#skateboarding is hard man

[o-wyrmlight]

Hey.

Kim teaching Harry how to skateboard and Harry teaching Kim how to roller skate.

Harry thinks he fucking sucks at first because Kim gets the hang of roller skating pretty quickly. As it turns out, skateboarding is a lot harder than roller skating.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. Um. Kim still prefers skateboarding because of the technical aspect and risk factor but he’s surprised he enjoys how chill roller skating is.

Harry enjoys skateboarding because a) time with Kim as a teacher and b) oh wow a challenge? Your physical instrument loves challenges. You will conquer this with the force of your—what do you mean this is more the centipede’s thing? Holy shit no wonder Kim’s so cool

[knoxvill3-nati0n]

guys... please talk me out of buying one of the new BAM decks... I'm so serious. $90 is really good for a board but it's probably in USD 😞

especially since I just blew an embarrassing amount of money on steve-o's website... guys tell me i don't need it, i'm begging.

[kigner]

y'all i found the perfect game for me

[sayoneee]

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike). 

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you. 

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat). 

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand. 

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?” 

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?” 

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs. 

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer. 

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes. 

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy. 

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you. 

percy laughs — a green light. 

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt. 

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar. 

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up. 

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him. 

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms. 

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus). 

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

[theysherobinbuckley]

a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

[axelsagewrites]

Felix Catton*Who is that?

Pairing: Felix Catton x f!reader

Word count: 1303

Warnings: Farleigh being judgy, pure fluff

Masterlist Here

It was during his first lecture when Felix saw you for the first time. he was sat near the back when you walked in and to Felix you were hard to miss. You definitely stood out being the only student in overalls and messy ponytail with a pencil shoved in it, but Felix found your get up oddly endearing.

He watched as you took the closest empty seat, the end chair in a row only 3 down from his which luckily gave him a great view of you. “What is she? A farmer?” Farleigh snorted when he caught sight of what Felix had been looking at.

Felix rolled his eyes at his cousin, “Lay off. I think it looks cool,”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “If you’re poor,”

Luckily the professor walked in right at that moment so Felix could tune out Farleigh who wasn’t even paying attention to the class. Neither was Felix but at least he tried but his attention kept being drawn back to you.

Unluckily however for him was that when the class was dismissed you were instantly swallowed by the excited to leave crowd meaning Felix wasn’t able to get your name.

-

the next time Felix saw you was at the fellows’ gardens at oxford. It was a rare sunny day in Britan, so Felix was currently taking a wander through the gardens with his mates when he saw you. you were laying by a tree reading a book above your head to block out the sun.

it was something he often did himself during the summer holidays at Saltburn and the sight of you doing the same filled his heart with an odd sense of nostalgia that was only knocked away when one of the girls who had joined their wander latched onto his arm suddenly.

Not wanting to deal with Farleigh’s comments right now Felix decided that he’d excuse himself in a couple minutes and double back so he could finally get your name but by the time he’d came back to the tree you were nowhere to be seen.

-

It was only a couple days till he saw you again however this time you disappeared even quicker. He was walking out of oxford with Farleigh and some friends when you came whizzing past them on a skateboard with your headphones on.

“Who even uses a skateboard?” Farleigh rolled his eyes as you disappeared too quick for Felix to catch your attention.

“Do you have to judge everyone?” Felix found himself snapping before he’d given it much thought, “You’ve not even met her,”

“Okay geez,” Farleigh said, raising his hands in mock defence, “Didn’t realise I was insulting your girlfriend or something,”

Felix scoffed at his cousin, not quite understanding why the words seemed to hurt, “I’ve not even met her mate. You’re just being an arse,”

-

-

Felix suddenly found you popping up everywhere but never getting the chance to actually say hello. He got close one time, less than a foot from you when suddenly Olly came over to get his attention and by the time, he looked back you were halfway down the corridor.

He didn’t even know you, yet you were consuming his mind especially since none of his friends had heard of you either. He decided to go to the pub tonight to try get his mind off of it when it happened again.

Felix saw you walk into the bar by yourself. He didn’t want to sound so creepy, but he was mentally relieved that you hadn’t walked in with another guy and instead walked up to the bar and ordered a drink before heading to an empty two-seater table and pulling out a book.

“Look who showed up,” Farleigh teased when he saw Felix’s eyes on you, “Your girlfriends here. I swear you need to go and speak to her, or I will. It’s getting sad mate,” he scoffed but as much as Felix hated to admit it, he was right.

“Okay,” Felix said, puffing up his chest for confidence, “I’m doing it,”

Neither Farleigh nor Oliver had seen Felix look so nervous so both shot each other a confused glance as Felix mentally prepared himself, “Just go for its man,” Oliver told him, “Worst she could say is no,”

“Which she won’t cause no girl in the history of ever has,” Farleigh scoffed, “it’s annoying really,”

Felix ignored both of them and decided enough was enough as he found himself walking to your table. As he walked to your table, he saw the book in your hands more clearly. “I haven’t read that one, but I hear its good,” Felix said, snapping you out of your daze.

“Um yeah it’s good,” you said, half closing your book with your finger in between to keep its place.

“I’m Felix,” he said, stretching out his hand for you to shake and instantly regretting it when he remembered he wasn’t at his mother’s fancy dinners.

You however graciously laughed and shook his hand putting him out his misery, “Nice to meet you Felix,” you said and finally after ages of wondering he found out your name.

“Do you want another?” he asked, nodding to your near empty drink.

You however looked to his table which were all very obviously staring at you both, “I think your friends may miss you,”

“They can survive without me for say just one drink. I don’t want to keep you from it for too long,” he said, motioning down at your book.

Another soft laugh left your lips pulling him in deeper, “Okay. one drink,”

When Felix got up to get the drinks, he saw some cheap looking cardboard coasters and grabbed one. “Can I borrow a pen mate?” he asked the bartender who gave him it before finishing up the drinks. Felix quickly wrote his number and name on the back of the cardboard before picking up the drinks.

“Here and,” he said, sitting your drink down and taking your book out your hands and slipping the coaster in the pages, “here. So, you don’t lose your spot,”

“I agreed to a drink,” you said as Felix sat down, “who said I wanted company?” you said but the teasing smile on your lips made him laugh and the conversation quickly flowed as you both nursed your drinks for an hour.

Eventually you glanced at the time then frowned, “I should probably go I have an early lecture tomorrow,”

“Skip it,” Felix said, leaning on the table, “Stay a little longer,”

“I wish I could,” you said as you slipped the book into your bag without even checking the bookmark he’d left. “I’d say id see you tomorrow but,” you said as you stood up, “apparently you’re skipping that lecture,” you said making him quirk an eyebrow at you, “You’re in my class,”

“I know,” he said with a grin, “I just didn’t know you knew,”

“How could I not know? you look like a statue the uni commissioned,” you joked, and Felix found his cheeks heating up and his face flushing and for once not because of the alcohol, “See you around Felix,”

“See you,” he said, raising his hand to wave goodbye and internally being grateful when you turned around so he could watch you leave.

-

Honestly Felix wasn’t entirely sure if that whole conversation happened or if you were simply a mirage. However, when his phone buzzed that night, he knew you were definitely real, and he was thankful for it.

Unknown number – you’re a sneaky man

Felix felt his cheeks hurt from smiling as he typed back.

Felix – I just didn’t want you to lose your place

What Felix didn’t see however was the way you were laying in bed also smiling like a Cheshire cat at his messages.

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[satellitespinner]

MODERN ELLIE HEADCANNONS

modern!ellie who rides a beat up skateboard from when she was 15 everywhere. i mean everywhere your place, jesse’s, class. everywhere !

modern!ellie whose pen is never not in her hand, or deep denim pockets.

modern!ellie who tries to learn cool pen tricks while “finishing” her homework, but ends up hitting you with the pen..

modern!ellie who was your bestfriend before she was your girlfriend. you two were inseparable! (and irritating.)

modern!ellie who never fucking answers her texts.. it’s infuriating.

modern!ellie who sells weed on the side of working at a small café on campus. (she doesn’t like Starbucks) ((as she should))

modern!ellie who majors in astrophysics! that girl has been in love with space since she could talk. infact! her first word was planet!

modern!ellie who was unfortunately in the foster care system until she was adopted by the lovely man we all know as joel miller!!

modern!ellie whose username on all platforms is more likely to be something stupid than her actual name.

modern!ellie who refuses to turn on auto correct even though she so desperately needs it.

modern!ellie never cooks. ever! it’s either take-out or you forcing a homemade meal down her throat. (she doesn’t mind.)

modern!ellie who cuddles you like you’re married!

modern!ellie doesn’t play about her video game!!!! she will throw a tantrum!

modern!ellie’s playlist consists of hard rock, indie and atleast some rap.

modern!ellie who just shows up at your house?? at let’s herself in!!! the disrespect.. (you don’t care..)

imagine you come home from a long, stressed-filled day. juggling work and exam week AND the weight of being the baddest bitch on campus has really been weighing on you lately; causing you to (as she calls it) neglect ellie..

you walk in, shoulders slumped and release a heavy sigh as you drop your things down on the kitchen table when your bestfriend walks out of your bathroom like nothing.

“hello?” you say, your face morphing from scared to un-impressed as you realize the person in your home was not an intruder.

“hey babe” she says quietly as she walks over to you, slowly watching you as you put your things away.

“how many times have i told you. the extra key i gave you is for emergencies.” you lecture. not really caring as much as you led on to be.

“there was an emergency though!” she argues. you give her a look of scepticism. “and what would that be?” you roll your eyes.

“we haven’t hung out in three days! hello?! i’ve barely seen you since monday!” she whines.

“i’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“busy?”

“yeah.” you whisper, palming your eyes out of fatigue. she gives you a half smile as she realizes that you’re not in the mood for her god awful attitude.

“awh, ‘cmere” the next thing you know your letting yourself relax into ellie’s arms as she rubs your back and gently soothes the tension in your body.

“you wanna go lay down?” she looks down at you and asks. hee voice remaining in the same low whisper as before.

“yeah, please.” you say before she grabs your hand and pulls you into your bedroom. she insists on making you feel better at this point and who are you to stop her??

she opens your pajama drawer and pulls out a big baggy shirt and some shorts, “put these on.” she says as she walks around the bed to the night table, switching the lamp on and peeling back the blanket.

she somehow managed to keep her eyes to herself and when your done she carefully slides into bed next to you. “you comfy?” she asks.

“im good.” god you can already feel your eyes closing. ellie slowly pulls you into her arms and rubs small circles on your stomach as she lulls you into tranquility. eventually you both fall asleep; what seemed to be the weight of the world lifting of your shoulders.

for now.

modern!ellie who had a crusty white dog but it went missing and she never saw it again.

[thatfandomslut]

Idiot

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: descriptions of an injury & cussing

Request:

Valentine's / Celebration Request; Regina George w/ quote 17 and piece of chocolate number 3. Or: “I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” w/ injury

Valentine's / Followers celebration requests are closed.

Regina stared at (Y/n), her jaw slackening open in shock. There her girlfriend was road rash covering her chin and ripping through her hoodie and jeans, successfully causing her knees and arm to bleed along with her chin. In (Y/n)'s hands, Regina eyed the skateboard that (Y/n) had made but let Regina design three months ago when they started dating. Eventually, Regina began to process what was going on. "Please tell me that you didn't ride here for twelve miles and cross a highway when you could've just called." She stated, knowing that was exactly what (Y/n) did.

(Y/n) opened her mouth to speak, her words wanting to spill out urgently. Instead, Regina tugged her inside and to the bathroom where she was forced to dig around for the first aid kit. "Regina, please, I have to tell you something. It's important." (Y/n) said, her adrenaline still high enough to not feel the pain until Regina promptly poured hydrogen peroxide on her knees, the chemical compound bubbling up on her skin. "Fuck, babe! There was absolutely no warning with that pour." (Y/n) whined as the sizzling continued as Regina began to provide aid to her knees.

"Yeah, well, if you're going to ride to my house at midnight on your skateboard like an idiot, you're not going to get a warning." Regina huffed as she shook her head. There were two reasons that she found herself growing frustrated. The first one was that her significant other decided it was okay to ride to her place at a late hour. She would say that (Y/n) could've gotten hurt but she did. The second reason, it was incredibly hard to clean up her wounds away from the jeans. She could only imagine how it was going to be when she got to her hoodie. "Take off your hoodie because I'm going to need to clean your arm too."

(Y/n) looked at her arm, realizing she had injured herself there. Suddenly, the pain became known as she rubbed at the drying blood on her chin. "Aw, man," she instantly complained, pulling off the hoodie. Not only was it torn but it was now stained with blood, along with the shirt she had under the jacket. "This was my favorite hoodie." (Y/n) sighed as she began to fold the hoodie, not hearing the short 'it was mine, too,' from her annoyed girlfriend.

Regina continued to work, snapping at (Y/n) anytime she tried to speak. "I'm sorry, but I'm kind of upset with you. Just let me clean up and we'll talk." She eventually said, knowing that (Y/n) speaking wasn't helping her aid any of the injuries that (Y/n) had procured during her late-night excursion. If she wanted to come over, she always could've called. Instead, (Y/n) put herself in danger. Whatever reason she had better be a good one since Regina found herself growing more frustrated by the second. Especially when she got to (Y/n)'s chin and wanted to kiss her girlfriend's incredibly kissable lips. "Okay, I'm done. Now, please tell me why you thought it was okay to ride to my house at midnight." Regina began throwing away the supplies, looking over (Y/n) to make sure there were no unmissed injuries.

"Oh, right," (Y/n) cleared her throat, a bit lost in Regina's eyes. As cliché as it sounded Regina did look very beautiful when she was mad. Only, that wasn't the reason (Y/n) made her way over twelve miles on a skateboard and through a highway. Though, in her defense, the highway was almost desolate due to the time. “I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. I love you, Regina.”

Regina's eyes widened for a moment before she practically facepalmed. As cute as everything (Y/n) said was, she still didn't understand why this couldn't wait until the morning. "(Y/n)…" She trailed off as she tried to place her words carefully. "I love you, too, but… If you ever come to my house, twelve miles away on your damn skateboard, I'm going to kill you. You could've definitely not experienced the rest of your life with me because you decided to do something incredibly dangerous and stupid. You're an idiot… You're also my idiot." Regina finished, her eyes softening as she couldn't stay mad at (Y/n).

(Y/n)'s eyes lit up as Regina bent over as she pressed a kiss onto (Y/n)'s lips. (Y/n) automatically kissed back as she cupped Regina's cheeks. Eventually, Regina pulled away and (Y/n) stood up. "I guess I should go back home then." (Y/n) said, getting her skateboard ready. Regina almost rolled her eyes over the lesson that had not been learned. Of course, that was what it was like having a golden retriever girlfriend sometimes.

Grabbing the back of (Y/n)'s shirt as she tried to pass her, Regina stopped her with narrowed eyes. "Absolutely not. You're staying here. Get yourself upstairs and change into those pajamas I bought you last week for our impromptu sleepovers." Regina instructed causing (Y/n) to grin as she bounded upstairs and made her way to Regina's room. The action caused the blonde to smile slightly and shake her head over how excited her girlfriend could get over the smallest things at times. "God, she's so fucking cute but such an idiot," Regina muttered to herself as she followed at a slower pace.

Once Regina finally made her way up the stairs, she lay in bed with (Y/n). Automatically, she felt herself get wrapped into (Y/n)'s arms. The action made her smile as she leaned into her girlfriend happily. Internally, she was also excited over the fact that 'I love you, Regina.' replayed in her head over and over again as she fell asleep. (Y/n) was just as excited, kissing the back of Regina's head. She needed to tell Regina as soon as she realized she was in love with her. That was just important to her. The fact that Regina felt the same lulled her into a content state of sleep.

[onewingeddove444]

★How the bachelors would react if they accidentally made you cry

word count: 1.1k

Alex:

-would probably not even notice you're crying at first

-his expression would change so quickly

-😀😦

-kind of knew he had it coming though, since a lot of the stuff that flies out of his mouth is....well😇

-would IMMEDIATELY start taking the blame, saying things like "nahhh i didn't actually mean that i lied haha no idea why i said that i'm so stupid" ((starts blaming it on his hormones being affected by working out or something😭😭))

-hesitates at first, but pulls you into the tightest embrace you've ever felt ngl probably hurts a little lol

-his way of apologising to you is saying "you can punch me as hard as you want, i deserve it!!!!"

-starts treating you like royalty for another month, to the point where it becomes annoying

-every time you bring it up, even as a joke, he basically drops to his knees and starts apologising all over again

Elliott:

-if you thought this man was already dramatic as it is....lord🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

-would try to be cool about it, while in his head he's already pressing a dagger to his neck, saying that he has now betrayed his heart and doesn't want to go on any longer

-the moment he sees tears flowing down your face, the only word able to come out of his mouth is a soft "no, no, no..."

-he'd probably start crying with you😭😭😭

-starts whispering the most loving and kind things about yourself into your ear

-literally compares you to the most breathtaking images you could ever envision

-alternative scenario, where he just drops to the floor and starts begging for your forgiveness, even though what he said wasn't really that bad

-after that, he checks up on you every 5 minutes, to make sure you're not upset with him

-would swear on his life and soul to never hurt you again ((mind you it was never that serious😭))

-writes you so many short poems...atp they just become a whole book

Harvey:

-man....😭

-probably hurts him more than it does you lmao

-you crying would be too much for him already...but crying because of him?? ouuu

-is ready to completely retract what he said, even if he's absolutely right, that just doesn't matter to him anymore

-he just stands there for a good amount of time, since he really doesn't know how to deal with these kinds of emotions

-this might just be the first time this man has made someone cry because...let's be fr☠️

-would do that thing where he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs ((after that he's kinda clueless though😭))

-this literally being his worst nightmare...in his eyes hurting you is the equivalent of failing as a partner...and he's not really allowed to fail too often🙁

-would wait 30 years until you're not upset with him ((it takes you exactly 1 minute btw)), and after that it's flowers delivered to your doorstep every day of the week

-even if it were to be a one-time occurrence, he would NEVER EVER forget it, and he would always justify spoiling you with it ((using the 4 cents he makes from the clinic👎))

Sam:

-he is not that smart when it comes to verbalising thoughts please forgive him

-says things like "aw man you're crying😔😔😔😭😭“

-if he's holding a drink or eating something, he offers it to you, even if there's a single bite/sip left of it

-refuses to smile until he's 100% sure you've forgiven him, otherwise he just looks like this: :--(

-low-key fighting for his life not to pull out his phone and google "how to comfort crying person wikihow"

-once you tell him that it's okay between you two bro gets jolly, running around in circles, giggling, twirling his hair and laying down kicking his feet up

-the thing he did that upset you could've been minor, but that still doesn't stop him from saying "man...😔🤦 i'm so glad this chapter is behind us now.." like okay???😭😭😭 ((bonus points if he describes this as a "rough patch" in your relationship))

-tries making something for you after, fails miserably, resorts to showing you cool skateboard tricks he learned off of youtube

-learns his lesson and actually thinks more before he says something ((to the best of his ability))

-promises to write a song about your love and go platinum ((shows it to sebastian and gets banned from writing lyrics for the band forever))

Sebastian:

-freezes immediately

-literally unable to get a single word out, what is he supposed to do in his situation😭

-manages to whisper "i didn't mean..." and proceeds to go quiet after that

-he's been living a sheltered life for a very long time, so he's really scared that whatever he says it will only hurt you even more

-you can definitely see his expression change...not only does it soften but he looks UPSET upset, mostly with himself

-pulls you into a hug, hoping that it'll help a little bit ((it does, bro seems like a good hugger))

-asks you if there's anything he can do to cheer you up, and let me tell you he'd really do anything

-does not let you go for the rest of the day, having his arm wrapped around you, holding your hand, even if it's just the pinky fingers touching

-you have to keep reassuring him that it's okay now, he literally hits you with the "are you sure you're not mad at me?" every 3 seconds just to make sure you guys are good🙏

-lets you touch whatever you want in his room, i'm talking elementary school pictures, old sketchbooks, it's all yours, no matter how humiliating

Shane:

-um...uh😭🙅‍♀️

-yeah he is PISSED he's made you cry, he might've been mean when he first saw you, but now??? that is just not allowed in his mind idc

-jumps to self-deprecation immediately, talking about how he's an asshole, how he always fucks things up (🙁)

-just takes the whole blame on himself, no problem with that

-kind of saw this happening in the nearest future, that man does not have a very good opinion of himself let's be honest😭

-you could tell him you forgive him and he'd be like "nah don't do that wtf i don't deserve it😔"

-doesn't try comforting you at first, since he just assumes that you might never want to see him again

-but after the dust settles he reassures you that he's going to do everything to make sure this doesn't happen again

-sends you musty frozen pizza in the mail in retaliation (sigh🙁)

-would love to pretend this never happened, but making you cry really took a hit on his self-esteem, however it also made him think about how to be the best partner you can have

[sunarc]

Skater-Fuck Boy Gojo Headcanons

CW: NSFW headcanons underneath cut, toxic gojo, oral, cum eating, public sex, squirting, dirty talk

A/N: The divider is by the amazing @todorosie.

⇢ He knows he’s pretty and he uses his looks to his advantage. He gets free things all the time simply because of his looks.

⇢ One of the best skaters like he should be acknowledged like tony hawk but he doesn’t take it seriously because he skates for fun and it would be too much on him to do it professionally.

⇢ He’s not a good teacher because he thinks you should know these things even though you’ve never skated before

⇢ He’s very soft though. So when he’s teaching you his voice is soft, his touch is soft but when you ask him questions he’s confused on how you don’t know this already

⇢ He likes to skate at night, he says the park is empty and that when he can practice his best tricks

⇢ He loves baggy clothes but his favorite combination is the baggy cargo pants with a crop top

⇢ Has the body of a God but we been knew that

⇢ You wonder how he looks so fit because man eats so unhealthy.

⇢ Has broken so many bones he's lost count

⇢ He was so proud of you when you first got your skateboard, he even spent time decorating the board with you

⇢ Man is a flirt

⇢ He’ll do a cool trick to impress a girl and pretend like it was the easiest thing in the world

⇢ He has broken his skateboard a million times. He once pulled off a trick he had been practicing for months and broke his skateboard as celebration

⇢ He truly believes if you have not broken a bone you are not a true skater

⇢ He flirts with so many girls and blames it on him having a big heart. How could he reject someone so pretty, that would be mean.

⇢ He won't openly admit it but he’s a simp. He flirts a lot but he always tells you your his favorite and that he would pick you over anyone in a heartbeat.

⇢ Has a tattoo of a skateboard. It’s his only tattoo, says his skin is too perfect for ink.

⇢ His fingers are covered in rings. 

⇢ He is openly single has has admitted this to you but always takes a clam over you saying you’re his and his alone.

⇢ Has flirted in front of you on multiple occasions. He’ll always come back to you apologizing but not with words, with actions.

NSFW

⇢ He mostly wears rings because he likes the way they look covered in your cum. His favorite thing to do is make you suck your own cum off of his ring covered fingers

⇢ He has fucked you in an empty, dark skate park. He says it’s the thrill of getting caught that gets him so hard

⇢ Gojo doesn’t like labels but he has taken an unannounced claim over you. He makes you wear an anklet with his initials so he can kiss it when he has your legs propped up on his shoulders while he fucks you.

⇢ When he gets excited he gets hard so when he lands a new trick to celebrate he fucks you in his car.

⇢ His favorite thing to do is eat you out. He claims he’s doing it for you but even after you cum his face is still shoved between your legs while he moans and begs you for another orgasm.

⇢ His only way of apologizing is by making you cum on his cock. He’s horrible at real apologies. He has fucked you for hours all while asking if you forgive him. He knows you can’t reply so he takes your fucked out moans as an acceptance of his “apology”

⇢ He once made you sit on his skateboard and finger yourself until you were squirting on the board. He later won a skate competition with that same board.

⇢ He asks you to give him a pre-competition head as goodluck. You always oblige. He has to cover your pretty face in cum or he believes it wont work.

⇢ Gojo isn’t too good to kiss you after a blowjob. He’ll cum in your mouth then kiss you so he can get a taste.

⇢ He talks you through it.

⇢“Pretty pussy needed my cock. Look at how she’s thanking me”

⇢“Cum for me pretty girl, show me how much you love this cock”

⇢ His likes praise during sex but if he has lost a competition he fucks his anger out on you. 

⇢ He rarely loses though so you have to ask him to fuck you rough if you want it but he’s not just going to give it to you. He wants to hear you beg for his cock. You want it so bad so you better get on your knees and beg him like a slut

[wxshing-aep]

Hiii, I saw ur request post!! could you maybe

write some dating Ethan morales hcs??💖

Dating Ethan Morales Would Include

pairing: ethan morales x reader (all characters are 18+) AN: this will be dating college!ethan cause i thought it'd be more interesting, also didn't proofread this warnings: swearing, gets nsfw in the second half so 18+ (minors dni)

-

you met ethan when you were assigned to tutor him cause he was failing calc. you originally found him to be pretty obnoxious and got tired of his overly nonchalant attitude which culminated in you yelling at him about how he needs to start trying or he's gonna get kicked out. he made no move to respond to your angry rant and just stared back at you with wide eyes and blown out pupils. "what?" you question. "sorry, you're kinda really fucking hot when you're mad"

one of your study sessions ended with him pulling you onto his lap while you made out and his hands roamed your body

he got a little nervous asking you out on a real date even though you've already made out multiple times. he was a bit worried that you'd reject him. he wasn't sure if you'd want a serious relationship with him since he's got a bit of a womanizer reputation. (spoiler alert: you said yes)

his grades got a lot better once he actually started trying because he loved seeing how excited you'd get for him when he showed you a good grade that he got on a test

ethan's love language is definitely physical touch. he needs his hands on you at all times, normally around your waist or resting on your thigh. he's constantly drawing little shapes on whatever part of your bare skin he has access to. most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it

you go on a lot of late night drives that may or may not end with the two of you in the backseat of ethan's car

he loves when you wear his clothes but still consistently accuses you of robbing him. "wearing my jacket again, you little thief" "oh, did you want it ba-" "no"

he is your own personal hype-man, there is no shortage of compliments coming from him

"see you later, gorgeous", "damn, my girl looks sexy", "my girlfriend is the most beautiful person on the planet"

he lets you braid his hair when you're bored

he'll match his nail color to yours but will never admit that he did it on purpose and always insist that it was a coincidence

he gets very jealous, but will deny it if you call him out. you were once at a party very innocently talking to a male friend from your psych seminar about how hard your recent test was before ethan walked over to your conversation.

"oh hey, jack, this is my boyfriend ethan" you introduce him, "ethan, this is-" "yea, don't care" ethan interrupts before pulling you by the waist into a searing kiss until jack had left. "there's no reason to be jealous you know? he's just a friend" "i'm not jealous, but that loser was definitely eye-fucking you" "he was not eye-" "let's go make out"

ethan is very distracting when you're trying to study or do any homework

"baaaaaabe, i'm bored", he whines. "m'sorry but I really have to do this research paper" you respond. "or", he starts, closing the book in your hands and tossing it to the side of your bed, "you can take a much needed break and do me instead"

his friends call him whipped bc of how obsessed with you he is and he doesn't give a fuck cause he is in fact obsessed with you

he lets you color in his tattoos

he definitely tries to teach you how to skateboard and holds both your hands if you're too scared to let go of him

he got you a necklace with his initial on it and has a ring with your initial on it

nsfw 18+

that man definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom cause, let's face it, he was a bit of a whore in the past

you guys have a lot of sex, like a lot of sex to the point where you might have gotten a few noise complaint's from the people that live next to your dorm room

he's a capital M Munch. ethan loves eating pussy, like he definitely does it for his own enjoyment. he could spend hours in between your thighs and any moans or whimpers coming from you just egg him on even more

ethan was so turned on when you agreed to sit on his face

"your face is pretty", you complimented him. "yea? you should sit on it" oh. "like sit on it sit on it?" "sit. on. it." "but what if I like suffocate you or something" "you won't, and if you did i'd die happy" so you did and holy shit does that boy know how to use his mouth. he wouldn't stop till you came on his face multiple times and your legs are shaking around his head

he keeps his hair long cause he likes when you tug on it while he's eating you out. it turns him on so much that he has to actively try not to cum in his pants while he's going down on you

ethan is very vocal, he's not afraid to let you know that he's enjoying it. he whimpers for sure. while he's definitely a giver he loves when you have your mouth on him. his mind goes fuzzy when you're blowing him, moaning your name, shaking under you

he's a bit of a sub and loves when you boss him around. ethan absolutely loses his mind when you choke him while you're riding him. he just loves seeing you on top of him, telling him what to do, using him for your own pleasure. he'll beg, especially if you're edging him

"baby fuck please i need it, i'll be your good boy i promise"

jealous!ethan is definitely more dominant though. "right there baby? look how wet you are for me. he can't fuck you like i can hmm? want you to cum on my dick like a good girl"

this man cannot hide when he's horny. he immediately gets super handsy and will be whisking you off to the nearest bathroom

he loves your boobs. holding them, sucking on your nipples, cumming on them if you're cool with that. your chest is rarely not covered in hickies.

you're obsessed with ethan's hands and he knows it. he knows how to use them and has no problem sneaking them into you under the table on a date night, only to remove his hands from you right before you finish and make a point of sucking the fingers that had just been inside you clean while holding eye contact with you and letting a smug look take over his face

he has a praise kink and definitely responds with "yes ma'am" when you boss him around. he's gotten turned on when you guys are arguing before, there's just something about you yelling at him that goes straight to his dick

if you wear a sundress, oh it's over for him. he'll have you bent over the nearest surface in seconds and the dress stays on.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘𝗥 max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . while on a drive, lando's car breaks down and you're the best mechanic in town.”

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests | taglist )

"Now my phone's dead too." Lando scoffed throwing his phone on the leather seat. He's been standing at the side of the blue carbon covered £380,00+ car for the past 20 minutes. He was in the middle of utterly no where, with no cars passing by ( the people that did stop, happen to not speak English nor Flemish Dutch for that matter yes lando tried speaking dutch to italians ).

What a lucky day.

And it was about to get a lot luckier when another car passing by stopped after Norris waved over. "I need help, with the car." He tried saying slowly, switching to Dutch to try his chances.

"I can . . . I can help push it? to uh . . . car doctor?" "Yes, car doctor, that would be great. Thank you." And so after about 2 hours of hard work, the two men ( well one man, one boy lando small ) arrived at a town where several other men came and helped Lando to the mechanics shop.

"Ask kiku. Uhhh . . . Kiku help with car. Very good."

Lando made sure to thank everyone before they left, going through the door. "Un momento per favore." [one moment please]. A female voice shouted through the garage, she was laying on a skateboard rolled under a car.

"Matteo!" she shouted again startling Lando. "Matteo. Porta qui il tuo culo e aiuta quel dannato uomo." [Matteo. Get your ass over here and help the god damn man]. 'Matteo' seemed to have either passed out and taken a nap or walked out. "marcire All 'inferno . . . Cosa c'è che non va nella tua auto?" [rot in hell . . . what's wrong with your car] You asked giving up on finding your co worker.

"I'm sorry?" Lando asked again feeling nervous in this situation, making you pause your tweaking. You rolled from under the car, looking at the British driver. "There shouldn't be anything wrong with your car." You spoke in English, fluently, rolling back under and continuing with the wrench.

"You didn't even take a look at my car-" He was stuttering. Lando was surprised and shocked. It's not everyday you run into a hot Italian women, that can fix cars and speaks English like she's from Chicago or Milton.

"What did you do to it. Were you racing with it? Drifting? Rallying? Or did you completely destroyed it, cause I don't have any carbon fiber or fancy doors and steering wheels."

"No." He replied to all of your questions. "Then it's fine. There's a gas station two roads south from here-" "You don't even know what the model of the car is." He argued, not believing you.

"You're Lando Norris, aren't you? its a 765LT Spider, McLaren." You answered with no hesitation, making the boy zip his mouth. "What do you want, Mr. Norris?" You asked again getting annoyed.

"I was told to look for, uh, Kiku was it?" He said unsurely. You sighed, grumbling a few Italian cuss words under your breath as you finished your current task. Rolling out, you stood up, lifting your tank top and wiping your face dry from the sweat, which in turn smudged some grease on your face.

Fuck not being attracted to Italian female mechanics, you were hot. Very attractive in Lando's eyes.

"I'm Kiku." You told him, handing him the greasy wrench. It was a stupid nickname a few friends gave you as a joke, and it stuck. You looked out at his car hand on your hip as you examined it. "Can you turn it on?" You asked as you approached it, ready to open the back trunk and check the engine.

Lando looked grossed out at the wrench, setting it on a random surface as he unlocked the truck. You examined the car for the next 15 minutes. "I can give it back tomorrow. It's not a big problem. Like I said, you're just out of gas."

"But the measure doesn't say that. And If it's just out of gas, shouldn't you be able to give it back today?" "Yeah. That's the problem, your fuel sender is lying to you and I have to change it." You patted his back, moving back into your garage.

"But I can't stay here forever." "What's wrong with this place?" You asked frowning, looking him in the eye. Lando was going to open his mouth before he closed it quickly. "Nothing I just don't-" why was he rushing? He didn't have places to be at the moment. ". . . I don't have a place to stay?" He answered, more like asked from how unsure of himself he was.

You looked at him for a few seconds. "You can wait over there, just don't touch anything." You told him sighing, nodding towards a few chairs near your office.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'm not getting in." Lando refused, looking at your green car. Well it wasn't any green car. It was a classic, a Ferrari 250 gte. Highlight Ferrari. "Yeah, I'm definitely not getting it."

"Suit yourself, the coyotes here would not pass on eating you alive." You joked, not even sure if there were coyotes. "It's not everyday you get to eat a formula one driver, especially a British McLaren driver named Norris." Yea that statement did it for Lando, quickly getting in the car and closing the door after him.

"Good boy." You humed, not really thinking about it as you pulled out the driveway and made your way home. Lando could feel his face redden, hearing your praise, crossing his arms and huffing.

When you arrived at your house, the McLaren diver was quick to jump out first. "Think fast." Lando turned around, quickly catching the keys you tossed. He dropped them once he saw the yellow and black logo with a yelp.

You were laughing at him, moving to his side and picking up the keys, moving towards the house. "casa mia è casa tua." you told him as soon as you unlocked the door. Landor entered after you, copying you as you took your shoes off. The first thing the British driver felt was warmth, your space was giving him solace. This place felt like home.

"You can look around, I'm not going to take long in the shower." You set your bag down on the floor near the couch, making your way to the bathroom. Land did look around, he felt curious. You clearly knew him but he knew so little about you. While scouting for information he found your collection of music discs.

When finally came out fresh, Lando was quick to ask you about a few pictures he found. You two were quickly becoming close with one another. Sharing stories and jokes.

"What about this one?" Lando pointed to one on the grand piano. "Oh yea, I can totally see the picture, Mr. Norris." You chuckled. You were busy with your hands, making dinner for both of you ( you usually ordered out but it world be rude to do that with a guest around so you were putting your heart out in the spaghetti you wee making from scratch, something you knew would impress the McLaren driver ).

Lando picked up the photo frame walking over to you. "Why do you keep calling me by my last name? I have a first name, or did you forget." He chuckled looking at you. "Cause your first name sounds like London." You teased joking. It was out of respect, you did not want to get on his bad side, and it did sound like London just a bit.

Lando smiled laughing. "Well, I'd rather you call me by my first name." "Of course, Mr. Norris." You teased, leaning your forearms on the counter, flicking some flower on his face. He only held up the photo in return. "Oh, I remember this." You hummed, wiping your hand in a towel, taking the photo.

"It was before the last race for the European karting championship. I think I was . . . eleven in that picture?" Lando moved beside you looking down at it. You were in your kart, with your helmet on holding a thumbs up.

You took a moment looking at the photo, your father was sitting beside you on the floor, delivering the kart it's last few tweaks before the race. "You karted?" Lando asked, ruining the moment.

"No." You sarcastically replied, pushing the picture on his chest. "I flew planes at the age of two." You rolled your eyes. "Did you win?" "Hell yeah, I did. Do I look like some weak ass sissy?" You replied laughing. "That championship was mine. I Literally beat up Albon and Leclerc. "

"Really?" He was interested, leaning forward to listen closely. "What else did you race in?" "Just that really." You shrugged smiling. "Other than the karting track a few blocks down." "There's a karting track a few blocks down?" You looked at him blinking quietly. "I think answered your question before you answered it."

The boy looked away chuckling nervously. "Right." "I can drop you off tomorrow morning while I fix your car." You offered as you gently cooked the chicken alfredo. "Really?" You looked back at him deadpanning. "I mean, I'd enjoy that. Thank you."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey, I never got to ask, why didn't you continue with racing? You won the championship after all. We could've been competing in f1 together." The sun had already risen again and Lando was unwillingly sitting in your car as you drove through the town. "Not everyone is high born, Norris." You sighed, shrugging. "It's my cannon event. Besides, I'm happy like this."

After finally fixing the lying fuel measure, you drove the McLaren to the karting track, honking the horn to get the attention of the race car driver.

Turning back from the fence, Lando smiled upon seeing you lean on the blue carbon in the car park. "You fixed her!" "Of course I did." You chuckled, tossing him his keys once he was close enough. "You're free to go Mr. Norris." You chuckled getting off the McLaren and patting his back. "I don't need to leave just yet . . . by the way do you have plans next week?" "Why what are you up to."

lando.jpg

lando.jpg lesson learned, always carry a portable car mechanic with you

alex_albon ease my heart and tell me thats not who i think it is ↳ youruser long time no see alex ↳ alex_albon THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPLES YOU ↳ user 💀

charles_leclerc omg ew, kart theif ↳ youruser you're ew, you took my kart first! ↳ charles_leclerc it was a good kart ↳ alex_albon your only win ↳ charles_leclerc THATS MEAN

user who's that ↳ maxverstappen1 a nightmare ↳ youruser hey max ↳ maxverstappen1 BEGONE DEMON

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 57

part 1 | part 56 | ao3

“I need a ride.”

Max is glaring at him over the counter with a skateboard tucked under her arm, no hello and no further explanation because why should he deserve one? Seriously, what is this? National Annoy Your Babysitter Day?

Steve leans over his side of the desk and rests his weight on his forearms, giving her an unimpressed look. "Did Dustin put you up to this?"

"To... needing a ride?" she asks him like he's stupid. God. All these kids are little assholes.

"Uh, yeah to needing a ride." He straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest and resting a hip against the counter. "How do I know this isn't some convenient little-" he snaps his fingers for the word "-little scheme you shitheads cooked up to get me to sub in for Hellfire?"

"Steve," she says with feeling. Tucks her chin and holds his gaze. "Do I look like a dork to you?"

And, like, he can’t not take the opportunity, right? She handed it to him on a platter. He scans his eyes over her face, playing it up and humming to himself like he's just really not sure, like he needs another minute to think hard about the question.

"Oh, screw you!" She flips him the bird, but he can tell she's trying not to smile because he’s doing the same thing. Can feel himself caving already like a total softie. Something about these kids, man.

"Okay," he says; feels his face doing something tender and vaguely pathetic. He can't have her thinking he's gone too soft, though — that's how he ends up with another 'unlicensed teen driving his car while he's concussed' situation on his hands — so he pushes off the counter, widening his stance and pointing at her. "I’ll give you a ride, but you can't touch my radio.”

"Fine."

"And I'm dropping you off by 5:30."

That one, she protests. "Five-thirty?”

"Five-three-oh. I have a date tonight."

"Ew."

Wow. The goddamn entitlement. Like he isn’t doing her a huge favor right now. "So what I'm hearing is that you don't want that ride after all."

"I didn't say that," she says in a low rush.

"Mhmm." He glances down at the clock. "My shift's up in ten minutes. You can hang out in here while I finish up if you don't make a mess."

"Oh, if I don't make a mess?" she mocks. "Wow. So generous."

"Thank you," he answers. He goes back to working, keeping an eye on her browsing the aisles while he runs through his end-of-shift tasks — wipes down his work space, pulls his drawer. She seems bothered. On edge. Every time he glances over she's either tapping her foot or chewing her lip or throwing tense looks over her shoulder like someone's watching. If Steve didn't know her he'd think she was psyching herself up to shoplift.

But Steve does know her; knows all the crazy, horrifying shit that she's seen.

The twitchy way she's moving is starting to give him goosebumps.

When he goes to the back to clock out, to put his stuff up and say hey to Keith, she follows him. Hesitantly calling his name down the hall, a nervous quiver in her voice.

"Steve," she says, poking her head around the office door. Quiet. Urgent. Her face so suddenly pale that she looks carsick.

Keith wipes grease on a stack of reports and says, "Hey, you can't be back here," through a mouthful of chips.

Max ignores him. "Steve, I need to go."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, one second, just gotta—"

"—No, now."

Steve turns and starts counting his drawer as fast as he can. The numbers jumble in his head. He curses under his breath and starts again. Twenty, forty, sixty, seventy—

"Steve!"

"Okay, Jesus, I'm hurrying!"

Eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-one, two, three—

Max snatches his keyring off of his vest.

“Hey! What the- Max!” he shouts as he chases after her.

She’s already tugging open the driver’s side door by the time he catches up. Got a headstart while he was begging Keith not to fire him for running out without finishing his count.

"What the hell?" he demands, wrapping a hand around the fist she’s holding his stolen keys in.

She glares at him over the car door. “I’ve driven it before.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t have my permission then, either, you little shit.” Steve pries her hand open and takes back the keys. Frowns at her as she sneers right back.

Fucking stalemate with a fourteen year old girl, that’s what Steve Harrington’s life has turned into.

But under the bravado he can see that she's afraid, that something's seriously spooked her, and he needs to know what it is.

“…..Go around,” he sighs and slides into the car.

—

part 58

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[infamous-if]

.1

As won by the poll, the MC x Seven first kiss drabble is first! A few things: 1) this drabble is fucking long sorry and 2) though this is what I imagine their first kiss to be like, I don't want to go as far as saying it's completely canon, mostly because I'm sure it can go many different ways with different types of MC's. And 3rd) I tried really hard to make this fluffy and not so serious and I'm sure you can see the shift where I thought 'oh crap' but...I am not a fluff writer and I will be working on that lmao 4th) as always, I do not edit my drabbles and I really only do one draft of them so excuse the wordy/awkward sentences or typos or any of that sort and finally, sorry about that last line lmfao

“Have any of you seen Seven?”

That’s the question you’ve been asking all night since your band left The Golden Spoon, a bar in the crux of the city. It had one of your best audiences in recent memory; there were no lulls in engagement, no dull moments that made you question yourself. People loved the songs and danced their hearts out, some even asked for pictures once the set was over. Fame, however small, feels pretty fucking good. 

That holds the most truth in Seven. After the set was over, they were on a high, laughing and talking to anyone who offered them even a sliver of their time. That’s usually how it goes with a successful set--Seven becomes a magnet for all sorts of attention. Unreachable, untouchable. No wonder you barely had a chance to talk to them after leaving.

It didn’t bother you, considering you were all heading to the bar owner’s apartment for a small after-party. You just assumed you’d talk to Seven there, considering it’s an apartment. Eight-hundred square feet at most. Small enough that you could spot Seven’s familiar red bandana in any crowd. 

Or not. 

The group you just asked share equally confused looks and answer with varying shrugs. 

You huff, pushing through the slightly sparse but growing crowd. You maneuver through the kitchen and ask a haggle of women who claim they didn’t even see Seven arrive. The man standing alone in the hall? Saw Seven once and never again.

You’re growing frustrated.

With every answer, your impatient grows. Where the hell could Seven be? You came with them but were quickly swept away by the hordes of people throwing various questions and praise your way. Seven hasn’t responded to any of your texts either, which sprouts up a small seed of worry in you. 

“Hey, MC!” 

You look up to see Jazzy beckoning you over to the couch in the living room, where most people have congregated. In the center stands Rowan, gesticulating wildly as he tells a story from high school...one you’re sure you’ve heard many times before.

Jazzy waves you over again and you sigh. Half your mind still on Seven’s whereabouts, you stride through the living room and take a seat in the corner of the couch next to Iris, half your body pressed against the armrest.

“…and that’s when I had to sit down because I kid you not, I was about to fucking eat concrete…”

The group laughs as Rowan weaves a tale of failed skateboarding antics. The names of you and your friends come up a few times, and whenever Seven is mentioned you can’t help but jolt and look around in hopes that they slipped back inside at some point in the story. With every mention, your body deflates further and further.

Until your phone buzzes. 

You turn it around, only to catch Seven finally responding to your million texts asking where they are.

Seven: Roof

You quirk a brow at the message—the one word that says so much—and type something quickly in return.

You: Thought you died.

Another buzz.

Seven: Can’t get rid of me that easily.

You snort, though no one else is laughing. You lower your phone a bit to appear engaged but send back a quick text. 

You: Aw, really? I was hoping I’d finally be free of you.

Seven: Har-har. Are you coming or not? I’m feeling lonelyyyy

Your heart races and another laugh bubbles out of you when Seven sends a GIF of someone ungracefully falling on the floor. You didn’t realize how much of a relief it is to hear from them until now, seeing Seven’s text on your screen. Is your body that attuned to them? That, whenever they’re gone, you can feel their absence, so palpable it’s as if a part of you is missing? When they’re near, you feel more than complete. Drowning in so much joy that it’s almost overwhelming?

What do you call that?

You shake away the thoughts and send a reply: Coming. 

Brushing yourself off when you stand, you catch your friends looking at you. You shoot Rowan a small smile and walk out of the living room, where you quickly hear him go into another story about who-knows-what. At least the party seems interested.

Another buzz. 

Seven: Bring some bears please

You: Bears? 

Seven: Beers. Whatever. 

Shaking your head, you put your phone away and divert your path to the kitchen where you swipe two bottles of beer. You use the end of the counter to pop open the tops before making your way out of the apartment…only to soon realize you don’t actually don’t know where you’re going.

Dangling the beers between two fingers, you take out your phone. 

You: Where am I going?

Seven: Are you serious? It’s a roof. Just go up.

Seven: lol

You: I will kill you.

Seven: OMG you really are trying to get rid of me

You: Seven Lawless

Seven: Using my whole name? Just shivered. The roof entrance is down the hall to your left. Ignore the signs telling you…not to go to the roof. 

You move to the door and sure enough, there is a large sign warning of any trespassers. 

You: You mean the sign saying that ‘violators will be fined and/or arrested?’

Seven: Ignore it. It’s just a very strong suggestion

Seven: (trust me) 

Scoffing, you push it open with your shoulder and go up the single flight of stairs to the roof. Stepping outside grants you a cacophony of sounds; car horns, the sound of the wind rushing past your cheeks, music playing from Seven’s phone. 

“I’m starting to think you look at the floor plan of every place you enter just to find the roof,” you say by way of greeting as you approach them.

Seven looks behind their shoulder from their spot on the ledge, their previously blank face widening into a sly grin. 

Your heart races at the image of Seven smiling at you, though you quickly push it down. You don’t know what’s been happening but lately, everything Seven does pulls a reaction from you. A simple look makes your stomach squeeze. A brush of their hand sends goosebumps up your arms. A smile can throw your whole body out of whack. 

“I needed a break,” Seven replies, turning back around to face ahead. As you get closer, you see their legs dangling over the edge. It’s not too far below—the building is four stories—but it’s still enough to give you vertigo when you go to sit next to them. “Someone asked me to sign their divorce papers."

Your lip twitches as you hand them a bottle. “Did you?”

Seven looks over to you, gaze glittering beneath stray strands of dark hair that fall in front of their eyes. “Yes.” 

You laugh and Seven swats your following hand away in your attempt to shove them to the side. “Woah, woah!” Their brief panic from the possibility of falling is laced with humor and you let out a small, ‘sorry!’ that Seven waves off. 

"Signing divorce papers," you muse. "I wonder what we'll sign when we're global rockstars."

Their humor subsides, and their smile weakens as they toy with their bottle. You wait, silent, as Seven inhales through their nose and says, “Do you ever regret it?” They gesture vaguely around them. “Doing…all of this?”

You face ahead and think about it, stretching your legs out in front of you. “Not really. Do you?”

Seven takes a swig of their drink before setting it down next to them, lifting both shoulders in a quick shrug. “No. This is all I ever wanted to do.”

“Then why don’t you sound so convinced?”

Their eyes cut to yours and they snort a little. 

“Hey, you brought it up,” you prod.

They huff through their nose, eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. “Shut up.” Once again, their humor is brief, and you start to think that there must be something within Seven that’s torn, fighting to come out. It wouldn’t surprise you; Seven has always loved too much, hurt too much, felt too much. They call it a Fatal Flaw, how attached they get, but really, you find it endearing. It’s rare to find people like them in this world. You wish they knew that. “Ah, I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

You nudge them. “Say it.” 

They begin rocking back and forth in thought, nudging you back every time they move. “Sometimes…when I’m on stage…” They clear their throat. “Sometimes I feel so lonely.”

Oh.

You expected many things, but not that. 

Lonely? Seven is lonely? Granted, Seven hasn’t had the greatest home life, but you assumed that they found an abundance of people to surround themselves with. Hell, they looked like they were having the time of their life after the gig!

Seven’s frowning now, their eyes glazing over with an emotion you can’t read. “I see all those faces and I love it. The attention. The way they sing our songs. I feel fucking alive, you know?”

You nod, hanging on to every word. You understand them; the feeling of music and standing on that stage, singing emotions and states of being that can’t be explained in any other way but through song.

“But then I look back and…” They chew on their inner cheek, brows furrowing as they evidently search for the right words. “I wonder if they see me. Like really see me.” 

Your lips part. For a moment, you’re speechless. “Sev—“

“And I know it’s unfair to think that,” Seven breaks in quickly. “They’re fans. I shouldn’t put so much responsibility on them, but it just….fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No!” you say. Seven jolts and whips their head toward you, giving you a look of alarm. “I get what you’re saying.” You adjust to face them completely. “I feel it too, sometimes. You just want to be seen not as Seven Lawless but…” You clear your throat. “Seven Duckstein. You know?”

Seven holds your gaze. Their eyes sparkle under the fairy lights that are strung around the lattice detailing on the roof. As their eyes dart around your face, searching for something, you wonder if it was wrong to bring up their real name. It’s always been a sore topic for them, amongst other things. You just hope Sev understands what you’re trying to say. 

They crack a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

You let out a small breath of relief, grateful Seven understands what you mean. You gaze around, looking down at the street below. Distantly, you can feel Seven’s eyes still on you. Your skin burns under their stare, but you do your best to keep looking at the tiny people running inside shops, chatting, and slipping into cars. Living entire lives that you will never know the depth of. 

You wonder if you have learned the true depth of Seven Duckstein. Even after all these years…they still seem like a mystery to you. 

And you sort of hate how exciting that feels. As if uncovering the hidden layers of your best friend is something to look forward to. 

“I’m not lonely with you, though.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet theirs. You laugh a little. “How could you be? I’m with you 24/7.”

Seven rolls their eyes and it’s their turn to shove you. “Can you be serious a sec? I’m trying to tell you I appreciate you.” They drag the syllables on the word ‘appreciate,’ trying to emphasize the severity of the moment. 

You raise your palms in mock surrender. “Keep going. I’m listening.”

They pause for a beat. “No. I’m nervous.”

“What!”

“Too much attention.”

“You’re a performer?!”

They raise a finger. “That’s different.” 

“Oh, please—“

Somehow you and Seven fall in a lighthearted round of bickering, swatting each other’s hands as you playfully fight. That fighting soon turns into tickling, and Seven’s usually even voice turns into high-pitched squeals that you wish you could record to use against them later.

You don’t know how it happened, but somehow Seven ends up on their back, sighing happily at the darkened sky that hovers over you both. You lean on your side, your body pressed against Seven’s, and rest your head on your hand.

“Come onnnn,” you prod, poking their rib. They squirm. “Tell me how much you appreciate me.” Your voice softens as Seven’s humor dies. “Tell me how you really feel.”

You meant for it to come out as a joke, but the delicacy in your voice betrays the true intention that’s hiding deep within you.

Seven’s eyes slowly, hesitantly, glide away from the stars pulsing in the sky to meet your eyes. With their hair framing their face, their small smile, and the glare of the fairy lights dancing on their face, they have never looked so vulnerable.

So…different. 

“I don’t think I should.”

That has you stiffening. A flare of panic rises in your stomach. What does Seven mean by that? Part of you knows but…no. You’re being ridiculous. 

They turn their head away, rolling their lips. It’s silent for a moment. You convince yourself Seven won’t speak until they say, “I’m afraid. Of you.”

“What?” you blurt, eyes wide. You hardly know how to act right now. This conversation has gone a direction you’re not sure of.

They turn back to face you. “You have too much power over me. It scares me.”

You open your mouth to speak. The only thing that comes out is a pathetic noise from your throat.

Seven snorts at your reaction, frowning at the sky. “You really don’t know the effect you have on others.”

“I doubt I have any impact on others," you mutter, feeling oddly self-conscious.

“Fine then. You don’t know the effect you have on me.” They huff, throwing their bandana aside to run a hand through their hair in frustration. “It’s kind of annoying.”

You sputter out a laugh, reaching out to poke them again. “Are you seriously insulting me—“ 

Seven grabs your hand mid-way, their skin warm against yours. You look down, staring at the polish on their nails as they curl their hand around your palm. “I’m not trying to insult you.” 

“Then what are you trying to do?” you mumble, your eyes still on your joined skin. 

“I’m trying to do as you asked.” Seven inhales a shuddering breath. “I’m telling you how I really feel.”

You jerk a nod. “Okay. Sorry.” Your voice is quiet. “Go.”

Silence.

Seven’s lip twitches as they look up at you. “Nervous again. Too much attention.”

“Fuck off,” you throw out, though there��s no strength behind your words. 

It’s Seven’s turn to apologize. “Sorry.” They swallow. “I just think I might mess up my words with you looking at me.” 

You debate something. Debate the logic behind whatever you’re going to say next. This moment feels too big to make decisions on feelings you don’t know are fleeting or not. This is Seven. Your best friend. Anything you do will permanently change the comfortable camaraderie you two have had since you were kids. 

But…you can’t stop from thinking it might be worth it anyway. 

“Then don’t use words.” 

Seven’s lips part, mostly from surprise. And then you see it; the shift in their expression-- from uncertain to determined. Their eyes darken and slowly, they release their grip on your hand to place it on the back of your neck, pulling you toward them. 

Your heart races in your chest. Are you two really doing this? After years of casual closeness; sleepovers, handshakes, private looks across crowded rooms. Has there been an underlying attraction you just never paid attention to? Or maybe you did, and both of you were too afraid to confront it. 

Seven is slow at firs, as if they aren't quite sure they should be doing this after all. But when you don’t pull away they grow the confidence to close the remaining inches of space between you.

Kissing Seven isn't like anything you imagined. And you can't lie; you've imagined it plenty of times.

What is happening...?

Lips warm against yours, you clutch the leather of their jacket as they pull you closer. The kiss is a messy and desperate dance of teeth and tongues but you don’t mind. Not when Seven tastes like gum and alcohol and is sending goosebumps down your arms as they absently run circles on the skin of your neck. 

Messy seems about right.

Seven smells of lavender and pine and mint and so many other smells you never noticed until now, when you’re so aware of them and their existence that your brain can’t make out any words except Seven Seven Seven.

Seven kisses you like it's their own salvation; as if kissing you now is the only thing anchoring them to this moment. As if pulling away means breaking whatever dream you two have found yourselves in. So they pull you even closer, deepening the kiss and sighing happily into your mouth.

You could kiss Seven Lawless all night. Shit, you could kiss Seven Lawless forever.

They tug on your lower lip with their teeth just lightly before closing their mouth to plant a more chaste kiss before pulling away. You swallow a frustrated groan, stifling the urge to pull them back into another kiss. 

Your eyes flutter open at the loss of warmth.

"That...that was a lot better than I thought," they breathe.

"You've thought about it?" you joke, careful not to speak too loudly in fear of ruining the moment.

Their answering nod is jerky. "Yeah. An embarrassing amount of times."

You both laugh. The humor quickly dies. Then...the worst part comes: the silence.

The horrible, awkward silence.

See, no one ever talks about what comes afterward. The reality of realizing what it is you've just done. The panic that follows the post-kiss clarity.

“Uh…”

“Er…”

They slowly drop their hand from your neck. 

And then they burst up, making you fall back on your ass. 

“You—“ They whirl around. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Me?!” you guffaw, standing on your feet as well. “You mean you kissed me!”

“Me?” They stand there, and then a manic, happy laugh escapes them. You watch as they put their hands on both of their cheeks, blowing out a long breath. “So I did, didn’t I?”

It’s your turn to laugh. You feel drunk. “Yeah. You did.”

“You kissed me back.” Their voice comes out almost accusatory.

“Yeah.” Your brows furrow. “…I did.”

Seven and you stand there. A rush of wind passes. Neither of you speak.

Until both of you do.

“That—“

“We—“

Seven physically clamps their mouth shut with their hand. Your brain is a static fuzz of nothingness. 

Songwriters at a loss for words. It’s almost funny. 

“Is…” You clear your throat. “Is that how you really feel?”

Seven meets your eyes and then quickly looks away. “Yeah.” A mumble. “For a while now.”

Your eyes widen. “I—“

“Don’t say anything!” Seven raises a hand, stopping you. 

You jolt, mostly because Seven just acted like they saw a bug or something. “What!”

“You know in the movies and TV shows where a person confesses to another person and that other person feels obligated to say something back even though they likely didn’t think it through as long as the other person?” Seven says in one breath.

You blink. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“—well, I always found that to be pathetic. Almost like a pity response.” They begin nervously smoothing their hands on their pants, exhaling a heavy sigh. “Just don’t…say anything, okay?”

“Seven.”

Seven, still a bit frantic, comes over to you and puts their hands on your shoulders. “Just forget this happened. I’ll get over it. I just…I may have drank a bit and I needed to get it out of my system and I don’t want this to ruin what we have.” 

You have whiplash. Maybe it was you who drank too much. You two were just kissing—kissing—and now Seven is telling you to forget it...?

“That kiss was in the heat of the moment and I mean, I did like it but it may be weird and we’ve been best friends for so long that I know you might find it odd. And hey,“--they let out a burst of shaky laughter--"maybe we can write a song out of thi--'

You pull their face forward, stifling the rest of their words in another pathetically desperate kiss that burns you all over.

It takes Seven a few seconds to catch up, but when they do, their hands go from your shoulders to your cheeks, cupping your face.

By the time you pull away, you're both slightly breathless. You say, “Just…shut up.”

Seven simply stares at you, parted lips glistening and eyes peering at you as if you’re a painting in the Louvre. Like you're something worth their awe and wonder. 

Maybe it’s now, just like when they were laying down, that Seven is seeing you differently too.

The sound of metal squeaks in the air with the door opening. You and Seven jolt, quickly shuffling away from each other just as Rowan, Iris, Devyn, and Jazzy appear. 

“We were looking for you gu—what’s going on?” Jazzy asks, her eyes darting between you two.

“Nothing.” Seven takes a wide step away from you, swiping a hand across their lips. You swear you see the shadow of a smile on their face. “We were just...talking.”

“You were missing the party, Sev Sev.” Jazzy comes over to Seven and throws her arm around their neck in some sort of move that can’t possibly be comfortable. “Where did you go?”

“Sorry, Jazz Jazz,” Seven jokes back, exasperated. They keep one eye on you as Jazzy pulls them away back inside. They steal one glance at you before they disappear down the stairs.

You stand there, ruminating over what just happened. Your lips still sting and the phantom touch of Seven’s mouth still makes the hair on your arms rise.

“You okay?” 

Rowan’s voice has you jolting back to the present. “What?”

“You and Seven.” Rowan gestures at you. “Are you guys alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” You wave a dismissive hand as you begin walking back inside. “Totally. We’re just peachy. What are we doing?”

“We’re heading home, actually,” Iris says, shooting you a curious look. “Party got boring.”

You snort, and you and your friends walk down the stairs to meet Seven and Jazzy in the hall. Seven looks your way and quickly averts their gaze, grazing the bottom of their teeth along their lip in evident thought.

You know, eventually, you and Seven will have to talk about…whatever that was that just happened. You’re not quite sure yet what it means. Though you do know one thing: tonight has changed something. Suddenly your friendship is something far more than precious: it’s fragile. And you can’t help but wonder what that kiss means for it.

“Should we get something to eat?” Iris asks the group as you saunter out of the building. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Rowan snorts, weaving Iris’s jab. 

“I’m okay with anything you want.” As Seven says this, they look over to you, and you know they’re not just talking about food.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Me too.”

“Burgers it is,” Iris says. Devyn hums in agreement.

Seven smiles at you, and you can feel the shift in them. When they gaze at you, something else lies there. Something else that makes your heart quicken.

Yeah, you may not know what comes next in your friendship, but you do know one thing: you and Seven will never part.

And that thought comforts you.

[farmerstarter]

Hi!! Could you do Sam HCs? It can be literally anything. I just love him so much :)

ʚ🛹ɞ ˚ · . Random Sam Headcanons

Tags: Sam from SDV x gn! reader

Hi! I'm so sorry for the super super super late response. Life has been pretty busy for the past few months and I haven't had the time to get on Tumblr. But, I'm slowly coming back to it! Anyway, likes and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy, loves! 🌷🫶

🎸 He was absolutely thrilled when you asked him to teach you how to skateboard. He immediately came knocking on your door the first thing in the morning the day after you brought it up, carrying his skateboard and some gear. You two spent the whole day going over the basics, with Sam holding your hands and trying not to laugh when you would scream over the tiniest things (“I’m going to die, Sam!” “It’s just a pebble!”). A cute add-on: Vincent and your pet would tag along sometimes, and they took it upon themselves to be your personal cheerleaders. After some time and a few bumps and bruises, you and Sam would often skateboard all around the town, trying to impress each other with tricks. Sam has your name etched on his skateboard, and you have his name on yours.

🎸 Personal HC where Sam and Vincent stumbled inside the fruit bat cave while they were visiting. Sam got bit by a bat, nothing too serious. Vincent is horrified, and Sam decided to mess with him by pretending to be a vampire. Suspiciously, you find yourself missing a jar of your homemade jam. Turns out, Sam “borrowed” it (And by that, I mean he scribbled a little note on the place where your jam used to be), and covered it all over his face pretending it’s blood. He got a big scolding from Jodi right after though.

🎸 Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship! It all started when Sam looked into the sewer to show Vincent that no, there is no monster in the sewage canal. He was soon face to face with a shadow man and it was over. Krobus has a knack for beating the hard levels on Sam's video game and their friendship budded from there. Sometimes, Sam would disguise Krobus with his clothes so they can watch movies in the cinema together. You found out about them when you walked in on Sam trying to teach Krobus how to play the drums in the greenhouse.

🎸 Sam asked Jodi to teach him how to bake after he had the bright idea to ask you out on a picnic when you two started dating. It all started when Penny showed him those fancy little cakes that she ordered from Zuzu City as a treat for Vincent after the kid passed his math exam. Penny mentioned how you saw those cakes when she bumped into you by the bus stop and thought they were cute. Cue a light bulb in Sam’s head. Sam’s not the best cook, but he’s got the enthusiasm. He ended up with a lopsided two-tier cake with a little blob of fondant on top of it (Vincent’s lips pursed, “What’s with the brown rock?” Sam sputtered while Jodi’s laughter chittered in the air close by. “It’s a chicken!”). Sam would make up for it years later when he would remake the same cake for your wedding anniversary.

🎸 Sam would randomly call you in the middle of a rainy day and just play guitar riffs. No words exchanged. When he’s done, he will just hang up.

🎸 Sam gives you pretty seashells that he and Vincent dig up on the beach (sometimes with a little help from Elliott and Willy) instead of flower bouquets. He doesn’t want to risk sneezing all over you when the pollen would inevitably make his nose red.

🎸 Sam had a whole phase of wearing a cowboy hat when he’s working on the farm for the first few months.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

18 | prologue

summary: billy has always loved the sea and his mother, and yet he has always known that love wasn't for him. Now that he's older he just has his Camaro and the routine of leaving girls bed's at dawn, yet nothing prepared him for what he saw on one of his nights out.

warnings: domestic abuse, swearing, mentions of sex.

listen to: Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince - Taylor Swift | Family line - Conan Gray | This love - Maroon 5 (playlist here)

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

Billy Hargrove had always known that love wasn’t for him. 

He might’ve not known it when he was too young when he didn’t manage to perceive what kind of relationship his parents had but god, as soon as he realized it, his perception of loved seemed forever tainted. 

He loved his mother, he truly did. She was always there for him, she knew about his dreams and his fears and she never judged him for them. She gave him all the love that a mother would, but even a bit more as it seemed like his father didn’t really like him. 

Neil Hargrove was a harsh man, he never showed even a drop of kindness to anyone and even less to his son. He was violent beyond words and although his punches were hard on Billy’s body, his words hit him even harder. It came to a point that Billy knew what his father would say about him as if it was a poem he had to memorize for school, it usually went as: you are worthless, how could I have such an idiot kid? I’m supposed to raise this pussy? Such a waste of space. 

It hurt him a lot, he would spend hours crying by his mother’s side. 

He didn’t believe it could get any worse, and yet it did. 

As he grew older, he didn’t hide in his room like before when the fights between his parents started. The yelling, the screaming, the broken plates, the insults, and soon the punches that ended up with him in the middle trying to defend his mother against his father. 

Not that he could do much at ten. 

It wasn’t long before the only place where he felt safe wasn’t at home but on the ocean. He loved the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand, he loved the warm summer breeze that cooled off his cheeks and nose when he came to breathe from the water. Soon, his mother got him a surfboard and he couldn’t have been happier. He was so good at it, that his mother and others called him a natural. He could spend hours surfing without a care in the world, he liked how his golden curls soaked with the seawater and feeling like he was all alone as he was draped on his surfboard while resting. 

And then his mother left him. 

Billy didn’t surf again after that, it hurt too much. He asked her for so long if she was going to come back for him and yet although she had assured her that she would with a trembling voice, it never happened. 

He has left with his dad.

He never went surfing again. 

After that, something changed in Billy. 

He remembered his first report cards, they described him as an extroverted and smart kid, who was kind to his classmates but soon the report cards turned into warnings of his violent tendencies and the multiple fights he got on with classmates of him over the smallest disagreement. People started to fear him at school and soon was known for starting and ending fights. 

Then, his father married Susan Mayfield who later turned into Susan Hargrove. She was a beautiful, feminine, and most importantly a quiet woman, who obeyed his father and would stay quiet, unlike his mother. She also had a kid that was the opposite of herself. Max was a tomboy and she didn’t like anything that normal girls would like, she was never quiet and had a lot of opinions. If Billy was being honest, he saw a lot of him in Max. 

Nonetheless, Billy’s distrustful demeanor didn’t allow him and Max to get along a lot of the time at first, although sometimes they did and Billy actually felt okay?

It started small, with Billy watching Halloween and Max joining in. Billy taught Max how to ride a skateboard that he was already getting bored as he thought about the car he wanted to buy when he turned sixteen. Billy then taught her how to actually fight. And the moments whenever Billy’s dad beat him, Max stood up for him and tried to protect him since Neil never got it in him to hit Max, she offered him ice after any fight and they would sit alone without talking while listening to music. 

He wouldn’t say he loved her as a sister, but he appreciated her.

Soon, after his sixteen birthday, his favorite place became his Camaro. He had worked almost every day since he was fourteen to save enough money to afford it and he spend every day in that car. A deep part inside of him knew that his car reminded him of surfing and the ocean. The waves crashing against the sand were replaced by the engine of his car, the warm summer breeze could also be felt if he pulled all of his windows down and he was an actually good driver although he could be a little reckless. 

Most importantly, his appearance plus the car allowed him to get some interesting attention from girls. 

He didn’t realize it probably until he started High School, how people would watch him arrive at his cars, how girls would stare at him and how her cheeks would be tainted pink if he got too close to them and soon Billy had his first kiss. Honestly, it was mostly a stolen one by Sharon Carter, who had grabbed Billy by the neck and put her tongue down his throat. 

He didn’t particularly enjoy it but with time everything got better.

Soon, Billy realized that if he didn’t enjoy his life and if his home was hell, he decided to take pleasure where he may find it since it was so scarce for him. He started to have fun with girls, multiple girls,  but if he was being honest he was pretty picky on who he decided to go out with. Some called Billy a slut and he got the reputation because it did precede him since he was no one’s boyfriend but still, he didn’t particularly enjoy it and he really thought he had a certain code of honor. 

He always was pretty clear about what he wanted, which was to mess around and have sex. He always was clear on what he wanted and what he was willing to give. So, he’d enjoyed the company of girls and enjoyed it well but as soon as he started to notice or feel like they were getting too close, too familiar, and have that glimmer in their eyes that only meant one thing, Billy would drop them and run away. 

He did it in California, and he did it in Hawkins. 

Nonetheless, with Summer over, Tommy and Carol had been all over Billy talking about how he probably should get a Queen otherwise his popularity would decline. He didn’t understand that if he was being honest, he believed that he was still on top but they gave him multiple reasons, such as the fear of the school wasn’t enough, that if he played with too many girls he would become an asshole and that if he wanted to graduate being Hawkin’s King, he should at least meet one girl to go to the major events and become the ‘it couple’. 

Billy really thought it was mostly bullshit that Carol had seen in a movie or a magazine but it made him wonder. Billy didn’t ever feel like he was worth something outside the halls of the school and if he lost that, although he didn’t even enjoy being King that much, what worth would he have?

Those were the thoughts that were plaguing him as he drove in the early hours of the morning after leaving the house of his latest fling. He didn’t get too much sleep after the fact or when Tina started to cry once he told her he was done. Honestly, Billy just wanted to cease his thoughts about everything as he drove slowly on the foggy street outside of the suburbs with no end. 

And then he heard the roar of an engine that snapped him wide awake. 

He turned to his right to see someone. 

On a motorcycle. 

Not any motorcycle but a fucking Yamaha Vmax. 

Billy squinted his eyes and then they opened wide as plates as they saw their legs, or her legs, the short skirt was riled up by the way she was leaning on her bike as she upped the speed. 

He didn’t understand if she was going so fast because of the fun of it or because she was actually running away from something. He understood the thrill of going fast in his own car but the way she was driving was right down insane, he was aware that if Hopper caught someone going on the road like that they would be detained as soon as possible, and yet she didn’t seem to care. 

And something lighted up in Billy. 

A thrill, a desire, something just made him throw his caution out the window.

Without missing a beat, Billy hit his pedals, and off he went behind you. 

***

author's note: Lmk your thoughts i'm extremely excited for this but I decided to wait until ST4 dropped and now that's out i changed so many things i hope you like it. moreover i would appreciate a bunch if you supported me on ko-fi even one dollar makes the difference! thank you so much!

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