#puts them in your hands like a cool bug

[weatheredcopper]

a gempearl doodle for u 🤲

[lizardho]

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[daydreamgoddess14]

I'll do that thing 🔥

Bucky x f!Reader established but secret 🤫

It's too damn hot, the AC is broken, and your boyfriend is a furnace. But there are solutions.

Bucky Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

warnings: pussy slapping, Bucky's vibranium hand, fingering... just a bit of heatwave filth, really. Encouraged by the gif above, darling @sunday-bug ☀️ and my other feral beauties in the gc.

There was sweat in places you couldn't even begin to imagine.

It pooled in the small of your back, in the valley of your breasts, the crook of your elbow, the backs of your knees, behind your ear.

“Engineers said next week,” Bob huffed, flopping down on the floor. Even the marble tiles were hot to the touch.

“I'll be dead by next week,” Lena groaned.

“Think I'm dead now.” You sighed. You shifted an inch to the left, peeling your leg off the one next to you.

The leg moved an inch closer.

You moved another inch away.

When it went to move again, you slapped your palm down hard on their bare leg.

“Ow! Shit!”

“Buck, you're like a furnace. Stop putting your leg against me,” you whined.

“How is every engineer in City busy?” Alexei demanded. “I fix it!”

“No!” Half a dozen voices rang out in unison.

“I'll fix it,” Bucky announced, standing up.

For you, the relief was immediate.

“You?” Ava asked, highly skeptical.

“Me. Fixed Sam's boat. What's an AC unit gonna do?”

“Blow up?” You shrugged.

“Better come with me then, in case it explodes.”

“No way.”

“It'll be cooler in the basement?”

“Deal.”

Across the room, John nudged Ava and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Have fun!”

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!”

“In this heat?” Lena grimaced. “Disgusting.”

“Fuck you, Walker!” You gave him the middle finger as you followed Bucky out of the room and into the elevator.

“You've gotta stop touching me in front of them,” you said as soon as the doors were closed. “They're gonna know.”

“They already do, babe.” He shrugged.

The basement was cooler, barely.

You found the hopeless AC unit wheezing and whirring. Bucky looked around it, his eyebrows pinched together.

Whatever this was, it hadn't been going on for long. Weeks and months of tense sparring sessions, flirty comments, and open ogling had culminated in him turning up at your door one night and barely putting you down since.

You hopped up to sit on a crate while he ‘worked’. In reality, it was a chance to ogle.

“Can feel you watching me, sweetheart. Something you need?”

“In this heat? Come near me and I'll bite you.”

“Promise?” As he turned to ask the question, he yanked a hose out of the unit.

With a violent hiss, a plume of freezing mist streamed out. “Oh. Shit.” He turned back to the unit.

“Want me to hold anything?” You peered around the unit. While you were distracted, he placed his left palm on the back of your neck.

The vibranium was ice cold against your hot, sticky skin. “Ohh fuck -” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He stepped behind you, replacing his hand with his mouth. His hand, still cold, pulled the neck of your cami down and pinched your quickly pebbling nipple.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, giving him a perfect view down your body. Your back arched into his touch.

“Still too hot?” He murmured against your neck.

“Mmm, why? You gonna cool me down?”

“Gonna try,” he removed his hand, warmed by your skin, and put it back in the path of the freezing steam.

“S'too hot, Buck,” you insisted, moving out of his hold. Your body was on fire.

“C'mon, I'll do that thing?” He held you tighter, his voice pleading. “Need to touch you, baby.”

The fog hissed, curling around his wrist.

He dragged the cold vibranium fingers back along your collarbone, then lower, tracing the swell of your breast until you gasped. The contrast made your skin pebble under his touch - hot and flushed, meeting ice cold metal.

“That better?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

You didn’t answer. Not with words, just a low, breathy moan.

He circled your nipple with the very tips of his fingers, letting the cold settle in, sharp enough to make you shiver - then cupped your breast in full. A soft whimper escaped you, hips twitching as heat pooled low in your belly.

“Still too warm,” he said, almost to himself.

His hand slipped lower. Past your stomach. Down between your thighs.

The first brush of cold fingers against your slick heat made your whole body jolt.

“Fuck,” you hissed, breath catching.

“That’s it,” he murmured, dragging the metal through your folds again - slower this time, letting you feel the contrast between hot and cold.

Then - a sharp, deliberate slap.

It wasn’t hard, just sudden - a stinging smack of cold against the wet heat of your pussy, and your hips bucked instinctively, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

“Jesus,” you gasped, “do that again.”

He chuckled low in your ear. “Told you.”

Another slap, a little firmer this time. The sound of it, sharp and obscene, sent a shockwave straight through your gut. Then his fingers were between your folds, stroking with slow, steady pressure - cool vibranium rubbing where you needed it most.

“You’re soaking,” he growled. “All that heat getting to you?”

“You,” you whispered, grinding into his hand. “It’s you, Bucky, fuck -”

One finger slid inside - impossibly cold, your body clenching around him eagerly, greedy for it. Then another. He moved them in slow, curling thrusts while his thumb circled your clit in soft, frosty sweeps.

His teeth grazed your neck, his right hand held your hip steady while his left had you seeing god.

It was overwhelming. Heat and cold, sharp slaps and gentle strokes - your nerves couldn’t tell which was coming next.

When he smacked you again, right against your clit this time, your whole body jerked, your thighs trembling. He held you up against him, your back slicked with sweat against his broad chest.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, hips grinding helplessly against him, pressing hard against your ass. “Don’t stop, please -”

“Not planning to, sweetheart.”

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the heel of his hand pressing just right. And when he slapped you again, just once more, timed perfectly, it tipped you over the edge.

You came hard, body arching, a cry caught in your throat as everything clenched and broke open.

He held you through it, murmuring something against your neck you couldn’t even hear over the rush of blood in your ears.

“Oh god,” you breathed heavily.

With an obscene pop, he removed his hand from your aching pussy. He brought his digits to your mouth and you licked them clean.

He turned you gently, leaning you against the AC unit, pulled your top back up, and placed the softest kiss to your lips.

He weaved his hand through the freezing steam one more time and placed it between your shoulder blades. The cool relief made you sigh, the memory of his cold touch made your hips jerk against him, still hard.

“You not done, baby?”

Despite the heat, you arched into him, winding your arms around his neck.

“Not even close. Come take a cold shower with me?”

“Shower?” he grinned, gripping your thighs. “Nah, I want to make you sweat harder first.”

[vampzity]

pretty tears | BC

★ DAY THREE : DACRYPHILIA WITH BANGCHAN ★

pairing: husband! bangchan x f! reader

did you really think it was a good idea to bug your lovely boyfriend at a sophisticated dinner of all places? to think that you’d actually get away with it just because he can’t react then and there? you’d be extremely mistaken. he’ll show you exactly what whining and teasing gets you— in fact, he’ll have you whining at his mercy.

[warnings]: MDNI 18+!!, literally no plot, dacryphilia, dom bangchan x brat reader, slight spanking, rough unprotected sex, cursing, pet names (slut, whore, baby, babygirl), hair pulling, some fluff at the end, chan is a whole different person in bed

word count: 1.7k

“I’m sure Bangchan buys you all the finest jewelry, isn’t that right?”

You raised your eyebrows smugly, glancing at Bangchan’s “you better not” look. You smiled at him, taking a sip from your glass.

“Well it has been a little long since I’ve received any jewelry.. you would know, right Channie?”

You bat your lashes at him, watching as his face turned red from embarrassment. Some of the guest at the table snickered, others staying silent at your response. You didn’t mean anything rude from it, in fact you knew the reason why you haven’t received anything from Bangchan in some time. You didn’t care for the jewelry or expensive gifts, as his love was enough to hold you over, but boy did you love to play with him like a toy.

Only because you knew what it would get you later on.

“Baby, you know why I haven’t..” he turned to look at you, holding your hand under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. Chan gave a hesitant smile to the group, soon moving his hand to your thigh and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Why it shouldn’t be hard to provide for your lady. You make more than enough to sustain the both of you.”

You looked up at Chan’s right hand man in the business world, crossing your arms and nodding. Bangchan gritted his teeth, his nails digging into your thigh as you struggled to now hold back a yelp of pain.

“I say, treat her to something lovely, something containing 18 carat gold, with a pretty rock in the middle.” The younger looked at the woman next to him, admiring her beauty.

“As I always say, nothing but the best for my wife.”

Bangchan stood up from the dinner table, grabbing your coat and pulling you out of the chair. You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden change in character, getting up from your seat.

“Well it has certainly been a nice evening with you all.” He helped you put on your jacket. “I’ll see you Monday, yeah?”

He waved goodbye to everyone, dragging you out of the house silently. He opened the car door for you, still nothing but silence between the two of you. You both sat in the car for a moment, allowing the quiet of night to engulf you two before you spoke.

“Did I upset you Channie? You know I was only joking, right?”

You ran your fingers across his cheek, making him turn away from you as he started the car. He refused eye contact with you, driving away from the house without saying another word to you.

“And I’m sure you know by now that this bratty behavior doesn’t reward.”

— ✧⁂✬ —

You both walked into your shared bedroom, Chan taking off his blazer and setting it aside in on the desk. He was still silent as ever even after what felt like the longest car ride of your life.

You kicked off your heels and placed them in the closet, turning around to be met with Chan right in front of you. You met his eyes as they were filled with both lust and rage. Bangchan was always good with hiding his emotions around others, especially when you were the cause of them, but being alone with you was a different story.

“Bed. Now.”

Your breath hitched for a moment, feeling a cool chill run up your back. His face was stern and cold, but it wasn’t unfamiliar to you. Bangchan never appreciated your brattiness, especially not in front of others, but boy did he love to put you in your place for it. You were sure that he knew you enjoyed it as well.

“Or what, I’m not scared of you Channie.” you crossed your arms, smugging as he furrowed his eyebrows.

He grabbed you by the waist, pushing you toward the bed and bending you over. His hands slipped beneath your skirt, attempting to rip your panties off only to find that you had a thong on. Bangchan sighed, pulling your skirt up just enough to show your bare ass to him.

“You fucking slut.” he gritted his teeth, smacking his hand against your ass. You yelped out in pleasure, hands gripped at the bedsheets as he fondled with your ass.

“Wearing this little thing for me? You must want me to mess up this pretty pussy of yours, yeah?”

Another rough smack rippled through the room, leaving a tingling sensation against your skin. He grabbed your hair, pulling you up to meet his level. He smirked at your painful expression, his other hand rubbing your reddened skin.

“Not so bratty now, huh? What happened to that necklace you wanted so badly?”

You attempted to turn your head away, only for Chan’s grip to tighten. You hissed in response, your cunt already leaking in arousal from how rough he was with you.

“Maybe if you’re good for me, I’ll think about getting you one.” he looked at your bare ass, tilting his head.

“What did he say? 18 carat? With a pretty rock?”

He let go of your hair, undoing the buckle to his pants and pulling them down with ease. He pressed his bulge against your ass, groaning softly as his hands squeezed your skin. You moaned quietly as he pressed himself against your clothed folds.

He pulled your thong off, letting it drop to your ankles and soon pulling out his cock. He rubbing his tip against your folds, throwing his head back at how wet you were.

“Since you wanna be a brat,” he shoved his dick into you without warning, watching as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Why don’t we get you begging over that necklace, hm?”

He pulled your hands behind your back, holding them down as he rammed into your aching cunt. Your whimpers filled the room, unable to get a break as he grazed your sweet spot over and over. Your face dug into the bed, letting out countless cries of pleasure as Chan manhandled you.

“Channie, fuck!”

His nails dug into your waist as he held you tightly, slamming into you with no remorse. He left go of your hands and grabbed onto your hair once again, pulling you back against him. You winced in pain as Chan came down to your level, kissing your temple softly as he continued to fuck you.

“You like that, baby? Huh?”

A loud smack rippled against the walls, your asscheek tingling once again. You yelped in pleasure, nodding your head as tears began to spill down your cheeks. You moaned aloud, not even caring to wipe the tears that ran down your face.

“Aw look at you, not so bratty anymore hm?”

He kissed your tears, pulling out of you and flipping you onto your back. You met his lustful eyes, a good kind of fear instilling within you as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He rubbed the head of his dick softly against your folds, groaning as his tip leaked. He leaned forward, kissing you gently before pushing himself back into you without warning.

“Gonna fill you so good..” his thrusts grew hastily with every push. “You’re so pretty when you cry baby.”

He leaned over your body as he fucked you roughly. His eyes piercing into you like a knife while he watched your helpless tears escape you. A smug smile painted his face as he held your arms above your head.

“Whose pussy is this, hm?” he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Answer me when I talk to you, yeah? You know how I feel about you disrespecting me.”

He threw his head back and groaned as his tip grazed your sweet spot. You could barely take him in, let alone when he fucked you this roughly. All because you wanted to embarrass him in front of guests.

“Yours, it’s yours!

Chan smiled at you, his thumb coming down to rub against your clit softly. You let out a deep moan, back arching as he never stopped his harsh movements inside of you. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as your climax reached an all time high, suddenly rushing over your body and spilling all over his cock.

“Fuck, baby.” he threw his head back, holding your legs up as he pounded into you.

Tears continued to escape you as you begging him to slow down, but unfortunately for you he was too close to stop now. His thrusts got faster, harder as he felt his own high approaching, desperate to release into you. His hands dug into your thighs as you whimpered, small marks being left on your skin as a reminder of the behavior that earned you this type of treatment.

“Gonna, gonna cum.”

He leaned closer to your body, his head burrowed in your neck as his final thrusts were aggressive. A loud groan left his mouth as he released himself into you, pumping his dick into you a few more times to make sure you were stuffed. He kissed your neck gently, wiping the stained tears from your cheeks as his body came down from his high.

He gently pulled out of you, kissing your stomach softly as he pulled your skirt back down. He fixed himself up and sat next to your limp body, his hand rubbing your thigh.

“You learn your lesson, baby?” you looked up at him with doe eyes, nodding quietly as the last of your sniffles came. Chan smiled at you, ruffling your hair and getting up.

“Good. Want me to start a warm bath for you?”

You met his kindhearted eyes, the ones you adored just as much as his piercing ones. You smiled and nodded, playing with the hem of your skirt. Chan took you by the hand, guiding you to the bathroom and helped you undress as the water ran. Once you sat in the tub, he offered to wash you up, also bringing you some company while you relaxed.

“Thank you Channie.”

He kissed your forehead softly as he grabbed a warm towel for you, laying it on his lap as you laid in the water.

“Anything for my babygirl.”

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: OUU railway still has the craziest chokehold on me to this day man… neways 🌝

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @jjongibears @h4untedgrl @rvereri @joonezra @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @mingtinysworld @tiredlittlevirgo @honeyhwaaa @evidive @inniesfanblog @bluesungology

★ comment to be added to the taglist or fill out the form here!

[simplylov3ly]

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar applies sunscreen on you, while taking advantage of the bug of massaging your boobs.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, soft language, flirting, sexual massage, nipple squeezing, boob and nipple sucking, consent given, couple.

words: 1.1k

You decided to force Oscar to leave the house to go to the beautiful beach that lay nearby. Although it had been cloudy in the morning, by midday it was incredibly sunny, and knowing that, they couldn't pass up the opportunity to soak up some sun for a while.

The beach was deserted, in fact, it seemed like it was just the two of you.

Oscar watched the sea, how the waves crashed against the shore and how the wind made its presence known. He has an idea in mind, but he doesn't know if you would accept it.

"Baby, i feel like doing something, but I don't think you're up for it." Oscar says, leaning on his elbows above the towel.

You looked at him, still putting aside the book you were reading.

"Why do you think i wouldn't accept? You always come up with great ideas" You said, sitting down while crossing your legs.

He stopped looking at you to look straight ahead and then lowered his head so you wouldn't see his blushing cheeks.

You laughed softly, cupping Oscar's face in your hands. You looked at him tenderly, then smiled with tight lips.

"Hey, don't hide from me. Besides, you look like a tomato." You pointed out, making him laugh a little.

"It's just that we're literally alone on this beach and maybe..." He hesitated to finish that sentence.

"Maybe...?" You encouraged him to continue.

"I don't know, i..." Oscar stutters a little. "Maybe you want me to put some sunscreen on you. I don't want your skin to get damaged by the sun's rays."

"Ow, Oscar! Of course i'd let you." You exclaimed with amusement and tenderness.

You rolled onto your stomach as you untied the knot on your bikini top, leaving your back bare so Oscar could apply the sunscreen.

On the other hand, Oscar knelt down beside you, placing a small kiss on the upper left side of your back, making you shudder a little.

He applied sunscreen to his hand, setting the container aside, and began applying the cream to his back.

You could feel the coolness of the liquid melting into your skin like a melted candy.

"Do you like the massage, your majesty?" Oscar asked with a mocking smile, seeing how relaxed you were under the touch of his hands and massage.

"You have magical hands, my love," You murmured, feeling the tickles on the sides of your body. He was brushing his fingertips along them. "And you're definitely good at tickling me."

"It's part of the job, baby," Oscar says.

After a few minutes, you rolled over so you were chest-up. Your bikini top was still covering your beautiful tits, so you decided to be a little dirty and take it off to expose them.

Oscar's mouth fell open, but his eyes shone with a pleasant glow. He closes his mouth and then licks his lips and smiles, fascinated by the best views before his eyes.

"Playing dirty, aren't you?" Oscar asked in a husky tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You pretended not to understand.

"Keep pretending you don't know anything, you'll end up asking me not to stop when i have my mouth on your breasts," Oscar murmured.

Your eyes widened, realizing this was the first time Oscar had ever warned you about something.

A faint blush rose on your cheeks, and you noticed out of the corner of your eye how Oscar smiled triumphantly, knowing his words had had an effect on you.

He put sunscreen back on his hand, leaving the container still on his side as before, and this time, he applied the cream to her stomach, causing certain small tickles that gave tremendous satisfaction.

"Stop shaking, i'm not doing anything to you yet," Oscar informed her in the dirtiest way possible.

He seemed to be making some kind of promise.

"Stop saying that," You said, looking up at the sky so you wouldn't see him.

"Why? Does it turn you on when i promise you things you don't know if i'll keep or not?" Oscar asked in a mocking tone; damn, it was the first time you'd seen him in that flirtatious mood.

"Oscar..." You murmured, causing thousands of sensations in him.

"What, huh? You like it when i talk to you like that?" Oscar whispers, making you a little horny.

Without thinking, he took his hands off your body, wiping himself with the towel to toss it to the side and get on top of you in a gentle but promising way.

"Oh god, Oscar," You sighed.

"Look at me, baby," he says in that honeyed voice.

You wanted to challenge him, to push his limits.

"And if i don't, what will you do to me?" You asked playfully.

"You don't want to know," Oscar replied, smirking.

Suddenly, Oscar's mouth captures one of your nipples, licking it in circles, causing you thousands of pleasurable sensations.

You let out several moans, arching your back as one of your hands squeezed Oscar's brown hair, causing him to let out a satisfying noise.

"Oscar, i've never seen you like this," you managed to say amidst the pleasure generated by the grip circulating on your nipple.

"Maybe because i didn't find the right moment or maybe because i wanted to show my other side" He says as he releases your nipple. Now he uses his hands to massage them and make you feel like you're in fucking heaven.

Because that's what Oscar Piastri was, a beautiful and fucked up paradise.

"Honestly, i think we can continue this at home, my love," You said between gasps.

"Oh no, baby. Don't believe that," Oscar whispers against your ear. "Because i plan to fuck you right here, right now."

Hello everyone! This is my first fic published here on Tumblr. It might be a little short for what you're reading, but i promise i put my all into it.

I hope you like it, and follow me to turn on notifications so you don't miss anything! ୨ৎ

[cherubkissesx]

tangled limbs

part 2 here!

pairing: spencer reid x bau!female reader

summary: you and spencer are in a secret relationship but you’re sick so spencer immediately rushes to your place after work but he ends up falling asleep, but penelope and derek catch you two.

contents: fluff, sick reader!, talks of throwing up

you woke up that day feeling absolutely terrible but decided to go into work anyways, however just before you and the team were about to go on the jet aaron stopped you and told you to go home.

“what! why?” you said stunned but aaron just shot you a look as if to say “are you serious”. “you look very ill, and it doesn’t ease my nerves to know one of my team might throw up everywhere based on the way you cover your mouth every five seconds” aaron said pointedly.

“you make a very good point sir” you said giving up and walking to go pack up your stuff to leave. “where are you headed?” spencer said subtly putting his hand on your wrist.

“home i feel awful” you said as you yet again find your hand flying up to your mouth in a moment of panic thinking you might throw up but lower your hand when the nausea passed.

“in the politest way possible, you look god awful” spencer said in a soft tone. “gee, thanks” you laugh.

“i’ll see you later.” you said and when there was no one around he planted a kiss on your temple which made your pale complexion flush instantly.

—-

you got changed into your pjs immediately upon arriving home and flop into bed making sure you have a sick bucket at the side of your bed just incase.

practically as soon as your head hit the pillow you fell into a deep slumber. the coolness of your sheets hitting your flushed face felt nice and soothing.

some hours later you awoke startled as you felt someone gently shake you awake. “spence?” you managed to say once you peeled your eyes open. you looked around your room finding that your room was engulfed in darkness. wow how long had you slept?

you check your phone and see it was 11pm that same day, you had slept all day.

“what are you doing here?” you asked softly budging up and patting the now open spot for spencer to sit in.

“i was worried about you” spencer said engulfing you in a gentle hug. “it’s only a stomach bug and maybe a bit of a fever” you waved off.

“shhh let me worry” spencer said lying down and pulling you into his side. “you guys are back earlier than i thought” you said trying to make conversation. “the case was a bust, minimal evidence” spencer said sadly. “i’m thankful i didn’t miss out on much i already feel awful for not being there” you confessed.

“you never take a day off work not in all the years i’ve known you, plus you didn’t really take the day off you were sent home” spencer said reassuringly.

you smile up at him and snuggle into him even more as if no matter how close you were pressed into him it wasn’t enough. he diverts his soft doe like eyes down to yours and kisses you tenderly.

“my breath smells bad” you said giggling. “let me look after you” spencer smiles and runs his fingers through your hair which has your eyelids drooping.

—-

penelope and derek both take turns knocking on your apartment door but there was no answer. “we’ll just use her spare key!” penelope exclaims. “why would you know where she keeps her spare key?” derek asked in confusion. “doesn’t take a genius to figure it out” penelope said and retrieved your spare key from underneath your doormat.

“for an fbi agent that’s this smart she doesn’t think about her safety” derek laughed.

penelope and derek had brought you a care package although it was all penelope’s idea and derek just tagged along, it consisted of homemade soup, face masks, etc.

they made a beeline to your bedroom as it was the only door closed and you weren’t anywhere else. “y/n!” penelope said in a sing song voice.

“i—?” penelope said going to say something but stopped dead in her tracks and so did derek.

the scene they saw infront of them was you nestled in closely to spencer’s side, your head buried in the crook of his nick and his head resting on top of yours. he had a protective arm slung over your body while your hand was resting on his chest. and your legs where tangled together.

“did you know anything about this?” derek asked in surprise. “no! how could she not say anything” penelope whisper shouted.

“i think we should take a picture!” penelope announced excitedly and captured a photo of you two.

“they are never hearing the end of this.” derek chuckled.

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: after vi’s kick-boxing match, you’re invited to come over to her place for a celebration after party. gentle moments & new beginnings ensue.

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, baker!reader, mila & jinx being reader & vi’s #1 supporters, mentions of violence & blood (it is kick boxing), the moment everyone has WANTED! (including me)

word count: 6.1K

a/n: that’s the end of these two :( i’ve loved writing this mini-series for you all and hope this satisfies you all as an ending. and thank you guys so so much for 3K FUCKING FOLLOWERS. my mind is BLOWN. MY INBOX IS OPEN FOR ANY MORE VI ONESHOT/SERIES IDEAS if you want to requests <3

— FOUR

The night before Vi’s match was a race to complete the two cakes you were making for her.

One that read: ‘#1 Boxer!’

The other that read: ‘#1 in our hearts!’

Just in case she wasn’t too lucky but judging off of the minimal boxing you’ve seen from her practicing at her gym, there was a slim chance she would be losing.

“Bug, it’s almost midnight. I’ll finish this.” Your grandma scolds you as you pipe the last of the lettering on the top of the first cake.

You huff at her, shaking your head. You were blinking back the sleep itching at your eyelids, determined to get this finished tonight.

“I’m nearly done. I just have the second cake and then I’ll be good.”

Your grandmother folds her arms over her chest, tilting her head as she inspected your behavior.

“You really like this girl,” she says fondly as if she’s realizing it for the first time.

You sigh, looking up at her as you let out a self deprecating chuckle.

“Yeah, I do.” A beat passes. “Do you think this is pathetic?”

Your grandmother walks over to you, rounding the island to rub her hands up and down your arms. She shakes her head as she hums in thought.

“No. I think it’s sweet. You have a lot of love in you and she’d be so lucky to get even a piece of it.” She sighs as she kisses your temple.

You look at your grandma with an adoring look in your eyes, taking in her words. The dimness of the overhead light above the island shone against your glossy eyes.

“Thanks, gram. I love you,” you whisper as you lean into her touch.

“I love you more.” She hums as she motions to everything scattered mess of utensils, bowls and piping tools across the island. “Clean this up before you go to bed. I don’t want to hear the whining in the morning.”

You chuckle as you bump your hip with her own.

“I know,” you drag teasingly, shaking your head.

Your grandmother hums one more time before walking away from the kitchen to emerge into the darkness to her bedroom. A comfortable silence takes over the dim kitchen, unable to move from that position for a few seconds.

With the piping tool in your hand, you think about what the hell you were doing. It came so easy for you to care for Vi. How could you not? Your friendship was something you would hold tightly for years to come.

But what were you doing with her?

The way your heart beats in a special rhythm just for her should be clear enough to show that what you two have is more than that. You shake off the feeling and return to piping the lettering onto the small cakes, ignoring the nervous ache that was settling in the pit of your stomach.

You went to bed after begrudgingly cleaning up the mess you had made and put the cakes in the fridge to cool, sleeping that night with a haunting ‘what if?’ floating in your mind.

The next day was agony.

Vi had sent a photo of her prepping for the match a.k.a getting a last minute workout in.

from vi ♥︎ | [1 Image Attached]

from vi ♥︎ | Getting a last minute workout in before tonight. What are you up to, pretty girl?

What the hell was her problem? It was 8 in the morning.

You gawk at the photo of her reflection in the gym mirror, the shadows perfectly highlighting her sculpted biceps that had a light glisten of sweat on them. She had on a white simple sports bra, her entire torso exposed for you to enjoy. Her athletic pants sat low on her hips so that you could see the waistband of her briefs. She had her phone held up so that her face was covered but you could imagine that irritatingly attractive smirk on her lips.

God, you could feel the heat in your cheeks spreading down to your neck. You hadn’t even made yourself breakfast yet.

to vi ♥︎ | about to make myself breakfast but this is distracting for me

from vi ♥︎ | Me? A distraction?

from vi ♥︎ | No, no. That doesn’t sound like me.

You scoff at her message, knowing that this is exactly the kind of reaction she wants from you.

to vi ♥︎ | whatever.

to vi ♥︎ | i guess you won’t see my cheerleader outfit anymore

from vi ♥︎ | Wait no, please.

You would be lying if you would say her saying ‘please’ didn’t boost your ego a little bit.

“Hey, Jinx is coming over soon so just giving you a heads up since Gram left already.”

Mila’s voice causes you to jump with your phone clutched in your hand, blinking rapidly as you lift your head up to see Mila leaning over the island with a cheeky smile.

“Okay. I’m home. Remember that,” you point accusingly at her.

She rolls her eyes at your words. “She just wants to have breakfast with me and I said I’d cook. You’re one to talk.”

Your eyes trail down her neck to the hickey fading on her collarbone before squinting at her. Mila and Jinx’s relationship wasn’t your business but you were almost 100% sure they were dating. Well, you did walk in on them making out in her room after your shift at the bakery, about to ask Mila if she wanted pizza just a few days prior and your eyes were assaulted with that image.

Jinx ended up staying for dinner and no one spoke a word about it after.

“Yeah, okay. You forgot one,” you motion to the spot on her skin.

Her hand reaches up to feel over the fading hickey, appearing flustered for a moment before mumbling a ‘shut up’ and making her way back to her bedroom. You snicker to yourself at her state, shaking your head in disbelief. You grab a bowl for your oatmeal and send a message back to Vi, feeling all the more proud of yourself.

to vi ♥︎ | mmm i dont know. i might not wear it at this point, violet

from vi ♥︎ | Well, if I ask nicely, will you?

to vi ♥︎ | i guess you’ll just have to wait until tonight :)

You set your phone down for a moment to grab a banana and slice it up into little circles. As you add in a little bit of brown sugar and banana to your oatmeal, your phone on the counter dings and your face heats up at the message.

from vi ♥︎ | Such a tease, cupcake.

Hypocrite.

from vi ♥︎ | But I can’t wait to see you tonight. You’re coming to mine after for Vanders barbecue, right?

to vi ♥︎ | yes! mila’s coming with too so i bet jinx’ll be excited about that

vi ♥︎ hearted this message

to vi ♥︎ | and i can’t wait to see you too :)

You finally set your phone aside to carry your bowl over to your couch, grabbing the TV remote to put on a random film as you eat your breakfast in peace. Well for two minutes until you hear knocking at your door.

You huff as you pause your movie, about to get up from the comfy position on the couch before you hear a door swing open and rushed footsteps come from behind you.

“I’ll get it!” She calls out as she practically flies past you to open the door.

You gradually sit back down, leaning your body to the left slightly. Your eyes lock on the door as Mila sucks in a deep breath to swing open the door. You duck your head as you see that familiar head of blue hair, surprisingly pulled back into a singular long ponytail with her baggy pjs on.

You couldn't eavesdrop as much as you desired to due to the distance but you could hear soft whispers and smitten giggles emitting from the both of them as they made their way to the kitchen.

“Morning!” Jinx peaks into the living room for a moment, waving at your position from the couch.

“Morning. What are you guys making?” You question, smiling at her blue-haired girl as Mila lingers behind her, twirling a few strands of other’s vibrant hair.

“I was thinking french toast but Mils wants pancakes so,” Jinx huffs as she turns to look at your sister.

“Okay, well, clean it up when you’re done, please,” your gaze shifts to your sister as it was catered more towards her.

Mila rolls her eyes but mutters a ‘we will’ before grabbing onto Jinx’s hand, intertwining their fingers and rushing back to the kitchen to be by themselves. You purse your lips as your smile grows at your sisters… girlfriend? You weren’t entirely sure what their relationship was but she seemed happy.

That’s really all you could want for her.

After Jinx and Mila made their breakfast (making sure to be as giggly and have no space between each other at all times until Jinx left), the afternoon was a blur of the two of you panicking as you got ready. You had the cheerleader outfit in mind as you slipped on a skirt that you had bought over a year ago out of impulse at the thrift store.

It had been collecting dust in your drawer up until today. It was a simple black pleated skirt with your skin-color toned tights to help with chafing and a white fitted long sleeve due to the cooler weather outside. It was mid-December but where you lived didn’t get as cold as you had thought.

You blame it on global warming.

“Hey, do you have any conceal–” Mila popped into your room as you were pressing the skirt down to your thighs, checking yourself out in the mirror. “Wow. You look good.”

You look at her through the reflection and a small smile forms on your face. “Thanks. It’s not too much for a boxing match though?”

“No. You look like a boxer's girlfriend.” Mila teases as she walks over to your vanity that held your makeup.

You roll your eyes, feeling all the more stressed now.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just tell her how you feel. You two have insane tension.” Mila looks up at you as she picks through your makeup.

“I don’t know how, dude. It’s harder than it seems,” you huff as you step away from your mirror to make your way over to her.

“Well, I think you should. The both of you are dancing around telling each other how you feel and are disgustingly flirty. You don’t want to end up in a homoerotic friendship, do you?”

You stare speechless at your sister. As harsh as it was to hear, you knew that she was right. You didn’t want to keep bullying yourself into thinking that you shouldn’t tell Vi how you feel; that it's better being unspoken.

You didn’t want to let something like this lessen over time because you were too much of a coward.

“No, I don’t,” you reply with a long sigh.

“There you go. Tonight at their house; you tell her.” Mila points accusingly at you, narrowed eyes and all.

Your eyes widen at her words. “I didn’t mean today.”

“Well, I did. Because then you’ll be,” she clears her throat and nasals her voice a bit as she mocks you, “I’ll just do it tomorrow, Mils. I’m just gonna stare at Vi’s biceps and abs in the meantime and drool all over my phone instead of just telling her how I feel like a loser.”

You raise one of your hands to smack her upside her head, scoffing at her rude impersonation of you.

“Fuck you,” you roll your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I’ll… tell her later.”

Mila rubs at her scalp before snatching the concealer she had been looking for, turning to you with a small grin.

“See? Tough love works.”

“I think at this point it's peer pressure,” you correct her as she leaves your room.

“I can’t hear you! I’m getting ready!” Mila shouts from the other side of the house after a few beats of silence.

You shake your head with a soft chuckle as you take one more once over of your outfit as you couldn’t help but feel all the more excited knowing that Vi would be seeing you in this. A fleeting thought of imagining her fawning over you passes before you continue getting yourself ready.

Once the two of you were ready to go, you grabbed your keys and passed by your grandma who had been sitting in her living room with her iPad in her lap playing Tetris as the shop had closed early on Sundays.

“Bye, gram. We’ll be home a little late so please don’t wait up,” you walk over to her, giving her a warm hug.

“Look at my two beautiful granddaughters.” She coos as she cups your cheek and looks over at Mila with a sweet smile.

“We get it from you, gram.” Mila chuckles as she goes to the other side of her, giving her a side hug as she snuggles her cheek into her graying hair.

“Have fun. Sneak me some barbecue. I’ll eat it tomorrow.” She chuckles as she pats both of your backs.

You release her with a soft ‘love you’, Mila doing the same as you leave the house to make your way to the local arena where the matches are being held.

The second the two of you walked in, you were bombarded by the scent of sweat and heat. You spot Ekko’s bright white hair before anyone else in the stands, raising your hand and waving to get his attention. Ekko’s eyes narrow when he spots you and Mila before they relax once he realizes who he’s looking at. Jinx was in one of the most relaxed manspreads with her booted feet resting on the hard plastic seats, Isha was coloring next to Ekko, showing him each page. Vander was nowhere in sight.

You both make your way over to the small family, giving everyone a side hug and soft greeting. Isha looks up from her messy scribbles to sign ‘hi, pretty cake lady.’ You can’t help but beam down at her, muttering a ‘hi cutie.’ Isha smiles at that before resuming her colors.

“Hey. We’re not too late right?” You wonder as you sit next to Ekko, setting your purse down on the other seat next to you.

“Nah, she’s in the second half of the tournaments which start in, like, five minutes.” Ekko reassures you, looking up at Mila from his seated position. “Hey, M.”

“Hey, little man.” Mila grins as she steps over the first row of stands to sit in between Jinx’s legs.

“I’m taller than you, you know?” He scoffs.

“Barely. Like an inch or two.” Mila rolls her eyes with a playful undertone.

“Is Vander here?” You wonder as you look around the many rows of people who were undoubtedly here to support the competitors.

“Oh, yeah. He’s getting popcorn but he’ll be back before it starts.” Jinx replies to you as she closes her wide man-spread to allow Mila to rest her head on her knee.

Ew. But cute, you think to yourself.

Right on his cue, Vander walks over to set the large popcorn bucket in Ekko’s palms. A friendly smile etches onto his beard-coated face.

“Glad you could make it. Vi was telling me about you coming,” he sits down on the other side of you, raising a arm to give you a side hug.

You accept the warmth with ease, getting a good whiff of his burly-woodsy cologne lingering to his clothes.

“Dad, she was raving about her coming,” Jinx corrects.

Mila merely raises her eyebrows at you but elbows Jinx’s knee at the teasing. She mutters an ‘ow’ with a huff. Your face lit aflame as you attempted to ignore the blue-haired girl.

“Right, right. She misses you.” Vander tugs you in a little before releasing you to point at Isha’s figure. “So does little miss sweet-tooth over there.”

You chuckle at his words but your mind couldn’t help but pick out the fact that Vi’s father is admitting this to you. Have you affected her as much as she has to you?

You didn’t have much time to ponder on it as the first round began before you could process two people were socking each other in the face.

Boxing matches were a lot more intense than you had thought.

Here you were cramped next to Vander who was clapping and cheering Vi on who was 3 times louder than the entire crowd, Ekko on the other side who was shoving popcorn down his throat as he shouted that at the ref about Vi’s opponent who was apparently doing illegal moves, and Isha was mimicking each punch her eldest sister was throwing at her opponent, wriggling around so much you had to wrap your arms around her torso to keep her still in your lap. You could hear Jinx and Mila who were sitting a row behind you wincing at each blow.

Your eyes flickered from Vi to her opponent, the bright light above the two shining down to highlight the glistening sweat and panting chest. Vi had already gotten a few good hits in, her red gloves already having a faint smudge from her opponents blood.

Her face was determined, brows furrowed in concentration. The match was nearly over; the two being on their 3rd round. Everyone was antsy to see who was going to be condemned as the winner of this match.

Vi had flown past these matches; nearly winning every single one. Seeing her in action ignited something… arousing inside of you. It was humiliating to know the excited thoughts that were flooding your mind as Vi threw calculated hits, kicks and punches towards her opponents as you were surrounded by her close family.

The timer goes off for the last and final round of their match and the bell dinged off for the two to separate. Vi knocked her gloved fist with her opponent with a nod of respect as she walked over to her corner with her coach to spit out her mouth guard and take a few huge gulps of water, a few droplets mixing with her sweat as it trails down her neck.

Boxing matches were a lot more enticing than you had thought as well.

Maybe because you’d never seen a girl you were crushing on in such a position but now? Yeah, you wanted to be at every single one.

“And after a unanimous decision,” the announcer speaks into the mic that floods through the audience. “The winner is Violet from Medarda Studio.”

Excitement rushed through your body as you stood up with Isha in your arms, jumping as you cheered along with the entire family. Vander turns to you and Isha and lifts the both of you up as before, setting you down to clap loudly and shout, “That’s my girl!” with nothing but heartwarming joy. Isha giggles at her fathers ecstatic state as she turns in your arms, silently asking to be set on her feet. You release her as she climbs up the steps of the stands to hop onto Jinx’s back.

Seeming to know what she was asking, Jinx lifted her onto her shoulders as she whoops for her sister’s victory. Vi’s arm was being held up by the referee, her eyes scanning through the crowd and landing on you. Your breath catches in your throat as you visibly notice her smile grow the second she finds your face.

Before you can mouth something to her, you feel a large hand on your back and look up to see Vander pointing towards the exit.

“Come on. She’s gonna leave out the back.”

You nod and let him lead the way, antsy to see Vi even though it has barely been a week since you have seen her. You hadn’t realized just how much until now. Soon, everyone was outback in the parking lot, awaiting the boxing champion.

The heavy metal doors swing open, other competitors leaving as well to reunite with their own families. Vi emerges with who you were assuming was one of her students as she’s clapping the girl on the back with a kind smile and ruffles her head of hair before making her way over to everyone.

“Hey guys,” one of her metals hung around her neck and a duffle over her right shoulder, a bright smile on her face.

How does she look amazing after boxing and sweating for hours?

Everyone bombards her with overlapping compliments about how amazing she was as Isha runs up to her with soft laughter leaving her lips. Vi is quick to bend over to pick her up off of her feet and rest her on her hip.

“Seriously. I’m a little afraid of you now,” Mila juts in as her hand is locked with Jinx’s leaning on her.

“Nah, I would never intentionally hit you.” Vi reassures your sister as she finally locks eyes with you.

You almost miss her eyes locking right on your skirt before trailing up your legs to your face. She steps closer to you, pursing her lips as she is seemingly holding in a giddy grin. You can’t help but mentally give yourself a high-five for her reaction.

“Hey, cupcake. Thanks for coming.” She adjusts Isha on her hip.

“It’s nothing. I wanted to,” you shake it off. “I brought cake!”

“Of course you did.” Vi lets her smile through, a soft chuckle leaving her lips.

“What flavor?” Ekko wonders as he is still eating the popcorn.

You grin with clasped hands behind your back. “Marble cake with vanilla frosting. Nothing too crazy.”

All of a sudden, a loud grumble emits from Vander causing everyone to chuckle to themselves.

“I don’t know about you guys but I have worked up quite the appetite cheering you on,” Vander pats his stomach with a huff, sending his eldest daughter a wink as he tries to usher everyone who rode with him to the van.

You internally frown at Vanders rushing but you keep it to yourself as you think that maybe you’ll get some alone time with Vi when you get to the loving household.

“You were the loudest there. I think I can’t hear through my left ear anymore,” Jinx jokes with her dad, holding her ear with a groan.

Vander playfully rolls his eyes at Jinx, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder that Mila wasn’t resting on.

“Come on. We’ll see you guys at home.” He nods at Mila and you.

Vi nods in agreement, eyes following over your outfit once again as she follows her little family towards the beaten down van. You suck in a deep breath as you watch her look behind her shoulder to glance at you once more before she locks her attention back on Isha who seems to be signing aggressively to her.

Tonight, you remind yourself.

Vander’s house was lively; everyone speaking amongst one another as he was outside barbecuing the meats on the grill. You had been playing Uno with Isha and Ekko in the living room, letting her win pretty much every time. She couldn’t say ‘uno’ so when she would have one card left, she would hold up her pointer finger while you and Ekko groaned and frowned playfully about how good she was at this game.

Feeling a bit thirsty, you excused yourself from the group and grabbed a soda before shutting it gently.

Vi had been in the shower as she claimed she looked terrible after all those matches.

You wanted to disagree loudly and tell her she always looked good but you second guessed it and kept it to yourself.

“So no cheerleading outfit, huh?” You hear from beside you.

Without looking up, you shake your head with a smitten grin.

“Nope,” you hum as you crack open your can, now turning your head to see a freshly showered Vi.

The scent of her body wash and perfume lingered in the air around her as she had given you maybe 3 inches of room between the two of you. She sported a black tee shirt and a pair of comfy red and black plaid PJ pants, her hair a slightly darker shade than usual as it was still air drying from her shower. She had a small butterfly closure and yellowing bruise over her cheek and one on the tail of her eyebrow.

Still, she looked as beautiful as ever.

Her eyes trail down to your skirt, shamelessly checking you out as she points down to the short material.

“Well, I’m not complaining about this compromise,” she grins at you before walking around you to open the fridge door herself.

You hide your blush as best as you can, taking a sip of your drink before clearing your throat.

“So when you said you were boxing, I did not expect to see some professional moves out there,” you tease as you tilt your head at her.

“Wow, doubting me, cupcake?”

“I never said that. I was actually wondering if you’d go pro,” you watch her grab her own can of soda, cracking it open with a soft hiss.

Vi stills for a second at your words before shaking her head. “I don’t know. I… looked into it a while back but it's a lot of traveling. I wouldn’t really have a set home, you know?”

Huh. So, she’s not a fan of traveling.

“You’d like a more domestic life?” You wonder as you lean against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I would,” she nods with a gentle grin, folding her arms over her chest. “And you? Are you planning on staying at your grandma's bakery for a while?”

The question allows you to think for a moment. You hadn’t really looked into any other sort of career path as you had learned about every nook and cranny to run your grandmother’s bakery for years now. It had become second nature; a space that you felt comfortable in.

You shrug your shoulders, a content smile on your lips. “I definitely can’t complain. I love it there. Yeah, it gets hard but every job is like that.”

Vi eyes bore into yours, seeming to be listening intently to you. For a moment it felt like you two were the only ones in the house as you spoke quietly in the space of her kitchen. The sounds of Jinx, Ekko, Mila and Isha playing in the living room were becoming more and more drowned out by the bright ocean of Vi’s eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not leaving anytime soon,” Vi nods with a gentle smile.

“Why? So you can get more free desserts?” You tease as you lean in closer, your faces just a mere inch apart.

Her eyes flicker down to your lips; a split second of you catching her attention turning to something other than your eyes.

“You know that’s not why,” she whispers as she leans her face in closer to yours.

Your breath catches into your throat as you could feel your cheeks and neck getting hotter by the second. Her hand clamps around your soda can, unbelievably tense and nervous as you try and muster up the courage to tell her.

You could hear Mila’s voice taunting you in the back of your mind.

“Vi–”

“Food’s ready!” Vander’s booming voice echoes in the house, causing the both of you to jump and pull back from one another.

Vi turns her head to shout back: “Be right there, dad!”

A wave of disappointment washes over you but you attempt to shield it as you spread your lips thin, pointing outside with your free hand.

“Let’s go. I’m sure you’re hungry after beating people up for hours.”

Vi pauses before an amused chuckle leaves her mouth. “Uh, yeah but I have a gift for you.”

“You do?” You grin is replaced with a more genuine smile.

“Yeah, I have it in my room. Come on,” she reaches for your free palm.

You take her hand with ease: like you had done it a million times before. You set your soda down on the counter and allow Vi to pull you through the house's walls to her bedroom.

Vi twists the knob and pushes her door open to reveal her overall neat room, noticing a candle lit on top of her dresser. The refreshing scent just screams ‘her’. You don’t miss the little knick-knacks and metals and trophies placed on one side of her wall, her name etched onto the plaques.

“So, what’d you get me?” You hum, a shit-eating grin on your face as you're still looking at the wall.

Vi sucks in a sharp breath before muttering out your name.

“Yeah?” You twist your body back to face her, eyes finding her own.

Not even a second passed before you felt her lips on yours. You emit a noise of surprise as she cups either side of your face, tilting her jaw up to mold her lips into your own. The initial shock passes when you feel her pull back slightly, the realization setting in.

Vi’s kissing you. You’re kissing her.

Your hands land on her waist as you tug her in once again, eagerly following her lips now that you are aware of what’s happening. Vi hums against you, thumbing at your jaw for a moment. A shiver trickles down your spine at the feeling.

You pull away from her with a soft smack, chest pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they could crack.

“Was that my gift?” You breathe out, licking your lips as if to taste the remnants of her lips.

Vi’s lips crack into a sheepish smile, hands still cupping either side of your face as she peers into your eyes.

“No, I just,” Vi sucks in a deep breath, “You know have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment we fucking met.”

Your eyes soften at her words, a smile creeping onto your face. “Really?”

Vi nods as she releases your face, the warmth of her palms lingering on your skin.

“I wanted to tell you how I felt after we made the cinnamon rolls but Jinx and Mila came back and I had to leave. Everytime I smelled sugar, I was reminded of how much of an idiot I was for not saying or doing anything before.”

You raise your hand to cover your mouth to try and cover your elated smile at her confession, a breath of relief leaving your lips.

“I was going to tell you today so I’m kind of glad there wasn’t a gift.”

“Fuck, that was stupid,” she breathed out as she looks down at her feet as she places her hands on hips.

You suck in a deep breath as your nose brushes past hers causing her to look back up at you. Taking initiative this time around, you tilt your head as you lock your lips to kiss her as passionately as you can muster. Her hands leave her own hips to settle on yours, tugging you in so your bottom halves were flushed together. Your forearms rest on her toned shoulders as you are practically inhaling each other, heavy breathing and the soft smacking of your lips fill the room.

And if you focused hard enough, you could feel her abs through her thin shirt.

Needing to take a breather, you pull away to rest your forehead on hers with an ecstatic smile.

“It was a little stupid but I like you.”

Vi’s grip tightens on your hips as if she’s trying to remind herself that this is real; that you are real.

“If it wasn’t obvious, I like you too,” Vi hums as she leans in to peck your lips once.

Your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling.

“Are we… dating now?” You question, tilting your head at her.

“Well, I have to take you on dates first but yes, I would love to be.”

God, you wanted to kiss her until the both of you were breathless. Excitement floods through your system as you nod with a soft ‘okay’, standing in a comfortable silence.

“So,” you clear your throat as you mess with a loose string on her tee, “should we go out there now?”

Vi’s eyes leave yours to stare at her closed bedroom door, letting out a long sigh before glancing back at you.

“I want to say ‘no’ but I know they’re probably waiting on us. My dad takes his barbecuing very seriously,” she smacks her lips against her teeth with a playful eye roll.

You chuckle, believing her 100%.

“If you say so,” you nod as you place a gentle kiss on her lips greedily.

The kiss lingers for longer than either of you intended before you had to step back, forcing yourself to detach from her addicting lips. Your hand reaches for the knob as you throw her a smitten grin before swinging the door open.

You hear an ‘oh shit’ before the sound of a multitude of footsteps scurrying down the hallway. Taking a step into the now empty hall, you catch a glimpse of an undeniable piece of blue hair peeking from behind the wall that opens to the living room.

“Was that–”

“Jinx and Mila and probably Ekko and Isha? Yeah, come on,” Vi sighs as she grabs your hand to lead back down where you came from.

When you enter the living room, everyone is sitting in a circle on the rug with their own plates of barbecue as they actively pretend to not notice you two.

“Hey guys,” you say flatly, looking down at the group.

Jinx is the first to look up and smiles cheekily. “Hey. Where did you guys go? Because we have been sitting here eating and playing Uno and minding our business.”

Isha raises her little hand to cover her giggling mouth before nodding along to what Jinx was saying.

“We know you guys were spying on us, you freaks.” Vi shakes her head as she flips Jinx off to which she immediately reciprocates.

“Hey, why are you only flipping me off? It was everyone,” she motions to the entirety of the little group.

Ekko, Mila and Isha huff at her words as they continue to eat their own food before making their own sounds of protest.

“Don’t act like it wasn’t your idea. I know you, Jinx.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves Vi off before looking at you with a knowing grin. “Did she do her ‘gift’ bit? I told her it was dorky.”

Vi at this point grabs a throw pillow from the couch to hit her upside the head, nearly stepping on her foot as she does so. Vander calls from the kitchen for them to knock it off and to come and eat.

You snort as you shake your head as you settle in next to Isha who had signed to you: “Are you going to be here a lot now that you kissed Vi?”

You can’t help but nod slowly before signing to her: “I hope so.”

In the blink of an eye, Isha sets her food down before she jumps into your lap, wrapping her smaller arms around your neck with a soft giggle. You jump back at the feeling but are quick to reciprocate, not even minding the fact that her hands were covered with grease. Over Isha’s shoulder, you catch Vi looking at the two of you with a content smile. She walks over to kneel down to kiss Isha on the top of the head and then you on the cheek.

“Do you want any food, cupcake?” Vi questions softly.

You shake your head. “I’m okay, babe. Thank you.”

Vi doesn’t correct you as it sounded so perfect coming from your lips. Instead, she places one more kiss to your cheek before nodding with understanding.

“Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You nod as you snuggle into Isha’s death grip hug. As Vi walks away from the little circle, you suck in a deep breath as you examine the area around you. Jinx was muttering curses at Mila for cheating and looking at her cards, Ekko was snorting at her anger as he leaned into Mila to hide his face and Mila pushed him off with a groan as his fingers lingered with grease. The sound of Vi and Vander chatting to one another in the kitchen really pulled it together for you.

“You finally did it, kiddo. She’s a good one.”

A beat passes before Vi says with nothing but admiration in her tone.

“I know, dad.”

You could get used to this. You wanted to get used to this.

previous part

TAG-LIST: @cinnamonmilf @sevikasfag @unear7hly @oldloverpoet @ellies-dinosaur @natscloset @baylegend6 @eddiesdrummergf @naponiac @velvetinkbym @caitvicupcakes @sawaagyapong @eyelinerfemme @rosieeteaa @prettyinpink69 @mymelody58 @inara-123 @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25 @loserbaby66 @jokermoonie @ranxiaolong @morphids @gayandcurious @oatmatchalatte @iamastar @saviourcomplexgf @vihxh7 @jinxjinxjinx12 @krilara @magical-rush @winchestergirlspn @naponiac @alex-thegiraffeboyy @fallingstarsburn @nombreuxx @16novvs @laviannasfanfics @kitty-kei @jupitsim @thalchmy @klallx @seraphicsentences @elliecoochieeater @womenlover-0 @vangoes

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

do you think you could write a little scenario about how leona, azul, jamil, idia, and cater would deal with a sudden bout of cuteness aggression. like they feel that there’s just something about reader right then and there that is so unexplainably adorable that they experience the overwhelming urge to physically express it. thank you!!

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul is the slightest bit irritated by this sudden bought of cuteness aggression, this overwhelming affection completely foreign to him. He doesn’t like that a person has this much control over him, enough to send him spiraling just from a playful smile or silly joke. He considered telling you to leave his office because you were thoroughly distracting him from his work, giving into the conversation you had started that was based on some odd hypothetical. He can’t deny how cute it is when you get excited at him indulging you, knowing he was only digging a deeper hole.

Cater Diamond:

Cater doesn’t have an issue with expressing how cute he thinks you are, even when it overwhelmed him like a slap to the face. He has an entire private album, never posted, of candid pics of you living your daily life (taken when inspiration struck, aka the cuteness aggression bug). You would dare to say most of them are boring, alluding to this being the reason he didn’t post them like he did everything else. It made him pout as you couldn’t be father from the truth! Those were his, for his eyes only to enjoy, and he couldn’t let anyone else see how cute you were when you didn’t even realize.

Idia Shroud:

Idia has to cover his face, almost curling up into a tiny ball as you look on in confusion. He couldn’t look at you a single second longer or he might explode, losing all coolness points he’s earned (if any, but he couldn’t take the chance). The tips of his hair give him away as usual but even as you question what might be wrong, he thinks how cute it is that you’re concerned with him. Perhaps he wasn’t the protagonist but one of many love interests, and you had so thoroughly maxed out his love levels that everything you did raised his affection to this unbearable point.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil does have the tendency to get swept up in emotion, and while he’s generally more reserved with showing affection, the cuteness overload always gets to him. You’re always surprised when he randomly squeezes you in a tight hug from behind, thinking his last name should’ve been considered a warning to any who knew him. You’ll never receive an answer as to why he did this, with Jamil hiding his face in your shoulder to put off meeting your curious gaze until he could think of a way to change topics.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona moved so quickly it reminded you that he was a carnivore, a predator, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His hands grip your face and force you to stare into his eyes, your heart jumping in your chest at the intense look on his face. His own expression remained neutral but it seemed he was looking for something, observing the small details of your face, eyes settling longest on your lips before they drifted up again to meet your gaze. When it seemed you were about to ask a question Leona crushed his lips against yours to silence you, not wanting to answer a single question about his sudden need to be close.

[yukioos]

hwang in-ho x reader fic inspired by prison for life by olivia rodrigo please i have a vision i cant fulfill

PRISON FOR LIFE

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // in-ho was a gentleman and always got you anything you wanted, spoiling you rotten. he wouldn’t hesitate for even a second to protect you from anyone with bad intentions.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! i see the vision and i hope i carried it out well! tysm for this ask, it was so cool and fun to make. i hope u like it. this is 0.9k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, cussing, violence n blood, drinking, reader gets hit on by another guy idk, pet name

in-ho was a gentleman, at least to you. although he thought he was an important figure in society because he was the frontman, he never showed pride or thought he was better than you. he could be cocky at times, knowing his worth, but always tried to remain gentle with you and keep him and the frontman two different people.

he wouldn’t tell you much about his work in fear that you’d leave him because of his actions. but of course, he doubted you’d even think of finding someone else when he treated you like a goddess.

oh, you mentioned wanting a cute little plant to put on the windowsill of your bedroom? suddenly there’s a small plant on the kitchen counter with no explanation. you stared at a cute coat in a luxury store? it randomly appeared in your closet when you got home. you said you love candles and flowers because they remind you of home? you’re getting new ones every week now.

sometimes in-ho would spoil you terribly to the point where you became frustrated. you had enough money to buy anything you wanted, you could handle yourself, so why was he buying everything for you? you asked him about it once, only receiving a ‘because i like to,’ a short and sweet answer, but not enough for you.

and when you don’t resent and keep bugging him, he suggests you take a deep breath and calm down. once you did and realized you shouldn’t have been overreacting, you apologized. he would always forgive you and place his hand on the back of your neck, kissing your forehead and mumbling, ‘that’s my good girl,’ never failing to warm your face up.

but it’s not as if he didn’t need reassurance too. of course, he denied craving it, however, you always saw through him. you noticed the way his eyes would shine when you would hold onto his bicep or kiss his cheek as he talked to someone. fuck, he loved it when you showed he was yours in public. you would shower him with compliments and talk so highly of your husband, pretending you don’t know it boosts his ego.

when he had time off and his life wasn’t revolving around the games, he was spending time with you at home. most of the time, your mornings and nights would be slow and sensual. as he was surrounded by the smell of corpses and blood, the sound of gunshots and screams, it was comforting to smell your shampoo and candles, and the sound of food sizzling on the stove and random shows playing on the television.

instead of waking up to loud screams and begging to leave, he would wake up hearing soft snores, your arms holding him tight. in the rare occasions when you would wake up before in-go, you would admire his features before running your hands through his hair, praising him once he started shuffling around, slowly waking up.

he was oh-so-sweet to you, treating you like a queen everywhere you stepped, worshipping the ground you walked on. whenever you talked or called your parents, they would always ask about your ‘sweet husband, in-ho,’ always saying how proud they are that you found a respectful man. however, they weren’t aware of how he acted when someone even looked at you the wrong way.

whether it was lustfully or rudely, he would always step in if someone tried to get physical or verbal. he knew you could handle and stand up for yourself, but he couldn’t help but protect you! you shouldn’t have had to tell someone to stop doing something multiple times, so he had to teach them a lesson.

like when the two of you were at a bar, celebrating his return from the games, he was in the bathroom for a few minutes when you felt unfamiliar hands on your waist. as your body ran cold and he whispered in your ear, trying to move his hands lower, you warned him with a couple of ‘stop’s. as he didn’t listen and you told him to take his hands off, suddenly, the head of the man moved away from your ear and smashed into the bar.

when you turned your head, your husband was biting the inside of his cheek, sharp eyes glaring at the man. once the unknown man tried to swing back, in-ho grabbed a glass and rammed it into the side of the blonde’s jaw, cutting up his cheek. as blood ran down his neck, he kept screaming, ‘what the fuck, man? you’re fucking crazy—‘ but in-ho ignored him, gently grabbing your arm and pulling you into a cab. he would ask if you were okay, checking up on you multiple times throughout the rest of your night.

in-ho protecting you was the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do.

the way he didn’t break a sweat and didn’t hesitate to hurt the man, made your cheeks warm. he was aware he could’ve gotten in trouble and could’ve gotten sent to prison for his actions, but he believed if that happened, it would be worth it. after that night, he began to show pda in front of many people, whether it was a simple arm around your waist or a passionate kiss. he wanted everyone to know you were his, and he was yours.

[earlysunshines]

flower girl

danielle marsh x fem!florist!reader

synopsis: you never expect much from your job at the flower shop but then the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on stumbles in

warnings: litcherslly none i don’t think anything rly ; very fluffy ; reader is awkward and loser and dorky ; danielle’s gorgeous and bubbly and cutesy and dorky too ; two dorky idiots that want each other i fear ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: my writing is so much worse now it’s actually so bad and this is bc i haven’t written in a bit but also haven’t been reading like anthrjng (other than textbooks for class)�� ooh.. ALSO heavily based off this song!!!

most people would assume that working at the towns flower shop is all sunshine’s and rainbows—the atmosphere is littered with beautiful arrangements, vibrant colors, and the gorgeous interior always has light seeping in through the windows just right. 

working at the flower shop would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that you were single. maybe if a lovely girl was waiting for you to clock out, ready to give you a soft kiss to the lips you’d enjoy your shifts more—but no. 

today isn’t different from the others. when is it ever? 

“babe, babeeee~” a girl whines in an uncomfortably high pitched voice that it makes you cringe a bit. your brows scrunch in a bit when you hear her, “pumpkin stop— haha— th-that tickles!” 

pumpkin? gosh, you might throw up into the flowers you’re fixing up. 

the couple that had walked in wasted no time getting all touchy and displaying the pda that no one asked for. 

(“no one” being you and only you because your manager is taking orders in the comfort of her office while you suffer out in the main area) 

the boyfriend pulls her closer, his chest pressing against her back as he peppers kisses on her neck, giggling like an idiot. you have to redirect your attention completely to block them from your peripheral, trying to endure only the sound now. 

“love bug, i can’t help it.” he tries to say quietly, but you’re the only people in the shop, making it increasingly difficult to put up with this. 

you sigh. the only way to get them to stop sooner is to go up to them, put on your customer service voice, flash a friendly smile, and hope for the best.

“hi! did you guys need any help with anything?” he’s still holding on to her when he looks over at you and nods. 

“yeah, yeah. just wanted to buy my girl some flowers. which ones are the prettiest? she likes pink.”

this job tests you everyday.

why would you buy flowers with her here? is it not usually a surprise? why are you using half of your singular braincell to think of a choice for your lover?

you criticize him knowing that he doesn’t really care what you give him, and judging by his tone—plus his ignorance and lack of interest for the vast options surrounding him—you could probably hand him polyester flowers and he wouldn’t think twice about the fact that they wouldn’t deteriorate at all in the next few years.

instead of giving in to your thoughts, your smile grows again. “right. well, a popular selection of pink flowers would be the classic rose bouquet, but we can also do a smaller bouquet of three.” you explain before poining across the shop to another arrangement. “and those are our tulips—another popular choice. as you can see, there’s a variety of colors, but depending on how many you need i’m able to provide a bouquet of pink.”

“okay, cool, cool.” he says, looking around. without thinking twice, he shrugs, then points to the roses. “i’ll take like, five? i don’t know how you do it. just pop ‘em in those little things so we can hold it and that should be it. it’s date night—need something nice for my girl.”

“oh stop it pumpkin… you’re so sweet.” the girl gushes, moving over to peck his lips.

your purse your lips into a forced smile, nodding at them. “right, i can hand you a bouquet of five. give me a few minutes.” 

they nod and offer a “thank you,” before going back to being all loving and everything that manages to make you throw up in your mouth. a groan leaves your lips as you get to work.

once you’re done, you hand the man the bouquet. “these are pretty fresh, so i’d say they’ll last a week if you care for them nicely. make sure the vase you store them in has clean water and whatnot.”

he nods and offers a friendly smile before giving the flowers to his girlfriend. she kisses him on the cheek and says thank you to him like this is the best gift in the world, but you beg to differ. you also don’t get paid enough to judge boyfriends doing the bare minimum, so you simply wave at them and say, “thank you for purchasing!”

once they leave, the comforting hum of your jazz playlist fills the silence. you’re left relieved. 

you sort out a few more flowers, pick up petals that fell on the ground, and clean up other messes from the day before the bell above the door rings.

a “welcome in!” leaves your mouth before you turn around to see who’s decided to stop by. you assume it’s a couple, or maybe the rare occasion that it’s someone elderly or the rarer occasion: a group of teenagers browsing around.

after fixing your hair, you turn around and are immediately met with pretty brown eyes that land right on your gaze.

a girl, the very pretty girl, looks around your age—probably a student like you. she lets the door close behind her and a small flush of wind brushes her hair across her face perfectly.

there’s a shiver that runs down your whole body. the way her lashes flutter when she blinks is like some sort of mind-blowing cinematic movie scene. she smiles, waving at you and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears which somehow renders you speechless.

“hi! how are you?” she greets. her voice is bright and cheery.

you’re already impressed considering no customer has asked how you were today—or at all this week.

(it’s only wednesday, but it still means something to you.)

you smile easily, not a forced one, a genuine smile.

“i’m doing well, and you?” 

“great now that i’m here,” she says, her eyes wandering around the mildly cluttered area. “it’s beautiful inside. must be nice working here, i bet.”

“it is.” you respond, “i never get tired of the scenery.”

“who would?” she says sweetly, her eyes molding into crescents as she smiles again. “i can’t believe i haven’t stopped by… i walk pass this place almost everyday.”

“is that so?”

“mhm,” she nods, “it’s on the way to my work.”

“well, feel free to stop by anytime—even if you’re not purchasing.” you assure, “can i help you with anything?”

she nods again. “i wanted to surprise my friend with flowers, but i wanted it to be special. i needed some expert opinions.”

dusting off your apron, you chuckle quietly, “i can help you with that. is there anything you have in mind?”

she shifts her gaze, the expression on her face that signature “i’m thinking” look—like in the movies but somehow more dorky. 

“my friend has a strong personality… something bright and vibrant would be good. it matches her.” she begins, then walks over to the marigolds and brushes her finger over a petal, “her birthday is in october, so i looked into her birth flowers too.”

“marigold,” you almost whisper, “you did your research?”

“she’s one of my good friends.” the girl shrugs. “i want to get her something meaningful.”

a warmth spreads through your body, maybe from relief and surprise since this is the first time anyone has put any thought into what they’ve asked you to arrange.

“that’s cute.” you smile, giggling lightly, “your friend is lucky to have you.”

she smiles back—you're unsure if the smile ever left but now she’s smiling at you like that and you could really care less—and you make your way over to some marigolds and cosmos. 

“i think, in my opinion, some fall colored flowers and her birth flowers would be good.”

“i trust you, miss…” she trails off, looking at your nametag, squinting at your handwriting, and meeting your eyes again. “miss y/n.” 

your name, from that voice of hers and that dorky grin, sends another shiver down your spine. 

“i’m glad you have that much faith in me.” you joke.

the girl walks around the shop while you fix up her bouquet. the shop isn’t too big, but enough to fit a wide variety of flowers, excluding the special exceptions that decorate the shop outside. occasionally you’ll glance over at her and she’ll be immersed in observing the flowers. she takes pictures, brushes her fingers over the petals, and appreciates them for the same amount of time until she’s decided to stop at the area where you arrange the gift for her friend.

she simply watches. there’s a curiosity that you catch in her eyes, they seem to add a slight sparkle. she watches until you’re finished with the bouquet, eyes on your nimble fingers fixing each petal and adjusting the position to be just right.

“there we go,” you mumble to yourself. you’re too busy eyeing the flowers from each angle to notice the smile of admiration on the girls lips.

you hand her the bouquet, dusting your apron off and fixing your rolled-up sleeves. she holds the bouquet without saying a word, just staring at you for a few seconds before she stops studying every feature on your face like it’s the last time she’ll see you.

“thank you so much. they’re so beautiful.” she says, sniffing the flowers lightly. “you’re so talented!”

“thank you.” you chuckle, “i’m just doing my job, really. i hope your friend likes them.”

you tap at the screen of the register in front of you, calculating the price of the bouquet and feeling yourself shrink in your spot at the feeling of her gaze. you can’t remember the last time someone made you this nervous—warm in the cheeks, fidgety with your fingers, and an idiot fighting back any awkward rambling. this girl manages to do it without trying and it’s awfully humiliating, but also embarrassingly exciting.

before you can tell her the total of her bouquet, she rids of any professionalism you have with one single comment.

“you smell really good.” she says, earning a raised brow from you. “i hope it’s not weird.” she laughs lightly and it works at easing the tension in your shoulders. you feel yourself relax as she continues, “you smell like… well considering you work here i guess flowers would make sense, but you smell like pear and something refreshing. it’s strong, but not too strong. it’s noticeable—but it’s nice! very nice. sorry.”

“i–” how do you even respond to that? your heart is in your throat because she’s flashing an awkward smile—maybe because she’s realized what she’s said or maybe because it’s just the two of you and the room squeezing in—you mirror her expression and bite the inside of your lip before responding, “it’s jo malone. thank you. i, i um, it was a gift from someone. i really like the way it smells. it pairs well with the jasmine.“

what were you even saying? you want to disappear right then and there right after you say it, but you don’t. you don’t because she’s giggling and pulling out her credit card that’s on her phone screen.

you gulp and add, “oh, yeah— um, your total is twenty-five dollars and seventy cents.”

“jo malone… expensive.” she says as she scans her card. “thank you for everything, by the way. they’re beautiful. i have to stop by again.”

“well, i’ll look forward to it.” the ounce of confidence you have in your body seems to spill from your lips and reach your eyes from the way you’re looking at her. your eyes narrowed just barely while simultaneously softening up just for her. “come by anytime.”

“thank you—” she glances at your nametag once more, then puts her hand on your forearm. you feel like you’re in a simulation and being toyed with, or worse: a romance movie and you’re the desperate fool who’s been chosen as the main character. “---y/n.”

she waves and you wave back, then leaves, making the doorbell ring and even that sounds like something from a movie. the bell has never rung that cheerfully.

—

on your way back home, and for the rest of the week, you think about the girl. you’re an idiot for not asking for her name, so you’ve resulted to calling her “flower girl” for the time being.

your friends are also on to you, catching you smiling to yourself out of nowhere. you tell them you were thinking about the events of the multiple corny couples stumbling into your work, the utter embarrassment you feel from witnessing their pda making you smile, but they never believe it.

if you ever told them about “flower girl,” they’d shred you to pieces—verbally, of course—and poke fun at you for at least a week or two. 

what makes it worse is that you’ve been smiling more and thinking more and hoping she’d come back into work, but she doesn’t. a week passes and she still doesn’t, but two days after your one week anniversary of meeting (your friends would seriously tease you to death for what you call it), she shows up again.

the bell rings differently than normal. your ears twitch and you turn your head to see her. your eyes meet hers and so does your smile.

“y/n!” she beams, “happy friday!”

“hi.” you try to sound calm, composed—anything to play cool and hide how delusional you are. “it’s nice to see you again. happy friday.” you greet, continuing on when the silence stretches on for a mere two seconds, “need another bouquet?”

“no, just wanted to browse.” she shrugs.

and so she does, walking around and even crouching to match her level with a few of the shorter flowers. you pretend to go back to work, tending to the flowers and whatnot, really anything to keep yourself from staring at her. 

“how have you been?” she asks out of nowhere, catching you by surprise as you water some dandelions. 

“oh, i’ve been uh, i’ve been good. and you?”

“great. my friend really liked the flowers, by the way.”

“i’m glad. i was really fond of that arrangement. i thought about it the whole week.” and her, you’ve been thinking about more than just that gorgeous arrangement you completely forgot to get a picture of. 

“really? wow, i’m so happy that you liked it as much as i did! gosh, it was so pretty and everyone we met up with was amazed by the vibrant colors and everything. i referred them to you.”

you laugh, fully facing her now after setting down the water can. “thanks for helping out the business. my boss will be thrilled.”

“i hope your boss knows they have the best on their team!”

you laugh again, stepping a little closer to the flowers in front of you. “i’ll let her know, i hope it’ll convince her if it comes from me.” you joke.

she giggles and asks you about the flowers next to her. they’re chrysanthemums, a beautiful shade of yellow. you tell her a brief summary of the meaning, how popular they are, and that there’s a shipment for a different shade. the girl focuses on you the whole time, you catch her eyes scanning each feature of your face unless you specifically point to the flower. you never thought your job would come with the stress of meeting a pretty girl at your workplace who’s oddly eager to talk to you.

“yeah, i really like chrysanthemums, my mom does too. they’re a nice flower, pretty popular.” you shrug, lightly brushing your pointer over the edges of a few petals.

“what are your favorites then?” the girl questions, tilting her head ever so slightly to display her curiosity.

“oh, um.” you think to yourself, then glance around the room. 

there’s way too many to count and so many that you admire—which is why you decided to take this part-time job. 

you respond with the first two flowers that come to your mind. “lilies and daisies, probably.” you nod.

the girl looks over at the lilies in the room, grinning as she says, “i see why. gosh, the one’s you have here are so pretty.”

“yeah, i take care of them extra nicely.” you admit.

“is that so? i might have to invest in some eventually.”

“i’ll make sure they’re well-kept then.”

“hopefully they’ll be as pretty as the person handling them.” 

you blink. a blush blooms over your cheeks and your heartbeat picks up. 

before you can respond, she brushes over her compliment and continues, “i really like sunflowers. they’re so pretty, and they’re a classic.” she looks over to the sunflowers near the window. “my friends always compare me to them too.”

“i’m not surprised.” you mutter, and she catches it. her brows raise ever so slightly as if she’s waiting for an explanation. you catch her eyes with yours again while nervously adding, “you’re bright and… nice to look at.”

you swallow shallowly in the next five seconds that pass by without any response from her. you’re hoping she doesn’t notice how you tense your jaw while you try to hold up the composed act, but it’s really hard to keep it up when her lips curl into an even wider smile of amusement.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

the door rings suddenly, though not in the cheery tune that follows after your “flower girl” walks in. a couple, one that’s showing way too much affection for your liking, stumbles in and looks around curiously. 

a soft sigh leaves your mouth and “flower girl” giggles. she places her hand on your forearm—light and brief, but you’re thinking about it real hard in the two seconds that it happens—then presses her lips together to suppress how giddy she is.

“i have to get going, and i believe you have more company?”

“yeah,” you nearly groan, “excuse me, i have to um, assist them.”

“alright.” she studies the subtle shift of your expression and nods. “i’ll see you again, y/n.”

“yeah, see you.” you respond, watching her brush past the couple and toward the door.

before you make your way to the couple, you pinch your eyes shut and bite the inside of your lip; you forgot to get her name again. 

—-

you catch a few of your friends for lunch after a particularly draining shift. there were multiple people that needed help with picking flowers, which wouldn’t have been odd if it weren’t for the fact that most of them were for birthdays.

(it just had to be everyone’s birthday that day—or week.)

sohee, one of your closest friends, sits in front of you and pretends to look innocent after stealing one of your fries. chaewon and soobin giggle at the playful punch you throw at his shoulder, which makes him groan with the stolen fry still in his mouth.

“ask nicely next time.” you warn.

“you’re such a hypocrite! you took the fruit gummies from my apartment literally last—”

“okay? are you saying you want me to be malnourished? wow…”

“but—

“no.” you quickly shut him down while simultaneously trying to fight back a laugh. “you’re a man, you can’t be doing all that.”

chaewon rolls her eyes at your antics, then steals a fry without a complaint coming from you. soobin chuckles and sohee looks at all of you defeatedly.

throughout the rest of lunch you all catch-up with what’s been going on through the week. sohee’s been trying to convince his roommate to invest in a mini-fridge and chaewon groans as she explains how she’s been considering taking an extra class the next semester.

and while soobin goes over his chaotic month, you start smiling to yourself as you accidentally tune out his voice. your thoughts shift over to your encounter with “flower girl” two days ago. 

it’s incredibly odd how you’re eager to clock in to work now. it’s not that you hated your job, you truly loved it, but the customers were always iffy. now, you have something to look forward to, someone to keep yourself going when it’s slow or dreadful on certain days. 

chaewon flicks your forehead, snapping you out of a replay of her hand on your forearm.

“what the hell are you smiling about?” she asks, “did you hear what soobin just said?”

“uh,” absolutely nothing had processed in the past minute. “sorry.”

soobin nudges your shoulder. “damn… so you hate me.”

“well, yes.” you joke. “sorry, ‘binnie, i was just… thinking about work.”

“i thought you hated your job…?” he responds.

sohee joins in, “yeah, you were just complaining to the group chat about a couple that forgot to stop making out when you came back with their bouquet.”

“oh my god, i forgot about that, ugh… and that was literally a month ago.” the memory makes you cringe. “and no i do not hate my job! i love it.”

“something is up then.” sohee says, pointing at you dramatically. “what’s up with work? did something happen? is this why you’ve been so… giddy?”

“giddy?” you try to laugh off his accusation. “it’s not— i– it’s nothing!”

“she stuttered,” chaewon points out.

“that doesn’t mean shit!” you groan, “i’ve just… okay, works been better. look, there’s this new regular. she’s kind of a regular.”

“oh my god, this girl must be cute then.” soobin chuckles, raising his brows at you. “what, you’ve got yourself some type of flower girl?”

you’re baffled that he somehow read your mind and matched frequencies enough to know that you also call her flower girl. you want to scold him for jumping to the conclusion that you’re happier at work because of a pretty girl—but he’s quite on point, so you can’t really defend yourself.

“oh my god she’s blushing,” sohee mumbles, laughing with chaewon.

“oh shut up i hate you guys.” you groan, “she’s just nice and actually talks to me. i mean yeah she’s gorgeous but that’s not even the point. she’s different than usual customers and… i guess it’s a nice change.”

“so you want her,” soobin says before sipping on his tea. “pretty girl vs. y/n and she’s already losing.”

“i—”

okay maybe he’s right, but you’d never admit that. 

the rest of lunch consists of you getting teased until the topic switches into chaewon talking about kazuha and sakura, who have apparently been way too loud when playing video games late at night. soobin, however, manages to throw in one more teasing comment before you all depart, which earns a few more remarks from chaewon throughout the car ride home.

“everything used to soil your mood,” soobin’s words replayed in your mind over and over, “seems like this ‘flower girl’ is making you bloom.” 

his words were corny mainly because it was him saying it, but he wasn’t wrong. and it doesn’t help that chaewon keeps telling you that she supports whatever you have going on, saying that you’re “not as cranky” and “smiling like an idiot all the time.”

you blush the whole way home thinking about her and it’s ridiculous. this girl that’s shown up twice has you malfunctioning even outside of work.

—

“y/n, could you grab the shipments from the back? i unloaded them, they just need to be restocked. it’s a few boxes, nothing much.” your boss asks. 

“yeah, sure.” you respond, immediately heading to the back and looking around for the boxes she mentioned.

you have exactly one hour until work ends and the only thing on your mind is a nice big lunch since you only had time to eat a banana for breakfast. you feel the energy leaving your body as you carry the boxes, guessing they’re mainly seeds and supplies for the bouquets. the boxes shfit and a subtle sound hints that there’s some pots for people who end up buying something to display their flowers.

with a light thud, you place the boxes on the counter in the front and find the box cutter nearby. just as you suspected—there are a few packets of seeds, tools, and pots inside that you pull out and start restocking.

but in the corner of your eye you catch two people conversing outside. you’d brush it off if it weren’t for the fact that one of them was flower girl, who’s talking to your boss while pointing at the tulips.

your heart beats faster in your chest and a surge of urgency to finish restocking.

you jump at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder not too long later. turning your head, you catch your manager grinning at you.

“hey, i’ve got the rest. there’s a customer that you should help.” she tells you, but the look in her eyes screams something mischievous.

you nod, setting the pot in your hand back into the box before turning to meet the same big brown eyes that never fail to light up your day.

“y/n!”

“flower girl,” you mutter, though very quietly, just under your breath. “hi,” you greet, clear and professionally.

“how are you?” she asks, and it flows like last time; conversation with her is light and easy to ease into.

you tell her it’s a little slower today considering it’s tuesday, and you even drop a little “i’m glad you’re here to keep some brief company,” which earns a smile and a “i find stopping by the highlight of my week, it’s nothing.”

now you’re both trying not to blush and it’s impossible. it’s impossible because you notice that shade of blush she has on matches the carnations that you had to fix up yesterday. and on her end, she can’t help but notice that your hair is a little messier than usual, which adds to how cute she thinks you are.

you two converse in between her questions about flowers. she finds your anecdotes about each and every one interesting, interesting enough that she asks,

“hey, what are you doing later today?”

the question catches you off guard. “oh, um. probably nothing… maybe i’ll go on a walk or visit a friend… i don’t know… why do you ask?”

you can’t curb the blush that heats your face, so you pray it’s not noticeable.

“well, i’m off today and my schedule is pretty empty… i was hoping you’d let me pencil you in?”

you giggle at her response, hoping your manager doesn’t hear any of it because she’s also one to tease you like crazy.

“i’d… yeah, i’d like that.” you sound like an idiot. your mind runs in circles and your heart beats faster than it usually does—even faster than the time she (you’d hope) flirted with you. “i um, i get off in less than an hour… i hope you don’t mind waiting.”

she bites the inside of her lip and it feels like it’s just the two of you in the shop, with daisies sprouting around (metaphorically speaking, of course) to feed the fire that burns in your chest. 

“that’s perfect. do you like sandwiches?”

“i love them.”

“perfect. there’s a place not too far that i love—”

“down the block near the park?”

“yes! how did you—?”

“i go there all the time.” wow, this is perfect, you think to yourself. “we could grab lunch… maybe walk around…?”

she laughs and your whole body relaxes. 

“you’re really cute, you know?”

“i think you’re cuter.” you say without thinking. “and i feel unbelievably stupid that i’ve been calling the cute girl that stops by every week ‘flower girl.’ my friends keep teasing me because i never got your name.”

“you talk to me about your friends?’ she questions with a growing smirk.

“i— maybe.” 

“well, i’m glad i’m not the only one.”she breaks eye contact to look at the ground bashfully. “my friends have been… trying to help me build up the courage to ask you out.”

“really?”

“mhm.” she nods.

“well, i’d love to tell my friends more about you…” you trail off, remembering that you don’t even know her name.

“if i give you my name… would you give me your number?” she asks cheekily.

you chuckle. “i’ll consider it.”

her hand brushes the petal of a flower nearby—a pink hibiscus—before saying, “my name is danielle.”

“danielle,” her name trickles off your tongue with curiosity and wonder. her name isn’t uncommon, but it’s beautiful and a perfect fit for someone bright like her.

her smile grows along with yours.

“i guess i should give you my number then, danielle.” you test the way her name sounds coming from you and are just as content the second time around. it’s better than flower girl, but that’s not stopping you from calling her that again and again in the future.

“i’d need your number just in case i want to see you again,” she says with a light-hearted, teasing tone. “just in case you charm me well enough.”

“i’ll do my best then, flower girl.”

[sleepiedahlia]

HIS WINGS

FEATURING: LUCIFER,MAMMON,ASMODEUS,BEELZEBUB,DIAVOLO,SIMEON

TW: some suggestive things in some but mostly fluff:)

HIS WINGS (YOU ARE HERE)|HIS TAIL

LUCIFER

-it would take a while for him to show you his wings let alone touch them

-but when he does please be gentle! and make sure it's in private because his pride will get destroyed

-but his wings have this soft feeling and they look very clean from all the care he puts into them

-later on he'll let you help preen them because four wings is a lot for one person

-but it's also a way for him to show how much he loves you and it's good bonding time too!

-his most sensitive place with his wings is where his wings meet with his back

-he really likes when you take your time with each wing because to him it shows you care and are willing to put the time in to help

-and sometimes at night when he lets his wings unravel and let them be out he'll wrap them around you when you cuddle with him

-and the same goes when your in bed too when in the heat of the moment he'll wrap his wings around you to pull you in closer to him

MAMMON

-like lucifer it would take him a bit to let you see his wings but not as long though

-his wings have a leathery feel to them and the ends of his wings like the spikes almost feel like plaster but a little stronger

-he may not put that much care since there not feathery either but he still cleans them once in a while, enough to look like he cleans them more often then he does

-he does let you touch them often though after he gets used to you which is pretty quick and he also likes the attention when you touch them

-his most sensitive area would be then end of his wings

-a lot of times when you cuddle he will also keep them wrapped around you

-his wings are also very useful in the hot summer because he can move his wings around to give cool air:)

ASMODEUS

-he will just ask you to touch them straight up after a week of knowing each other

-his wings look leathery but they don't feel like it they kind of feel like a thin blanket but that still feels really nice

-he will not let anyone else touch his wing except you, he can't have his pretty wings dirty and who know where other demons hands have been!

-he definitely has his wings out around you and he has special masks for his wings to keep them the way they are

-when he cuddles with you it's him laying his head on your chest and his wings wrapping around your waist and his hands around your neck

-he also has his wings out in bed too because he likes to use them to toy with you when your under him

-or it's a situation with you on top and his wings keeping you close by wrapping them around your waist

BEELZEBUB

-he refrained from showing his wings as well because of his sensitive they are and how easily they could get teared up because of how close they are to bugs wings

-but when he does he warns you on how sensitive they are but he will let you touch as much as you want as long as he trusts you

-again his wings are closed related to a flys wings or a bugs wings so they are very thin so they could easily rip apart

-he sometimes has his wings out but not often but he won't cuddle with them out either

-but if you like insect anatomy he will gladly let you look at them to study if you wanted!

DIAVOLO

-so help lucifer if he ever saw you touch diavolos wings he would about be in his grave

-but diavolo would love when you touch his wings!

-his wings are like mammons and feel like leather but around the spikes of his wings feel like silicone or plaster

-he would love if you decorated his wings with things that match him

-but his wings have a decorative shape on the base of his back that goes up his wing and like lucifer where his wings meet his back is his most sensitive place

-he'll cuddle with his wings around you like a protective sheild

-it's a 50/50 if he had them out in bed it's not a total yes or no but when he does he uses them to fan you firming it to cool you both down

SIMEON

-you would have to ask first but you must wash your hands with holy water before touching, ever touch had to be pure

-his wings aren't to sensitive but his wings feel soft and silky every time you touch them

-sometimes his wings feel like a really fuzzy blanket so they are nice to lay on if you have trouble sleeping

-he will let you preen them but again wash your hands with holy water and after you finish cleaning he puts some holy water on his wings

-he will gladly have them out around you and he would love to cuddle you with his wings and the hugs are literally heaven too because his wings are so soft

-he will never have them out in bed his wings need to be pure he needs to feel pure when doing the do

@SLEEPIEDAHLIA

- PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK! BUT PLEASE ADD CREDIT IF YOU USED MINE AS A REFERENCE FOR A POST! PLEASE AND THANK YOU! -

[eleu22]

just some random task force 141 headcanons

tw: drugs, dead baby jokes?

gaz

- has been approached by model scouts on nights out with the 141 and is so gassed by it but pretends not to be

- got holding onto his tactical vest straps from price because he thought it looked cool

- popular as fuck in school

- side eye king (canon)

- used to do ket when he was younger and is now paranoid price will find out somehow and be disappointed in him

- highlights during briefings and soap calls him a neek

- deleted tiktok because he got addicted to those ingrown hair removal videos

- borderline illegible handwriting

- type to laugh when hes really mad (its lowkey scary)

- has once described himself as a “thought daughter”

- paces when hes stressed

- terrys chocolate orange enjoyer

- tried to grow out a beard but it was weird and kind of patchy

soap

- will be looking at a nice view and will always say how a huge explosion would make it look so much cooler

- does that thing where he tells you to straighten your legs and then kicks the back of your knee

- cannot stay still in his sleep and has once woken up with half is body off the bed horizontally

- has a comic book collection and if you touch it he will kick you out

- goes to life drawing classes sometimes in his free time

- all of his exam papers had doodles on them

- the type of guy to draw a penis in ur notebook

- all of his socks have holes in them but refuses to buy new ones, some are literally the concept of a sock at this point

- smells his armpits unabashedly to see if he smells or not

- will ask to tell you a secret and burp in your ear

- when someone drops like a plate or a cup is the type to scream “wheey!!” and clap and he did that at a pub once and got them kicked out

- will make a fart noise and loudly blame it on you (especially in packed elevators)

-booger flicker

ghost

- makes zero noise when sneezing but still acts it out and he looks like hes bugging

- nose bridge pincher

- doesn’t clip off his fingernails he literally just bites them off and spits it into the bin

- type to say “well done.” sarcastically

- casual dead baby joke enjoyer

“how many babies does it take to paint a wall?”

“depends on how hard you throw them.”

(silence)

- really enjoys solitaire mobile is on level 177

- he once made a recruit run laps for microwaving tea

- off duty he has terrible posture

- chapped lips 24/7

- favourite takeout is chinese food and always get the vegetable spring rolls - he will buy takeout in bulk and then live off of leftovers instead of actually buying groceries

- has 3 forks one knife and one spoon

- has literally no sense of rhythm what so ever , cannot dance to save his life

- loves making social situations awkward in purpose but would never admit that so he just comes off as slightly off putting a lot of the time

price

- sneezes and coughs ridiculously loudly

- weirdly territorial about his hat (i find it so funny he has a waterproof version of it)

- has a weird mole on his back he refuses to get checked out - his reasoning is if he dies via mole it was natural selection

- has extensive knowledge on art history and hates conceptual art (has a tate membership card)

- licks his finger before turning a page

- casual moomin enjoyer

- cuts his cuticles - likes his maintenance has a beard grooming kit

- says he doesnt watch tiktoks but he watches tiktok dog video complications in youtube and they have the most npc ass audios

- is on the “cigar society” on facebook and gives reviews for them

- does the head tilt of disappointment (if its thrown at gaz he literally will not get over it for days)

- slaps his knee when laughing really hard

- also nose bridge pincher

- is the type of make those hiking comments to people who walk by

- really enjoyed the lego batman movie

- unabashedly itches himself

- takes fish oil supplements

- always puts his hand up to say thank you when cars stop for him

- flirts with baristas

- had a brief midlife crisis where he wanted to become a mystery novelist (still has the drafts hidden somewhere but you couldn’t waterboard that information out of him)

thank you

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

halfway there (fully smitten)

written for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween pop up event!

rated G | 2,832 words | on AO3: halfway there (fully smitten) | prompt: half-o-ween meet cute, modern au, flirting, steve harrington is simultaneously super charming and on his game AND easily flustered

Steve would do anything for his kid siblings.

He would.

It’s just…

“Why’d it have to be this Saturday?”

“Because that’s the halfway mark?” Dustin says as if it was obvious, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Oh you’ve got to–” Steve scrubs a hand down his face; Yeah. fine. That makes sense. It is called the ‘Halfway to Halloween’ craft fair. “You don’t even like crafts.”

“There’s going to be more than just crafts.” Dustin says, again, like it should be obvious. “C’mon Steve, even Max wants to go. Like, actually wants to go.”

Steve looks over at the Max in question, gazing up at him with her usual scowl on her face.

“She doesn’t look like she wants to.”

“Yes she–”

“She does.” she says.

“See??” Dustin gestures excitedly towards her.

Steve sighs again. Of course she’d want to go, she’s always been all about that spooky crap.

He looks down between the two hellions he’s so proud to call his siblings.

Internally.

Internally he is.

He sighs again, turning away from where they’d corralled him at the end of the hallway.

“C’mon Steve where’re you–”

“I gotta call Angie,”

“But–”

“I have to call off our date, dingwad!"

Dustin insisted that they be there right when the fair opened at 10 am, but after a syrup incident at breakfast and a couple bathroom breaks, their two hour drive to the 4H grounds the show was being held at, turned into two hours and 45 minutes, landing them in line at 10:10 am.

They waited their turn to pay the entrance fee, Dustin bouncing on his toes the whole time, and as soon as the bright orange bracelet was on his wrist, he was off. 

Surprising Steve further, Max was right on his heels, scanning seriously over the first line of vendors.

“You shits better have your phones on you!” Steve calls after them, getting offhanded waves in return.

He watches them go a little on ahead, sliding between the already hearty crowd much easier than he would, then turns to look at some of the vendors’ wares himself.

It was not a great place to start paying attention, to be completely honest, the racks and tables filled with all sorts of stuffed animals with bloody gashes, exposed broken bones, and dangling bloodshot eyes..

His shock must’ve been fully apparent because the bearded man behind the stall table guffaws at his expression.

“S’not for everyone, kid. I get it.” he says when Steve apologizes.

There are people selling their collections of movie memorabilia, specialty indie costume companies selling their scarily (ha) detailed rubber masks, some folks are selling crystals, some are selling crochet, some have tiny taxidermied mice..

It’s honestly kind of overwhelming.

He stops at one end of this barn (the second in the grounds’ row of five that were full up for the occasion), leaning up against the open double doors.

He’d originally been concerned about the cool cloudy weather, thinking it’d be too cold to be walking around outside like this, but a lot of vendors had space heaters plugged in behind their booths, and there were so many people bustling through and around the space that the wide open doors were a blessing to his already sweating brow.

Taking advantage of his spot out of the flow of people, he opens his phone to check on where the gremlins were (two barns down already what the hell??), when Dustin’s text comes through.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues on.

The next booth he comes to is another with taxidermied things, though these are all bugs. Different beetles, bees, and butterflies pinned into shadow boxes.

For some reason, he gets kinda stuck at the display of colorful wings. He’s never really liked bugs, never had a strong opinion about butterflies, but these things are… seriously beautiful.

Some he remembers the names for without having to look at the little tags the vendor wrote up for them; Monarch for one, and he knows this blue one is an Emperor Butterfly from that Animal Crossroads game Max got him hooked on for a while a couple years ago, and he’s inspecting the pattern of greens and oranges on another when he feels someone brush up against him.

Suddenly aware of how long he’s been standing in front of the display, probably blocking a whole bunch of others from getting to look too, he glances back, stepping out of the way with a “Shit, sorry!”

“No worries man, I can look just fine from right here.”

Steve’s busy looking down at his feet to make sure he’s stepping around the boxes stored under a nearby display table, “No, really, I just got caught up looking at them;” he finally gets his feet in a safe spot, and turns to the newcomer, “They’re all really–”

He’d made the mistake of looking up at the source of the voice, and now his own is stuck in his throat.

Steve’s a sucker for all things 80s, the aesthetic (a new word introduced to him by Max) at least, and this guy looked as if he was plucked right out of time and delivered to him on a shiny silver platter.

A mess of dark frizzy curls, deep dark eyes, ripped skinny jeans and some sort of band tee under a leather jacket and denim vest..

Even the sun decided to point out how much of a simp he was about to be over this guy, choosing that moment to break through the clouds outside the doors and give hot 80s metal guy a hell of a glow.

“--pretty.”

Hot Metalhead smirks and ohjesusfuckingchristhehasdimples.

“You’re not too bad yourself, big boy.” the man says, and Steve swears he can feel the other man’s gaze trail over him. “You got a favorite?”

He gestures back to the display of bugs, and Steve shakes his head clear, “Uh.. The orange one maybe, the Monarch? But this one is really cool.” he points to the green/orange one.

Hot Metalhead nods, “The Madagascan Sunset Moth, that one’s my favorite.” then he levels a smirk at Steve, “Seems you’ve got good taste, pretty boy.”

Something kicks to life behind Steve’s ribs, and suddenly he feels completely back on his game. He slowly drags his gaze over the other man, lingering on his lips (chapped, but perfectly pouty even in their smirk), “Seems like I do.”

Steve meets the man’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something else when they’re broken from the moment by none other than Max.

“There you are! Do you ever check your phone?” she gripes, pulling him out of the booth

“What–Max?” A rock sinks into his stomach, “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help picking something for Lucas,” she puts her hands on her hips and it’s like he’s looking in a mirror.

The rock rolls out his stomach with the roll of his eyes, and turns to say something to Hot Metalhead, but he’s already a couple booths away, bending low over a table of books.

“You can flirt later, I really need your help!”

Sighing, but figuring he can find Hot Metalhead later, he follows Max to a bigger movie memorabilia booth in the center of the next barn over.

Eventually, they settle on two gifts for Max’s “He’s not my boyfriend nor do I want him to be.” boyfriend (“He’s not my boyfriend, Steve! Urgh, you’re the worst.”): a Freddy Krueger sweater, and a jersey boasting the Haddonfield Butchers, with the last name Myers and number 78 on the back.

“Are you sure that’s not secretly for you?” Steve asks, clocking the reference immediately. He had, afterall, been made to sit and watch Halloween close to a zillion times over the course of he and Max’s foster journey together.

“No, it’s for him. It's something I like fused with what he likes." She reasons.

“Sure, sure,”

Max wanders off again after that, and so does Steve, scanning the crowd for messy brown curls as he scans the other vendors.

Eventually, he comes to a booth covered in pins and earrings. 

He immediately thinks of Ms. Hender– Claud— Mom when he sees all the earrings, and starts looking through the spinning racks, snapping a picture to send to the goblins as he does

“Find something you like?”

Steve glances up, one of the two ladies manning the booth has stood from her chair, the strawberry blond with the ponytail, smiling brightly at him. A pair of cigarette earrings hang from her lobes, one new and one half burnt down.

“Yeah, sorry, I was sending a picture of these to my siblings,” he picks up the fangs, “Our mom would love these.”

The woman holds out a hand and he passes the set to her, “Awesome, let me get them bagged up for you!”

“Do you want a different color?” The other woman says, looking through a basket of what looks like even more pairs of earrings; she’s a dirtier blond with a choppy bob and freckles.

“Another color?”

“Y’know, black, orange, purple, glow in the d–” that’s when she looks up at him, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve’s brain goes into a jumbled state of ???????????

“Uhm, yeah? How’d you–”

“You went to my high school!”

A rock plunges into his gut, “Oh, uhm.. I’m sorry? I don’t–”

“You dated Tammy Thompson.”

He feels his face pull into a cringe, “Yeah, that was… yeah.”

“She was on American Idol!” the strawberry blond says.

Steve finds himself laughing, “I don’t know how she made it, she sounds like a muppet when she sings.”

“She does!” She laughs at the same time Choppy Bob says an indignant “She does not!”

The rock is back, “Oh, sorry.. Was she a friend?”

Ponytail laughs again, saying “No,” at the same time as Bob but continuing on with “Robin here had a biiiig crush on her.”

 Bob, Robin apparently, goes all splotchy, “Shut up Chris!”

Chris just waves her off, “Oh he’s fine, he’s one of us, did you not see his pin?”

Steve looks down at his own chest, Max’s gifted bi flag pin glinting up at him from his jacket, then back up at the two; the lanyard around Robin’s neck jumps out at him, striped in pinks and oranges and whites, and Chris has what looks like one half of a heart in colors matching his pinned to her sweater.

“Huh.” Robin says, looking perplexed, “Who’da thunk?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve jokes, finally getting Robin to smile back at him.

Suddenly, and at the same time another potential customer comes into the little stall behind him, Dustin comes out of the woodwork to tug at his arm, “Finally, there you are! Stop flirting and come with me, you gotta see these cars!”

“Whoa, dude! Chill out for a second, okay? I’m trying to pay the nice lady.”

“Well hurry it up dude,” he mocks, “They’ve got the Ghostbusters’ hearse back there!”

Dustin squeezes very impolitely past the other person in the booth, and Steve turns back to Chris, “Sorry, brothers you know?”

“He’s got a point, the Ghostbusters one is pretty impressive,” She says as Robin accepts his $10 bill for the jewelry, and passes him back a small bag and a card, “I wrote our cell numbers on the back, we should all meet up again sometime!”

“Course! I’ll let you know how my mom likes ‘em, yeah?”

Steve squeezes out the stall and Chrissy picks up her phone. 

Dustin was right (what’s new?), this last building is packed full of hearses of every shape and size. 

A 1940s era one, a slightly newer model painted entirely in matte black, one with a padded coffin hanging half out the end for people to pose for pictures in. But the real star of the show, at least according to Dustin, was the one for one remake of the Ghostbusters’ white one.

Steve follows him down the row, pausing at the hood of the replica to take a picture of the giant slime ghost plush in the passenger seat, then on to peer into the cab.

He was still inspecting all the old dials in the dash through the open window, when someone says, “See something you like?”

“I was told by a very reliable source that yours was the one to beat.” Steve says, taking in the shockingly low number of miles on the odometer, “And I gotta say, still having the original dials in the dash is pretty cool– Hey! It’s you!” 

The guy leaning his weight onto the car’s roof with one hand grins, “Hello again, your majesty.”

“Majesty?”

 “You liked the Monarchs, remember?” Hot Metalhead pushes himself up off the car and offers Steve the same hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Steve.” he breathes, taking Eddie’s hand in his. 

Eddie shakes his hand once, his fingers calloused and warm, “Well, King Steve, what brings you all the way to my neck of the woods?”

“I heard there was a super special hearse back here so I had to come see it for myself.”

“Good eye, Stevie”

“Only if it’s easy on ‘em.” he says, starting to get his normal voice back, “‘Easy on the eyes’ y’know?”

Eddie just laughs, “Yeah big guy, I got it.”

Steve’s face is on fire. He clears his throat, finally letting Eddie’s hand go. He notices a familiar pin on the front breast pocket of his denim vest that he hadn’t noticed before, this one striped in shades of blue, green, and white, the opposite half of Chris’ pink, purple, and blue one.

“Oh, hey! You know Chris?” Eddie's face flashes into confusion, so Steve clarifies, “She’s got the same half heart pin as you…?”

“Chrissy you mean? Tiny? Ponytail? Bangs?”

Steve shrugs, “That sounds right.”

“Has a girlfriend about yay tall? Freckles?”

“I mean, she didn’t stand up..”

Eddie considers him for a moment. “Nope. Never heard of ‘er.”

Oh god he’s a dork.. Steve’ll never survive this.

“D’she send you over here?”

“Kinda? Dustin wanted to see the cars anyhow so..” he holds his arms out at his sides, “Here I am.”

“So this curly-haired menace is yours then?” Eddie asks, turning to stand at Steve’s side and gesturing to where Dustin is talking with a balding man at the end of the car, “He’s been talking my Uncle’s ear off each time he’s come by.”

Steve nods, “Him and the redhead who���s… around here somewhere– there!” He points out Max as she heads outside into the sun, making her hair glow bright, “She’s my foster sister, Dustin’s mom took us both in about a year ago now, she was really great to take us in together, even with me being ‘aged out’ and all.. I wanted to make sure she had something stable going forward y’know? And I really don’t know why I’m telling you all that but.. There it is..”  

His face is going to be permanently red at this point, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind his rambling, looking at him with a mix of amusement and something else in his expression. “You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want, Stevie.”

“Is that your way of asking for my number?” Steve asks on impulse.

Eddie laughs, “You give me way too much credit Stevie, I’m not even remotely close to that good of a smooth-talker,” he reaches into his back pocket and produces his phone, “But no way am I passing up the opportunity.”

Steve smiles and takes it, entering his information into Eddie’s phone, “Apologies to your uncle by the way,” he says as he sends himself a devil face emoji from Eddie’s cell, “Dusty can get to be too much sometimes. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble?”

He hands back the phone as his own chimes in his pocket, taking it out and passing it to Eddie.

“Not at all; Wayne’s more than happy to talk about anything to anyone who’ll listen; He’s already told me everything he knows.”

“Don’t you mean ‘taught’?”

“Not in the slightest.” Eddie grins at Steve’s laughter, punches something into his phone and passes it back. “There you go, big boy, one brand new phone number just for you.”

Steve looks down at the screen, ‘super hot sexy metal deathlord eddie 😈🤘’ is at the top of his message screen.

He looks up at Eddie, who just waggles his eyebrows at him; Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t keep himself from smiling. “Perfect, thanks.”

“No problem…” he mimes looking down at his phone, “‘steve’.”

“Oi! Can you two flirt your way to the gut trucks, or are Dusty and I gonna have to get some grub ourselves?”

The two jump apart at Wayne’s words, both their cheeks burning (brighter in Eddie’s case).

“Yeah, yeah, shut your yaps, we’ll go get something.” Eddie grumbles, striding off toward where the food trucks are parked, pulling Steve along with him.

if you don't have one around you at this time, this is a real thing that happens in my area every may!! and it's on the 10th this year!! all of the things mentioned are things i've seen at my fair; my own pair of vamp fang earrings are truly a favorite pair of earrings i own :o) spiderweb divider from @saradika-graphics! vampire earring pic is from this etsy listing!

there will also be a part 2 to this tomorrow, LINK HERE!

[mediumgayitalian]

Will was very young the first time he dreamt of his dad.

"So," said a blond man in a white dress that was Too Short and teeth so straight they were off-putting. "How goes it, kiddo?"

Will was aware he was dreaming. He always was. But he had never quite been capable of pushing his way out of these dreams, so he was as good as stuck. He looked the man up and down.

"Are you a MLM salesman?" he asked, which he at the time felt was a reasonable question.

The MLM salesman looked affronted.

"I am living sunlight," said the man, perfectly straight nose wrinkled in offense.

"Living Sunlight," Will had mused, itching a mosquito bite on his ankle. He straightened and rocked back on the worn heels of his favorite sneakers. Only one side still lit up, but that worked for him. "I've never heard of that one. Is it Vitamin D supplements?"

The salesman sputtered. "Will, I -- I'm your father?"

Will froze in quiet awe, perking up like a watered flower.

"My time has come," he whispered.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth that the salesman stomped one sandaled foot, squeezed his fists, and hollered, at the top of his lungs, "Do not compare me to any character in that no-good loser's movies!" He spit on the ground beside them. Or, well, not really. Metaphysically. "George Lucas is a disgrace to the name of linguistic arts! He has written the worst dialogue known to man! He made Natalie Portman look robotic!"

Will disagreed on principle.

But he inclined his head, because, well. Fair. He did indeed do that.

"The art of the whole thing is the implications," Will said haughtily. He waved a hand the way he'd seen some of his Mama's critics do at shows. "The grander themes and nuances of Star Wars are deliberately left to viewer's thoughtful interpretations." He nodded, once. For emphasis.

The man -- his father, allegedly, but Will had his doubts -- Mama would crush this guy like a bug -- and Will has issue being related to someone so annoying, already -- sighed, and then shook his head.

"Maybe I mixed you up," he mused. He glanced down and frowned. "Are you actually one of Athena's ilk? Mine aren't usually…like this. More cool than straight geek, generally, which the exception of band dorks."

He leaned down -- far down, Will scowled, not fair; if this man is his father this better mean he will be tall -- and squinted.

"You don't look much like me yet," he observed. "I'm not quite so spotty."

"You're an asshole," Will informed him hotly. To his frustration, however, the stupid spots in question were not quite on board with his attempted nonchalance, and begun, as they always do when he's mad, to glow. Like little pinpricks in a window shade. "How do you sell scammy supplements if you're an asshole?"

"Hm," continued the asshole. He had nice hair, which was a third thing about him Will hated on principle. Thick and wavy and fell to his shoulders in nice ringlets. Held off his forehead by some kind of leather headband. What a douche. "Your mother is Naomi Solace, yes?"

"What are you, a cop?" Will said, which is what his mother had trained him to say in response to that question. But if this guy is a cop then Will is an elephant, so he gave up and answered: "Yes, but that's none of your business."

"…She bisexual? Coulda been a double night for her, I suppose. Can't blame her."

Will blinked. "What's that?"

Salesman Loser Dad blinked. "Uh," he said, and continued to flounder. It was a foreign look on him, so Will found it amusing. He counted three entire minutes of stuttered non-explanations and hand gestures.

"Dudes," Salesman Loser Dad managed, eventually, waving a manicured hand. "And women. You know?"

Will squinted at him in much the same way he squinted at raccoons during mating season attempting to seduce a fencepost.

"Both," finished the man eventually. "Both is good."

"Well, duh," said Will, continuing to look at him oddly. "How are you ever meant to choose?"

Salesman Loser Dad barked out a delighted laugh. "Alright!" he crowed, throwing a hand over Will's shoulders and recovering quite gracefully when Will picked it up by the middle finger and removed it not unlike one would a dead snake. "You are mine!"

"I have met you one sum total times," Will noted. "Any attempt to claim custody on your end is laughable by any reasonable court of law."

"Two," dismissed his alleged father. "I said hello to you at a bar that one time. Remember?"

Will did not remember. Will also knew that telling people who frequent bars that you do not remember seeing them in one is generally a Bad Plan -- another lesson from his mother -- so he said nothing at all. Alleged Absenteer was too wrapped up in his own rambling story to notice.

"Anyways," he continued. Will avoided correcting him on the correct use of the term 'anyway' because he is taking these special classes at school called Fitting In With Your Peers -- What You Should Know and has been advised that constantly correcting people may come off as 'combative' or perhaps even 'bitchy'. "Just came to drop by and introduce myself. Figured you should know your old man so you know who to pray to when you make it to camp!"

Adults do this thing where they say a sentence that is entirely incomprehensible without decades of general life experience and then get mad when you don't get half of it. Will, well used to adult bullshit -- his mother is excellent at pointing it out to him -- did not bother worsening this issue. He just nodded , and filed it away in the mental compartment in his brain labelled 'Problems for Future Will (Sorry)'.

He also refrained from mentioning that his father in question did not introduce himself, and Will remained, still, after suffering all this, ignorant of his name.

Another folder in the compartment. Fun times for Future Him.

"I'll be seeing you around," said his dad with a wink, spinning away from his personal space. He skipped off to the distance with a backwards wave and an honest-to-Jesus "Toodleloo!" which would be funny if Will were not stuck watching him prance away.

"There's no way," he said to himself, after a good twenty minutes, hands crossed over his chest. He shook his head, and then again for good measure. His mom's a deeply cool person. She has a cool butterfly tattoo and two ear piercings and everything. She wouldn't do that to herself. "Nah. This is my brain making things up for the drama of it all."

He turned in the opposite direction of the figment of his imagination and walked until he woke up again. He didn't bother mentioning his dream to his mother. In fact, he forgot about it entirely.

Until two years later, when he sat awake on a cot in the Hermes cabin, staring at a half-faded mural of the gods on the poster-cluttered wall. He glared at a salesman-looking guy who's horribly good hair peeked between a poster of Al Capone and a framed Cease and Desist.

"Fucker," he muttered to himself, and ignored it when someone sighed and muttered about the mutiny rehabilitation package again.

-- -- --

for @willsolaceweek day 5 -- will and his dad

[leesleelee]

hiii,first of all i wanted to say that I LOVE the way you write and i'm a huge fan of your works, and also I'm so glad you write x male reader because I love this kind of fanfics but they're so rare to find.

I wanted to request a Steve x male reader where steve doesn't know how to first approach the reader, oh and also i'd like the reader to be the cool dustin's brother (it would be awesome for them to interact).

i don't know if I was clear but enflish is not my first language i'm sorryyy.

anyways i don't actually care that much if you take my request as long as you pubblic a new fanfic because I NEED it.

thank you anyways

Atlas <3

p.s. I thought it would be cool and romantic to put my name at the end lol

Mixed reviews.

Steve Harrington x Henderson! Male reader.

Steve Harrington never expected to catch feelings for Dustin’s older brother — cool, calm, and completely unreadable. With help (and heckling) from Robin, Eddie, and Nancy, Steve tries to figure out how to make a move… without totally embarrassing himself.

CW: Slow burn romance, light swearing, identity exploration, Dustin.. being Dustin, soft and emotional vulnerability.

Word count: 3,414

Steve Harrington’s having one of those weeks.

Eddie wants to brainstorm a new campaign and keeps calling him “Himbo Bard” like it’s a compliment. Robin’s insisting he needs to stop flirting with girls he doesn’t actually want to date. And Nancy—well, Nancy has been giving him these little looks, the kind that make him wonder if she still sees parts of the old him.

The lost, trying-too-hard version. He doesn't like that.

So when Dustin asks him to pick him up for Hellfire after school, Steve jumps at the chance. Something easy. Something familiar.

He pulls up in front of the Henderson house right as the afternoon heat starts to melt into golden haze.

Hawkins is sticky this time of year—quiet, bugs humming, the air heavy with that particular scent of cut grass and nostalgia.

The kind of day that feels like a movie just before something changes.

Steve taps the steering wheel, sunglasses on, waiting.

The front door swings open like a storm. Dustin comes charging out with his bag half-zipped, curly hair frizzed up like he’s been running around since lunch. He's shouting back into the house, voice high-pitched with indignation.

“I told you, I don’t need a jacket! I’m not gonna freeze to death in a temperature-controlled room, Mom!”

Steve leans out the driver’s side window. “You fightin’ the entire climate again?”

Dustin flips him off without looking. “I’m fightin’ oppression.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, tell oppression to zip your backpack before it explodes.”

But Dustin isn’t listening anymore. He’s already shouting again, this time toward the side of the house.

“Y/N! You coming tonight or what?”

Steve leans forward a little, curious. He’s heard Dustin mention his brother in passing—a few stories here and there. You were older.

Did something with music. Liked “weird art films” and refused to help Dustin cheat on his algebra homework even when begged.

But he’s never actually seen you.

Not until now.

You’re perched at the edge of the porch, a slim book in one hand and a can of soda sweating in the other. You’ve got sunglasses on even though the sun’s already starting to dip.

Your legs are kicked out in front of you, ankles crossed lazily, and there’s a pair of over-ear headphones hanging around your neck, one side still slightly playing a muted drum beat.

You don’t look up right away. You just keep reading, flipping a page with your thumb.

“Y/N!” Dustin yells again, hands on his hips like a mom at the end of her rope.

Finally, you glance up. Slowly. Like you’re weighing whether it’s even worth the energy.

“Didn’t Blake bail on work again?” you ask, voice quiet but distinct. Calm. Kinda raspy, like you’d just woken up or maybe didn’t care enough to pretend.

“Probably!” Dustin calls back. “But you said if he flaked, you’d come!”

You sigh like you’ve already regretted making that deal. “I said maybe, not promise. There’s a difference.”

Steve watches the whole exchange with mild amusement.

There’s something about you that’s... unbothered. The kind of cool that isn't about clothes or cliques—it’s just baked into how you move, how you don’t move unless you want to.

Dustin gestures toward the car. “Steve’s here! Just ride with us!”

You finally turn your eyes to Steve.

He feels it. The click.

Even behind your sunglasses, he swears you’re looking right through him. Not in a mean way. Just... curious. Calm. Like you’re deciding if he’s worth your attention.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

You give a small, two-finger wave. “Hey.”

It’s not shy. It’s not warm, either. Just simple.

Steve clears his throat. “Uh. Hey.”

Dustin walks toward the car, oblivious. “This is Steve. You probably know him from, like... every girl’s locker in 1985.”

You snort.

Steve flushes a little.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about you,” you say, still looking at him.

“Oh.” Steve shifts, suddenly aware of how he's leaning too hard on the door. “Good things, I hope?”

You shrug. “Mixed reviews.”

Dustin howls with laughter as he gets in the passenger seat.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek and forces a smile. “Tough crowd.”

You smirk. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He opens his mouth to reply—but you’re already putting your headphones back on, lifting the book, retreating into your little bubble of calm again.

Steve stares for a second too long. Then snaps out of it.

He gets in the car, trying not to let his face give him away.

Dustin’s still grinning. “You totally froze up.”

“I did not.”

“You did, dude. You were, like, blushing.”

“I was not blushing—”

“You want me to introduce you again next time? Maybe say you’re single and emotionally available?”

Steve throws the car into gear a little harder than necessary. “Keep talking and I’ll make you walk.”

Dustin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh, man. This is gonna be good.”

---

As they drive off, Steve glances in the rearview mirror. You’re still there on the porch, book in hand, but your head’s tilted just slightly—like maybe, just maybe, you’re watching the car pull away too.

---

It starts with a song.

Steve doesn’t even realize it’s one you were humming the last time he saw you until it comes on the Family Video speakers, some dreamy B-side from The Cure, just after closing. Robin’s in the back pretending to organize tapes but mostly just slapping labels on things that don’t need them.

“Did you put this on?” Steve asks.

Robin peeks her head around the aisle, eyebrows arched.

“You’ve worked here for a year and still don’t know how the rotation schedule works?”

“No—I mean—” Steve waves vaguely at the speakers.

“This song. Just reminded me of... never mind.”

Robin narrows her eyes. “Reminded you of who, Harrington?”

“No one,” Steve says way too fast.

She walks around the counter, crossing her arms. “You are being weird lately.”

“I’m not being weird,” Steve says. “I’m just... thinking.”

Robin snorts. “I’ve seen you think before. It usually involves staring into the middle distance and chewing on a pen cap. This is different. You’ve got that soft crush energy.”

Steve’s face burns. “I do not have soft crush energy.”

“Oh really? Because yesterday, when we were at the arcade, and Dustin mentioned his brother might show up, you whipped your head around like a golden retriever on espresso.”

Steve glares at her. “I did not.”

Robin leans on the counter, chin in hand. “Is it the hair? The voice? Is he older and smarter than you? That’d make sense.”

“I don’t even know him,” Steve says, flustered. “He barely said five words.”

Robin hums. “Must’ve been five very hot words.”

Steve groans and buries his face in his hands.

---

It gets worse later that night...

He’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and the scene keeps playing in his head.

The slow wave you gave him. That effortless, unreadable smirk. The way you sat on the porch like you weren’t waiting for anyone, like time moved around you.

He thinks about how your voice dipped when you said, “Mixed reviews.”

And the way you looked at him—really looked.

He swears you knew.

He rolls onto his stomach, face in a pillow.

God, he’s so obvious.

---

Saturday – Eddie’s Garage

Steve’s sprawled on a beat-up couch in Eddie’s garage while Eddie tunes his guitar and complains about Mike screwing up another campaign.

“I mean, he’s a good kid,” Eddie says, twisting a knob, “but you miss one session and suddenly everyone thinks they’re the dungeon master.”

“Right,” Steve mutters, barely listening.

Eddie glances up. “You alright, man? You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you pretend to listen but you’re secretly spiraling inside.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Steve lies.

“Uh-huh. Is this about Nancy?”

“No.”

“Robin?”

“No.”

“...Dustin’s brother?”

Steve freezes. “What?”

Eddie grins, smug. “Bingo.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Steve says defensively.

Eddie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen that look on your face before. You’ve got the ‘I think he’s hot and he intimidates me’ stare.”

Steve leans back and groans. “He just—he’s so—calm. Like, he’s not trying. And when I talk, I feel like I’m in a middle school play.”

Eddie chuckles. “You’re not used to being the awkward one, huh?”

Steve mutters, “It sucks.”

Eddie flicks a pick at him. “You’re fine, Romeo. Just don’t try too hard. You’ll crash and burn.”

---

Sunday – Wheeler’s House

Steve and Nancy are in the living room with Dustin and Mike, sorting through board games that somehow migrated into the garage.

Dustin is holding court, naturally.

“So Steve’s been acting super weird,” Dustin says, like he’s announcing global news.

Steve snaps his head up. “No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Mike says. “He showed up early to pick me up. He’s never early.”

Nancy looks up from the game box. “Is this about Y/N?”

Steve nearly drops the Clue board.

Dustin squints. “Wait. What about Y/N?”

Nancy blinks innocently. “Oh, I just figured. He’s been kinda... watching Steve lately.”

Silence.

Steve’s face goes blank. “Wait. What?”

Nancy smiles slightly. “You didn’t notice?”

Steve is spiraling.

Dustin looks from Nancy to Steve and howls. “OH MY GOD.”

Steve rubs his face. “No. No no no. Don’t start—”

“YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON MY BROTHER!”

“Dustin, I swear—”

“This is disgusting! I’m telling Mom. I’m telling EVERYONE.”

“You are not—!”

“Do you wanna MARRY him?! Are you gonna be my brother-in-law?!”

“Dustin—”

Nancy’s laughing softly behind a hand while Mike looks vaguely horrified.

“Wow,” Mike mutters. “Now I can’t unsee it.”

---

Later that night – Steve’s House

Robin’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, holding a grape soda.

“So let me get this straight. You’re crushing on Dustin’s older brother, and Nancy thinks he might be into you, and Dustin wants to exile you from Hawkins.”

Steve sinks into the cushions. “That about covers it.”

Robin pats his leg. “You’ve had worse weeks.”

Steve sighs. “He’s just... different.”

Robin tilts her head. “Different how?”

Steve shrugs. “He doesn’t try to be cool. He just is. And when I talk to him, it’s like... I don’t know. I forget how to be a person.”

Robin hums. “That’s kind of sweet. And tragic.”

Steve kicks at the rug. “I don’t even know how to start.”

She pauses. “You know, he works at Vinyl Alley, right?”

Steve looks at her slowly. “How do you know that?”

Robin grins. “Please. I’ve had a crush on him since junior year.”

Steve nearly chokes. “WHAT?”

“I’m over it. Relax,” she says. “I mean... not totally, but I like chaos, so I support this.”

Steve groans. “I need help.”

Robin clinks her soda can against his knee. “You need to just talk to him.”

Steve mutters into his hands. “Yeah. Right. Easy.”

Robin smirks. “Or, you could keep making puppy eyes from twenty feet away. That’s a solid long-term strategy.”

Steve throws a pillow at her.

---

It’s just past six when Steve pulls up to the Henderson house, thinking he’ll grab Dustin for movie night with Robin and Eddie.

It’s supposed to be a distraction. Keep things light. Keep his brain from looping around the way you looked at him a week ago—half bored, half curious, all center of gravity.

He hops out of his car, slicks his hair back once out of habit, and jogs up the driveway.

No sign of Dustin.

He knocks once. Waits.

No answer.

Then the screen door creaks open, and there you are.

Leaning against the frame like you’ve been there for hours. Barefoot, with a loose T-shirt that hangs perfectly, sleeves rolled a few times.

You’ve got a ring of condensation around your hand from a lemonade can. There’s music playing low from somewhere inside the house—Mazzy Star or maybe Cocteau Twins. Steve doesn’t know, but it fits you.

Your gaze is easy, slow-moving, like you already clocked him before the car even turned off.

“Dustin’s not here,” you say.

“Oh,” Steve says, heart immediately catching in his throat. “I—uh—he said to pick him up?”

You shrug, stepping onto the porch. “Probably got caught up at Lucas’s. He’s been biking over there after dinner a lot.”

Steve blinks. “Right. Yeah. Cool.”

You glance at the street. Then back at him. “You drove all the way here?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Thought we were gonna watch Predator or something. Eddie said he had this whole commentary planned.”

You hum. “That sounds... unbearable.”

Steve laughs, more at himself than anything. “You’ve met him.”

“I’ve survived him,” you reply, lips twitching into a smile. “Wanna sit? Porch’s not that exciting, but it’s better than standing there sweating.”

“Sure,” Steve says, a little too fast.

You sit first, folding into the wooden chair like you belong there. Like you’re part of the furniture, part of the air. Steve chooses the chair beside you, not too close.

The space between you hums a little louder than it should.

It’s quiet for a while. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

You crack your can open again. The fizz breaks the silence.

Steve tries not to stare at your fingers.

“So...” you say, almost lazily. “You’re the guy who picks Dustin up like clockwork.”

Steve chuckles. “Somebody’s gotta keep him alive.”

“True,” you say, eyes half-lidded behind the dying light. “He listens to you more than he listens to me.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“No,” you agree. “But still.”

More silence.

Steve wants to fill it. He wants to ask you if you’ve always lived in Hawkins, what kind of music you like, whether you’ve ever felt like you were supposed to be somewhere else—someone else.

Instead, he says, “What’re you listening to?”

You tilt your head slightly, like the question caught you off guard.

Then you reach for the portable cassette player on the table beside you, flip it around so he can see the label.

“Red House Painters – Rollercoaster.”

He nods slowly. “Never heard of it.”

You give him a sideways look. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Steve laughs under his breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got... radio taste,” you say. “Like, safe taste.”

He smiles. “You’re not wrong. I was more of a Top 40 guy.”

“And now?”

Steve shrugs. “Trying to listen to other things.”

You lean back, one knee bouncing slightly. “Trying to impress someone?”

That hits.

Steve looks at you, eyes flicking to your mouth and then away. “Maybe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is it working?”

He pauses. “Am I trying too hard?”

“No,” you say easily. “Trying too hard would mean you’re saying things you don’t mean.”

Steve looks at you again, slower this time.

“And I don’t think you’re doing that,” you finish, voice quiet.

The cicadas buzz louder in the trees. A neighbor’s sprinkler clicks on across the street. Somewhere inside, a clock ticks.

Steve swallows. “You don’t talk like other people.”

You huff a soft laugh. “You don’t either. You just think you do.”

He looks down at his shoes, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Robin says I act like a golden retriever when I have a crush.”

Your head tilts, just slightly. “Do you?”

“I didn’t think so,” he says, shrugging. “But lately? Kinda feels like it.”

He looks up.

You’re watching him now. Really watching.

The smirk you wore earlier is gone, replaced with something more grounded. Thoughtful.

You shift a little in your seat, angling toward him.

“That’s the thing with you, Harrington,” you say, voice just above a whisper. “You don’t hide things very well.”

Steve’s heart thumps loud in his chest. “That bad, huh?”

“No,” you say simply. “That honest.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. And for once, he doesn’t feel like he has to.

The two of you sit in the warmth, the kind of quiet that stretches like a yawn.

The song from inside fades into another one—slower, sadder. Steve doesn’t recognize it either, but it makes his throat tight.

You lean forward to grab your drink again, and your knee brushes his.

Neither of you moves.

Steve feels electricity crawl up his leg, warm and searching. He doesn’t look away from you. And you don’t look away either.

Eventually, you sit back.

“You’re better company than I thought you’d be,” you say casually.

Steve grins. “I get that a lot.”

You smile. Real this time. Not cocky, not distant. Just there.

Before Steve can say anything else, the distant sound of wheels on pavement echoes from around the corner.

Dustin.

You sigh through your nose. “Saved by the little brother.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, barely hearing it.

You stand slowly, stretching, the hem of your shirt lifting slightly.

Steve catches a glimpse of the soft curve of your waist, a hint of ink near your ribs. He looks away before he stares.

As Dustin’s bike screeches into the driveway, yelling something about Lucas being the worst teammate in D&D history, you nudge Steve lightly with your elbow.

“See you around, golden retriever.”

He freezes.

You smirk.

And just like that, you’re back inside, the screen door creaking shut behind you.

Steve watches it swing until it stills. And even when Dustin’s hopping in the passenger seat, still ranting about Mike and Eddie and his dice rolls, Steve’s brain is still on you.

And that quiet moment on the porch.

That brush of your knee.

And the smile you didn’t let anyone else see.

---

It happens again a few days later.

The air is thick with leftover heat, that sticky summer cling that hangs around after the sun dips below the trees. Streetlights flicker on like they’re yawning awake, fireflies blink lazily in the shrubs, and somewhere down the block, a lawn sprinkler ticks in time with the chirp of crickets.

Steve’s car rolls up quiet in front of your house.

It’s not planned. He tells himself he just happened to be driving by.

But the way his palms are sweating against the steering wheel says otherwise. He parks and sits for a full minute, watching your porch light glow through the screen door.

He could leave.

He should leave.

But then the door opens—and there you are, stepping out barefoot again, holding two bottles of orange soda by their necks.

You see him and smile like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You just gonna lurk there, Harrington? Or you want one of these?”

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he gets out of the car. “Do you read minds or something?”

“No,” you say, handing him a soda. “You’re just predictable in a charming, lost-puppy kind of way.”

Steve flushes but doesn’t argue.

You sit on the steps this time, not the chairs.

He drops down beside you, leaving a sliver of space between your knees. It’s quiet except for the bottle caps hitting the porch and the fizz of carbonation as you both take a drink.

After a long silence, you speak first.

“Rough night?”

Steve exhales slowly. “Just been... thinking.”

You nod, slow. “Dangerous habit.”

He smiles weakly. “Yeah.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say something,” he finally admits.

You glance at him, brows raised slightly.

“Something I haven’t really said out loud before,” Steve continues, staring straight ahead.

“I’m listening,” you say, voice gentle now—none of the teasing from before. Just there with him.

Steve fidgets with the label on the bottle.

“I’ve always been good at liking girls. Or, like... thinking I liked them. It was simple. Easy. You get a girlfriend, you hold hands, people nod at you in the hallway like you’re doing something right.”

You don’t interrupt. You don’t look away.

“But lately...” Steve trails off, then huffs out a breath. “It’s not that I don’t like girls. It’s just... they don’t make me nervous the way you do.”

That makes your mouth quirk just slightly. But you stay still. Let him keep going.

“I keep thinking about you. Not just the porch stuff. Just... how quiet you are. How you look like you’re always hearing things no one else can. How you talk like you’re choosing every word on purpose.”

He finally looks at you, full-on, eyes searching.

“I don’t even know if this is anything,” he says, voice low. “I just know I don’t feel like this around anyone else.”

You let the words settle.

There’s a warmth behind your ribs now. A slow, uncoiling understanding.

You set your soda down beside you. “You’re allowed to like things you didn’t expect.”

Steve watches you carefully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You lean back on your hands, letting your knee brush his again. This time, it lingers.

“You don’t have to label it,” you say. “Or explain it to anyone. Especially not me.”

Steve laughs quietly. “I don’t think I care about anyone else knowing. Just kind of wanted you to know.”

You nod once. “I know now.”

You both sit there a moment, letting the air fill the space between words.

The porch light buzzes overhead. A breeze picks up, rustling through the nearby trees. And in that space, something clicks into place—not like a dramatic kiss, not like fireworks. Just… gravity realigning.

Steve bumps your shoulder. “You still think I have radio taste?”

You grin. “Definitely. But I can work with that.”

He smiles. A real one this time. Open. Grateful.

You glance at him, a little softer now. “You’re better when you’re not trying so hard.”

“I’m not used to that.”

You shrug. “Start practicing.”

Steve lets out a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Would you ever wanna—” he clears his throat, face flushing, “—hang out? Just, like... you and me? Sometime?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “That depends. Are you gonna keep saying weird, vulnerable stuff?”

“Maybe.”

“Then yeah,” you say, lips tugging into a crooked smile. “I’m into that.”

Steve lets out a short laugh, head falling forward. “Thank God.”

You chuckle, nudging his knee. “Easy, Harrington. Don’t faint on my porch. You’re too pretty to pass out.”

He looks up, eyes wide. “Was that—did you just call me—?”

You stand, grabbing your soda, and walk inside without answering.

The screen door swings closed behind you.

Steve stares at it for a long time, heart racing like he just ran a mile uphill.

Then he grins.

Yeah. This is definitely something.

---

Days pass..

It’s a late Saturday afternoon, the kind where Hawkins glows like it’s been dunked in honey — warm and slow, shadows long on the sidewalk.

Robin convinced everyone to meet at the old picnic area near Lover’s Lake for what she dramatically titled a “mental health gathering.”

Translation: snacks, sarcasm, and watching Eddie yell at squirrels.

Steve pulls up in his car, and you’re already there — sitting against one of the wooden tables with your headphones around your neck, sipping from a bottle of cherry cola, ankles crossed, calm as always.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are halfway through setting up a game of Uno on a folding table.

Nancy is adjusting the battery in a small portable radio she brought, claiming “someone needs to curate the vibe.” Eddie’s lying in the grass, eyes closed, pretending he doesn’t care.

Robin is mid-sentence when she catches sight of Steve walking up behind you. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she watches the way he doesn’t just walk — he drifts toward you like gravity’s involved.

You tilt your head back, see him coming, and give the tiniest smile. Just a flick of the mouth. But it lingers.

“Hey,” you say, like you were waiting for him.

Steve sits next to you, just a little closer than necessary.

Robin raises a single eyebrow. Nancy notices too — her lips press into a barely-there smirk. She nudges Robin with her elbow.

Dustin, of course, doesn’t notice a thing. He’s too busy triumphantly slamming down a +4 on Lucas.

“You absolute traitor!” Lucas yells.

“You played yourself,” Dustin shrugs.

As the chaos unfolds, Steve leans in slightly, speaking under his breath.

“You always drink that stuff?” he asks, nodding to the cherry cola.

You glance sideways, smirking. “Maybe I like sweet things.”

Steve blinks once.

Then twice.

You take a slow sip and don’t elaborate.

Robin almost chokes on a carrot stick from the snack bowl.

Nancy raises an eyebrow and murmurs to her, “They’re doing the thing again.”

“The what?” Eddie asks, rolling over lazily.

Nancy gestures subtly to you and Steve, who are in your own quiet little orbit at the end of the table, barely touching, barely talking — but fully locked in.

Eddie lifts his head, squints. “Are they—?” His voice drops. “No.”

Robin grins. “Oh yeah.”

Eddie sits up like someone just poured soda on his boots. “When the hell did that happen?”

Dustin looks up. “When did what happen?”

Everyone freezes for a split second.

Steve tries very hard to look like he’s not mentally collapsing.

You, cool as ever, just stretch your legs and say, “Hey, Dust. You ever figure out why your Uno strategy sucks so bad?”

Dustin squints. “Deflecting, are we?”

Eddie snickers.

Robin leans back on her elbows, grinning like she’s watching a live TV reveal.

Dustin’s eyes narrow. He looks at Steve. Then at you. Then back.

You’ve seen this look before — it’s the face he makes when he’s putting together a scientific theory or sniffing out secrets with Erica.

He squints harder. “Wait a damn minute.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest—too late.

Dustin stands up, hands flat on the table. “YOU’RE DATING MY BROTHER?!”

The birds scatter from the trees. Mike nearly drops his cards.

Steve lifts both hands like he’s under arrest. “Dustin—listen—”

“Since WHEN?!” Dustin yells, looking back and forth between you both like he’s witnessing a crime scene.

You sip your soda. “A while.”

Robin’s snorting with laughter now, face buried in Nancy’s shoulder.

Eddie says, “I knew something was weird! The night at my place, when Steve said your name and then immediately forgot what year it was? That makes so much sense now!”

Dustin starts pacing like a lawyer delivering his closing argument.

“Steve Harrington, you told me to brush my teeth last week! That’s like — a big brother thing! You can’t do that and be—you can’t date my actual brother! That’s betrayal on two fronts!”

Steve runs a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to lie—”

“You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d react like this!”

“I mean,” Steve admits, “a little, yeah.”

Dustin glares at you. “And you! You just let him into the house like it was no big deal!”

You lean back lazily. “He already had a key to the house... metaphorically.”

Robin shouts, “OH MY GOD.”

Eddie drops backwards into the grass again, wheezing.

Nancy smiles, folding her arms. “I think it’s sweet.”

Dustin groans like someone just stabbed him in the heart with a +4 card.

“No. Nope. I refuse. Steve is like my divorced dad and my annoying uncle combined! This is gross!”

You tilt your head. “Would it be better if I dumped him and dated Eddie?”

Eddie perks up. “I’m flattered.”

Steve blurts, “Please don’t.”

Robin collapses into laughter.

Dustin dramatically falls into a lawn chair, hands over his face. “God. I have to change schools.”

Lucas pats him on the back. “You don’t even go to school right now.”

“College, then!”

“You’re not in college.”

“I’LL SKIP STRAIGHT TO RETIREMENT.”

Nancy kneels beside him, voice dry. “Dustin. Breathe.”

---

As the sun begins to dip—

The group slowly reassembles. Uno resumes. Robin and Eddie still throw teasing looks at Steve, who can’t seem to stop looking at you.

You’re laid out on the blanket now, legs crossed at the ankles, sipping your soda and watching the clouds change color.

Steve lies down beside you, not quite touching, but close.

Dustin eventually calms down. He throws a single potato chip at Steve’s head in a weak display of dominance. It bounces off harmlessly.

“Don’t break his heart,” Dustin mutters.

You glance sideways at him. “I won’t.”

“You better not,” Dustin grumbles. “Because then I have to pick sides. And you know Mom would make me take the couch.”

Steve smiles faintly at that. Reaches over and gently brushes your knuckles.

You let him.

And the sun melts into the lake, quiet and gold and perfect.

No grand gestures. No declarations.

Just this.

Two people who didn’t plan on anything, finding something that feels like home.

---

Authors note: hii Atlas!, thank you so much for requesting this. I enjoyed writing it so much and I had overall a great time making it ☺️ I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!! And thank you so much again🩷

Credits: my steve border is made by me but the rose border is made by kodaswrld!! Go and support them🩷

[hardly-an-escape]

I believe with all my heart that Buck still struggles during thunderstorms after being hit by lightning. luckily Tommy makes an extremely effective weighted blanket.

Tommy awakens, in the early hours of the morning, to a clap of thunder and an empty bed.

He feels sleepily for Evan; that side of the bed is still warm, so he can't be far, probably just in the bathroom.

He dozes off again. When another rolling burst of thunder startles him back to consciousness a few minutes later, Evan is still gone and the sheets have cooled. The rain is clattering hard on the skylight above their bed. With a groan, Tommy hauls himself out of bed to look for his boyfriend.

Evan is not in the en suite bathroom. Nor is he in the office, where he sometimes retreats to read when he can't sleep; nor yet in the kitchen. Tommy stands in the living room, hands on hips, blinking blearily and considering where he might look next.

Then he notices the blankets on the floor.

They’ve got one of those L-shaped couches with the chaise on one side, big and deep enough for two bulky men to cuddle on. Evan has wedged himself against the couch legs in the corner of the L in a pile of blankets and throw pillows, and Tommy doesn’t miss the fact that he’s about as far from the living room windows as it’s possible to be.

Even bleary-eyed, he doesn’t miss the fact that the blinds and curtains are both tightly closed, though he’s sure they’d been open when they went to bed, to catch the last few rays of sunset before the cloud cover rolled over Los Angeles.

Outside, the rain beats heavily against the sidewalk and the roof and the windows and thunder rumbles again across the sky. Inside, Tommy lowers himself down to the living room floor with a grunt and adds himself to Evan's pile of pillows.

"Hey," Evan says, voice sleepy and small.

"Hey," Tommy replies, insinuating one hand into the nest to gently hold the back of Evan's neck. "Storm getting to you?"

"Yeah. Normally it wouldn't, you know, bug me, but I was already having this weird, like, anxiety dream about my sister, and when the thunder and lightning woke me up, it just –"

"You don't have to explain, sweetheart," Tommy cuts in. "I get it."

"It's embarrassing," Evan says, muffled.

"It's not. We have a scary job. Every firefighter I know has something like this, a call or an injury that stuck with them, and not in a good way. Yours just happens to be a little more... visceral, I guess, than some people's."

"I guess. Thanks for coming to check on me."

"Of course." He can feel Evan flinch as another clap of thunder is followed almost immediately by a bolt of lightning that makes the room glow briefly, even through the blinds and curtains. Tommy tightens his grip on the back of his neck. "If you need to stay down here, I'll stay with you, but I think my back and your leg will thank us if we can make it onto the couch."

Evan considers. "Will you lie on top of me?"

"Sure."

They maneuver themselves and the blankets onto the long side of the couch. After some adjustment, Evan ends up on his belly, bad leg cocked to the side and face turned toward the back of the couch, clutching a throw pillow to his chest while Tommy plasters himself against his back like the world's heaviest weighted blanket.

"Okay, you were right, this is so much better than the floor," Evan says, sighing happily, and Tommy grins, and rubs his nose on the back of Evan's neck, and kisses the curve of his ear.

"Tomorrow I'll look for some blinds or something we can put on the skylight, okay? It would probably help if it didn't feel so exposed, right?"

There's a long, silent beat. "You don't have to do that just for me," Evan says eventually.

"Eh, it gets too bright in there anyway. I'm an old man, remember, I need all the help sleeping I can get. And besides," Tommy adds quietly. "I want to do things for you."

"Oh, well in that case," Evan says. "Yeah, I think it would help."

"Then we'll do it," Tommy says simply. They lie there for a few minutes, listening to the wind. The rain is still heavy, but it sounds like the worst of the weather system is receding, blowing away to wherever storms go when they've blown out all their furious energy. Evan's breathing has evened out, and the tension is receding from his body as the storm gets quieter and quieter.

“Do you, uh, do you remember that storm?” Evan asks. He doesn’t have to specify which storm.

“I do, actually. I was supposed to be doing some training runs that night, but all non-emergency flights got grounded. And then the next day, everybody and their granny heard about the guy who literally got struck by lightning. That was pretty memorable.”

Evan sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it was, wasn’t it?”

There’s this feeling welling up inside his chest like water from an underground spring. It’s this combination of marvel and abject gratitude and a dash of there but for the grace of God go I, and Tommy is searching for the right words to try and tell Evan what he’s thinking.

“I’m really glad you’re here, sweetheart,” is what comes out.

Evan wriggles happily underneath him. “Yeah, me too, babe.”

“No, I mean –” Tommy clears his throat against the sudden lump. “I mean, you don’t know how glad I am you’re here. There’s so many things that – that could have taken you away from me before I even got the chance to have you. And I would never have known – I wouldn’t have even known you were missing from my life.”

"Yeah," Evan says softly. "Yeah, I think about that sometimes, too. When Chimney told me about saving you from that explosion, back in the day... he was laughing about it, kind of, but I kept thinking, like. That could have been it. No more Tommy."

"No us," Tommy murmurs.

"No us." Evan cranes his neck around. They can't quite kiss, not at this angle, but Tommy can press his forehead against Evan's temple and breathe him in. The smell of his nice moisturizer and under that the smell of his skin, so fragile and so dear.