Gorgon.

A small snake finds its way out of the beanie, though you are too busy looking straight into Ajax his eyes. They are beautiful. They feel warm and comforting.

"I want to make it up to you," he then says. "I will take you to the Weathervane and I will buy your favorite drink, and then we can go to that new little restaurant you wanted to try out?"

"Like a... date?"

Please let it be one.

"I uh, I mean," Ajax stammers. "Y-yeah! Well, unless you don't want to. But, yeah! A date! Or, or just friends. Like friends."

"It's a date."

[theinkedknight]

Rose Quartz

Based off this post by @cryptotheism that I saw on FB

I sat behind the counter, looking up at the twin sets of flat screens perched over the high shelves carrying boxes of cereal and multipacks of toilet paper. On the left screen, a multiple panel view of the various security cameras set up all around the bodega, the right screen a rerun of Judge Judy. I was mostly paying attention to the right one.

At the table set along the window to the outside sat an older Puerto Rican man, his straw triby on the table next to him, brushing something I couldn't see off the tank top he wore under his unbuttoned bowling shirt.

“Listen, I'm telling you. New yor-wiccan.” He said, drawing out the word.

“Shut up Danny.” Called out the older woman behind the deli counter as she worked the grill.

“What? It's good! I can see it on the shirts.” He retorted.

“You're not even wiccan.” I said, shaking my head.

“So what? You think everyone selling gold crosses is a Christian?”

The door alarm dinged as a pair of young people entered. I could smell the tourist on them. Spend enough time behind a counter in Manhattan and you'd be able to as well. It's the wide eyed gaze and almost deer-like quiver.

They start to roam what amounts to aisles in the cramped store. Next to the cup soups, various small packages of laundry soap, and ice salt stood Catholic candles of various colors and saints, icons from a dozen various idols from the faiths of the people who lived or worked in the neighborhood, and bins of assorted crystals. Through the windows and on the cameras I could see the piles of garlic, oranges, apples, and bundled dried herbs for sale under the shop’s awning.

“He has a point, Flora.” I say, eyes returning to the court show.

“You're so full of shit, Danny,” she replied with a tone that sounded like this was a basic fact of reality.

The two tourists came up to the front counter, either sisters or very, very close friends. Their auras looked as though they were the same, or else rhyming so closely it was hard to tell the difference.

“Do you…um…do you sell rose quartz?” The slightly taller one asked.I continued watching Judy for a beat, as it was about to go to commercial anyway, before looked down at the two.

“Flora, we got rose quartz?” I called over to the grill. A black cat walked around from the corner and wove herself around their legs before jumping up to the table next to Danny’s hat. Flora walked around the counter with an aluminum tray filled to the brim with boiled yucca, pickled red onions, grilled sausage, and fried eggs. She put the tray next to Danny, his hat, and the cat, pulling a fork and small bottle of hot sauce from her apron and all but dropping both on the table with them.

“Yeah, no. Fresh out, remember that little bracelet brujita always buys me out. The one with the green hair. Plant name.”

“Aspen.” I supplied.

“Yes, her.” She looked the two women up and down. “What you need if for? You looking for someone?” Their cheeks reddening was all the older witch needed to hear.

She walked behind one aisle, muttering to herself in Spanish. When she returned, she held a pair of pink candles in an unmarked glass cylinder and two cans of soup.

“Damien, get them two vials of rose water.” She told me. She continued speaking to the girls as I turned my back to search the wall of incense, oils, single dose packs of Advil, condoms, and “nail polish remover” behind the counter. “What you wanna do is anoint yourself and the candle and burn it next to your bed at night.”

The taller one nodded as if taking mental notes. “And the soup?”

“Cook it for him. Men love soup.” Flora said as if speaking to an idiot.

As her friend/sister was turning redder still, the shorter one was looking at Danny eating his breakfast.

“Isn't it, like, unhygienic to have a cat in a place serving food like that?” She asked, genuine concern in her voice.

“I'm cleaner than you are, Princess Midwest.” The cat replied, looking up at her with emerald green eyes. “This one needs some Florida water too, Damien. Her aura is a little…much.”

I tried to keep the smirk from my face as she jumped.

“Hannah, I told you if you're going to talk to customers, you need to be a person.” Flora admonished. The cat sighed, jumping from the table to the other chair. Between one blink and the other, the cat was gone and a pale skinned woman in a black dress replaced her. For a moment she still had feline eyes, before blinking and her human form completing.

“Anyway, spritz it on yourself after you shower. If you're good, you'll clear that…” Hannah made a general hand gesture to encompass what must be the woman's aura. “...in about a week.”

They both stepped up to the counter, wide eyed and more than a touch shaken. “So, would that be all together or separate?” I asked, trying to calm them with a gentle smile.

They indicted together and made to pay, pulling out a crystal bedazzled iPhone to tap on the terminal. I wrapped the candles in yesterday's Daily News and put everything into an ‘I HEART NY’ bag. As quickly as they could without running, they were out of the store again.

“I would buy that shirt.” Hannah said, reaching over and stealing a slice of meat from Danny's plate, who moved to slap her hand but was too slow.

“See! And she is wiccan. I am smart.” Danny proclaimed.

“Full of shit.” Flora replied, shaking her head and returning to the deli counter.