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Chapter two of my Pride & Prejudice inspired Steddie AU is finally out on ao3!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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I have an angel in my ear telling me not to draw this,

But on the other ear..........

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someone send requests

I need some silly stuff to write

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my beloved little freaks

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hii dear!!

could I please request just a platonic fluffy thing (if you want you can make part of it a but angsty but not necessary!) where reader breaks their collarbone or injures their shoulder or something, and Sirius washes their hair for them (like reader is sitting and leaning their neck over the bathtub) and it's just really sweet!!

thank you so much!! love your works 🫶

Your request may have saved me from a writer's block. Thank you so much <333

Love the idea. I've Never written &reader content before.

tags: sirius black & reader; quidditchplayer reader; gn reader, platonic hair washing, casually calling people 'love', lots of banter, light angst, but all around very fluffy and feel-good

You entered the common room and found the four boys at a table, quietly discussing something. You cleared your throat, making them look up from their weird map. They were probably planning some silly prank again. 

Best not to ask.

"Sirius. Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure thing, love." He scrambled out of his seat, climbing over Peter before he joined you a few feet away from any people.

When he reached you, you lowered your voice. "I... I kinda need some help..."

"With what?" he asked casually.

Merlin, this was embarrassing. "Washing my hair... I can't lift my arm more than a few centimeters without my shoulder hurting like hell," you admitted quietly.

Sirius sighed, letting his shoulders sack. "Why me? You could just as well ask any of the other guys."

"Because clearly you're the only one out of the four of you that has any idea what a conditioner is, and I don't have any other friends," you hissed quietly, and damned your injury for preventing you from crossing your arms. "Plus, as a beater, it's your job to protect your team from those stupid bludgers. And if you weren't so busy making heart-eyes at your fans, and instead focussed on the game, this wouldn't have happened."

Sirius gasped. "You're really blaming me for this?"

"No. I'm blaming you for not preventing it, so, bathroom - now!"

Knowing that he'd lost, Sirius excused himself to his friends before accompanying you to the bathroom in the boys' dorm.

You did your best to ignore the mess that was piling up in every corner of their rooms, which became more difficult when Sirius plucked a sports jersey from the doorhandle.

The bathroom didn't look much different either. The sink was full of hair and toothpaste, towels and dirty laundry were piling up on the floor, and you didn't want to see what the surrounding of the toilet looked like.

"Alright then, how do we do this?" Sirius asked, removing the rings from his fingers and rolling his sleeves up.

You looked around the room. There was only a shower that you didn't want to look too closely at, and then there was the sink...

"Maybe we should do this somewhere else", you argued, already turning to leave.

"What, why?" Sirius looked around. He realised a few seconds later, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink "Oh, yeah, okay, fair enough. Just give me a second." He plucked his wand from his pocket, performing a grand gesture. The hair from the drains collected itself into one ball and then vanished into the bin, while the toothpaste stains seemed to liquify and crawl down the outlet.

Obviously pleased, Sirius turned around and smiled at you. "See? all clean."

You still hesitated, but eventually nodded. "Alright then. We can do it over the sink, but I need a stool or something to sit on."

"You can have my suitcase," Sirius offered.

This was the last time you'd be setting foot into this hell hole.

The suitcase actually turned out to be surprisingly comfortable and about the right height for you to lean your head back into the sink.

"I can't believe this actually works," you murmured, then pulled your hair products out of your magically enlarged pockets, handing them to Sirius. "There you go."

Sirius eyed them for a moment. "This cheap shit? Nuh-uh. No way! I am not touching this stuff."

"Well, not everyone can afford spending a hundred Galleons on shampoo," you bit back.

"Absolutely not, I can't let you ruin your hair like that. I'm sorry, but I'm not." He left your side to vanish back into the bedroom and soon returned with two silver glass bottles. "We'll use this."

You raised your eyebrows, but read the labels. "Potter?"

"Yeah. James' dad makes them. Works like magic - probably because it is. Gives us all a nice discount, too. I'm sure he'd include you in that as well. I mean, you aren't a marauder, but you're our friend, and asking can't hurt," he shrugged.

You certainly weren't about to beg James' dad, who you never met, for a discount on his hair products, but you still knew to appreciate Sirius' gesture.

Carefully, you leaned your head back, making sure all your hair was in the sink before Sirius started washing it. He hummed quietly while massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

"Maybe you should become a hairdresser. You're doing really well back there," you murmured, eyes half closed.

Sirius' amused smile was audible when he spoke again. "You think so? And how much would you pay for this?"

"Well, we are doing this in a filthy bathroom, so probably not too much," you answered, chuckling softly, then hissed sharply.

Sirius paused to look at you. "You alright, love?"

"Yeah, just... Laughing hurts sometimes," you explained, breathing through the pain.

"Moony's got a whole shop of probably illegal drugs with him at all times, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you some pain killers if you need them," Sirius offered, turning the water back on to wash his hands.

Quickly, you shook your head. "No, no, I'm fine. I just need a second."

Sirius nodded, but never took his eyes off you. "Do you really blame me?" he asked after a moment, his voice unsure.

You turned your head to properly look at him. "Not really. It's just part of the game, isn't it? Comes with the job." You could see him breathe out in relief, then nod. "It still would be nice, if you paid more attention to the game than to the girls that are fawning over you."

"They're not-"

"Oh, yeah, they are," you grinned, nudging him with your foot. "They're calling you the Casanova of Gryffindor."

"That's... a really cool nickname actually, I can live with that," Sirius agreed, grinning as well. "You good to continue?" he asked then, looking at your hair that was still full of product.

"Yeah, I'm good." You leaned back again, closing your eyes once more.

"Maybe I can do it somewhere else. There are a good few unused rooms in Hogwarts. I could set up a workshop in one of those," Sirius considered while rinsing your hair out. "The next hairdresser is in Hogsmeade and it's not that good, so that might not be such a shit business model. I could even partner up with Monty. He gives me a discount on his products, and I advertise them to the students."

You only smiled along as Sirius continued to build out this idea. You honestly should have known that you couldn't mention anything to this guy without having him make a huge deal of it.

"Let me know if you need someone to manage your appointments or something like that," you answered at some point.

"How much would you want for that?"

"Thirty percent?"

"Ten."

"For ten I'll buy you a calendar. If you want someone to manage stuff for you, you gotta actually pay them."

"Twenty."

"Twenty five."

"Twenty, plus a holiday bonus."

"You could of course always ask your friends to manage your appointments," you said, shrugging your good shoulder. "You know, those guys who can't even keep their room organized."

"That's a low blow, y/l/n," Sirius smirked, then dried his hands and wrapped your hair in a towel when he was done. You sat back up to see him standing in front of you, holding out a hand. "Twenty five it is."

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Steve and Dustin really are brothers because Steve has been beefing with one cop since he was a kid and Dustin has a long standing feud with the postal service.

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hi, do u write lily/mary/marlene? i would love a smut bdsm au with them, lily as a dom btw, thank u :3

okay, I'm not gonna write this one out because of time and inspiration (especially since writing threesomes always takes three-times as long), but I will give you some nsfw headcanons for the girlies:

Mary and Marlene are married for a few years and their sex life is starting to get a bit dry, so they seek out a Dominatrix for them both to help get things going again.

They do a few sessions with Lily and they all really enjoy it.

She shows them a bit of everything - some bondage, some toys, she explains kinks and how to communicate their needs.

Mary is really into bondage and sensation play (everything with feathers and furr)

Marlene enjoys being put in her place and being teased / edged.

The problem is, that they both prefer being the passive part a lot more than doing the thing the other likes.

Lily explains that that has nothing to do with being selfish, it's just the way some people tick and that's what people like her are for.

So, they start having regular meetings, where Lily gives them what they both want.

Eventually, Lily had to admit that she is getting waaaayyy too emotionally involved in their relationship and is doing more for them than for other clients. Not even mentioning the things she wants to do to them.

Which leads to Lily starting to turn down appointments with them to maintain some boundaries.

Meanwhile, Mary and Marlene are arguing because they both realize that the other one is kinda into the hot dom.

During one appointment they start actually talking about jealousy being a turn-off for both of them, and Lily argues that there is nothing to be jealous about since they have a purely professional relationship.

Neither of them believes her

Lily admits her feelings and agrees to try and date them.

They soon learn that Lily is an amazing cook and likes to spoil the people she's with.

She also brings a lot of fun into the bedroom and spices up their sex-life a good bit.

Being with Lily gives their relationship a whole new angle and feels very refreshing.

Two weeks into dating, Mary and Marlene propose a steady relationship, to which Lily agrees happily.

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rip, Marlene McKinnon. You would have loved being one of those super hot girls on tt that play the guitar and make everyone question their sexuality.

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SIGN UPS FOR OUR HALLOWEEN MINI EVENT OPEN SEPT. 8TH!

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You run a mostly ordinary coffee shop, but it's frequented by members of the Fae court and other creatures of myth. Ordinarily, they'd try and take your soul or turn you, but they all just enjoy the drinks and atmosphere that there's an unofficial rule: You are off limits.

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"You can call me tomorrow"

What an idiot! Fuck me now

And now, a very silly one-shot based on this Tumblr post.

Steve is kicked out of his parents house and has all of five minutes to grab everything he cares about— which isn't much. He leaves with the clothes on his back, the cash from under his mattress, and a handful of photographs of him and his friends.

After paying first and last month's rent plus a security deposit, he realizes he can either furnish his new apartment, or eat, but not both. He buys a pillow and a blanket, trashpicks some odds and ends to stand in as furniture, and luxuriates in a dinner of frozen lasagna.

He spends the next couple weeks working as many hours as he can stand. It makes it a bit easier knowing how comfortless his apartment is— Family Video may drain his soul a little, but at least there's air conditioning, and chairs. But his new spartan quarters are almost like a badge of honor, a reminder that he doesn't need to live like his parents, surrounded by plush carpet and formal dining rooms and plaid wallpaper. And honestly Steve is feeling pretty proud, like he's actually doing well for himself for the first time in his life.

Until the break-in, anyway.

Exhausted after a double shift, Steve dragged himself past the threshold of his apartment on autopilot before he even registered that the door was already open.

There was a strange man standing in the middle of his living room.

Now, just because Steve had no furniture, that didn’t mean he had no weapons. He wasn’t a complete idiot. There weren’t any couch cushions to stash daggers underneath or whatever, but he'd stashed the nail bat behind the front door, a can of mace under the milk crate he sometimes sat on, and a housewarming gift from Nancy in the form of a revolver duct-taped to the underside of the wire spool he'd been using as a table.

He was mid-decision of which of his weapons to lunge for when the guy turned around to face him.

He was gorgeous— Steve cursed his survival instinct for that being the first and only thing he noticed— with dark hair pulled up to reveal the tattoos on every inch of his skin. He looked like he belonged in a punk band, or maybe prison.

To add insult to injury, he wasn’t concerned or even surprised to see Steve there, despite the empty muslin laundry sack thrown over his shoulder like Santa Claus's sketchy nephew, leaving no mystery of what he was there to do.

"This your place?" the guy asked dubiously, as if he had any right to ask questions. "Cuz I broke in to rob you, but shit, man, you got nothing." He laughed, casual as anything despite being caught red-handed. Steve could only stare, open-mouthed and stunned by the confession.

"Wait here," the man said, sauntering over and bracing an arm on Steve’s shoulder as if they were old friends.

Bizarrely, there were still no warning bells going off in Steve's head, even as he took in the stranger’s face: sharp features pulled into a hard line, with tattoos creeping up his neck, onto his jaw and cheekbones. 

He looked like the kind of guy that Steve's mother would cross the street to avoid, clutching her purse tightly and refusing to make eye contact. 

But Steve held his gaze without fear, caught up in the warmth of his beautiful brown eyes, made only more striking by the scar slicing through one eyebrow. There was something soft there that caught Steve off guard and left him wanting to know more, a gentle curiosity even as Steve's eyes darted down, drawn to the movement of the man skillfully flipping a butterfly knife shut with one hand and slipping it into his pocket. 

The man gave him an apologetic smile. Steve studied it, told himself he was analysing it for signs of danger, trying to suss out the likelihood he was about to be stabbed.

But the truth was, all he could focus on was the plush curve of the stranger’s lips, pulled taut into a perfect cupid’s bow.

The gentle curiosity was back in full force as the man's hand slid up from Steve's shoulder to the side of his neck, a far more intimate touch that had Steve frozen, unable to think of anything but his own pulse hammering away under the pads of the stranger's gentle fingers.

"I'll be right back," the man promised with a soft, reassuring squeeze to his neck. And with a wink and a reckless grin, he turned and slipped out the door.

Steve stood there stunned, only sitting down on his milk crate when the world went dark around the edges and he realized he was hyperventilating, and in real danger of passing out.

The man was not right back. By the time Steve fell asleep hours later, comforted only by a single pillow and blanket on the floor of his lonely apartment, he still wasn't sure if his a reaction was to the danger, or to the stab of desire he felt the moment the man touched him.

Steve was awoken the next morning by a knock on the door. He crept over to look through the peephole with his hand hovering over his nailbat in the corner, but let his hand fall to his side when he saw that the man from yesterday, his burglar, was back— and he'd brought friends. Even while mentally berating himself for his own stupid naivety, Steve opened the door. 

Not a second later, somebody pushed past him to enter the apartment. Or tried to, anyway. Two new strangers stood in the doorway, holding a heavy wooden dining room table, bickering and ignoring him completely as they attempted to angle it this way and that to get it through the doorway without snagging the legs.

"Manners, gentlemen, where are your manners?" the man from yesterday called loudly from behind them, obviously irritated. "Sorry to intrude, pretty boy. We come bearing gifts,” he said with a mischievous smile that sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. “This here is Jeff and Gareth," the man announced, pointing to them each in turn: Jeff was dressed all in black, with thick locs covered by a slouchy black beanie, with a heavy padlock and matching key around his neck, and Gareth, in red plaid pants, a Mohawk and a noise piercing. "And this is Freak," the man continued, gesturing at the heavy-set one with curly hair, dressed in more leather than seasonally appropriate, carrying a television— with a built-in VCR, no less.

Without warning, the burglar dove to kneel at Steve’s feet, puffing his chest out boastfully as he reached to take his hand. Maintaining eye contact all the while, the man placed a loud, deliberate kiss to the back of it.

He was, without a doubt, the strangest person Steve had ever met.

And all Steve could think about was tackling him to the ground and tasting every one of his piercings. 

He laughed at the thought, loudly and helplessly, which only seemed to encourage the man to press more kisses up and down Steve’s wrist. What a bizarre moment, he thought, to become fully cognizant of his own same-sex attraction.

"As for me," the man said with a dorky little bow, releasing Steve’s hand to place one on his own heart while throwing the other out in a theatrical flourish, “you can call me tomorrow.”

His friends all groaned, dragging dining chairs into Steve’s tragically empty living room and stacking them haphazardly next to the table.

“Sorry,” the man said, shaking his head as if just realizing he’d misspoken. “I meant to say, you can call me Eddie. But, you know, now that you mention it…” The man— Eddie, apparently— reached into his back pocket, pulled out a tattered piece of corrugated cardboard, and handed it to Steve. It was clearly a torn piece of a pizza box, roughly the size of an index card. There were unmistakable smears of dried sauce, and the edges looked as though they’d been aggressively torn by hand. Steve glanced up, brows raised in question.

Eddie just gave him a hopeful little nod.

Steve flipped it over and sure enough, there was a phone number there, scrawled in barely-legible Sharpie. He looked up again to find Eddie grinning at him shamelessly.

“Yeah, let us know how that works out for you,” Jeff sighed, pulling out a cigarette, sticking it behind his ear, and tossing the pack at the back of Eddie’s head. “If you’re not back at the van in five minutes, we’re leaving without you,” he called over his shoulder as the three of them filed out of Steve’s apartment.

Eddie scoffed, bending over to pick up the pack, taking one for himself and lighting it, right there in the middle of Steve’s living room.

“Oh, one more thing,” he said, all faux innocence. “I think I got you a bed too, but that might take a couple days.”

Eddie took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling heavily in deep satisfaction. Then, eyes half-lidded, he gave Steve a look so filthy, so openly wanting, leaving no room for doubt of what was on offer.

“When can I come… give it to you?”

Steve felt like the breath had been punched out of him. He choked, whether on the smoke or the implication, coughing as he scrambled to figure out what the hell to say to that.

Because despite all rational thought… the attention wasn’t unwelcome.

Was it a bad idea to flirt back within hours of his first inkling of being interested in men? Probably. 

Was it an even worse one to flirt with the guy who broke into his apartment and then did… whatever this was? Absolutely. 

But this guy seemed to know a thing or two about bad ideas, and Steve was feeling inclined to trust the expert.

“Do these lines actually work for you?” Steve asked teasingly, letting his voice fall into the lower register he had once reserved for sweet-talking cheerleaders under the bleachers.

“I don’t know, big boy,” Eddie shot back, brown eyes gleaming as he stepped in closer until their toes were almost touching. “You tell me. Is it working?”

Between the proximity and the secondhand smoke, his head was spinning once again. "Steve," he found himself saying despite his better judgment as he allowed his eyes to sweep over Eddie’s face, taking in every detail. Feeling emboldened by the shameless, hungry look Eddie was giving him, he reached out to pluck the cigarette from Eddie’s lips, took a long drag and exhaled through his nose before carefully placing it back. 

All the while, Eddie watched him, dark eyes tracking his every move like a shark drawn to blood in the water.

"My name,” he said, voice low and gravelly, “is Steve. So when I call you tomorrow, I won't have to introduce myself as the guy you reverse-burgled."

"Revurgled," all three of his friends supplied helpfully in unison from just beyond the door, out of sight.

Steve jumped back, startled, and just like that the moment was over.

Eddie whirled around and stormed out of the apartment, berating his friends for their poor timing, not even bothering to say goodbye or close the door on his way out.

Steve stepped out after him, watching as the four of them disappeared down the hall, still bickering the whole way. He reached into his pocket, reassuring himself that the phone number was still there. 

He wondered how soon was too soon to call. Because he was sure of it now: he just couldn’t wait to get into Eddie’s bed.

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okay, I'll definetly write that at some point, but until then I need y'all to see my vision

Steddie who start getting into phone sex when Eddie is on tour or sth.

And Eddie has never done that before, so Steve explains to him that it's basicaly like roleplay and Eddie ends up turning the whole thing into a very dirty DnD session.

And Steve totally gets off on how nerdy his boyfriend is.

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[eden-writes-stuff]

About Car sex during a divorce

@steddiebingo ~ on ao3

prompts: Hate sex; break-up; modern tags: angst, divorce, eventual smut, Child-of-divorce-Dustin word count: 1173

The Divorce had been ugly. Uglier even than the worst parts of their marriage.

But the worst part was Dustin.

Dustin who had to watch his parents split up; who tried time and time again to get them to change their mind. It never worked.

They had talked about it - staying together; for Dustin. But it didn't work out. 

They were arguing every night, always too loud, too aggressiv;, both filled with fear of letting go.

And so, they ended it. 

The only thing worse than the divorce itself was the battle over custody. 

Eddie was horrified by the idea of losing Dustin. 

He was his kid. His best friend - although that sounded kind of sad, so he rarely admitted it out loud.

But Steve had always been the better Dad out of the two of them. Steve knew how to set boundaries, and how to trick Dustin into doing his chores. All Eddie knew how to do was play D&D with Dustin and his friends, which admittedly was really cool, but certainly not enough to get custody. Steve had money. He had the money to put Dustin through college, and buy him a car, and give him a heads up for a nice place to live. Eddie could do none of these things. 

Letting Steve get custody was the reasonable thing to do. Dustin would have it good with him. He would have his friends in the area. Eddie would have to move away. He couldn't stand to run across Steve in the grocery store every other day. But he also couldn't move too far so Dustin could come and visit him. 

Today, they were both sitting on opposite sides of a table, a lawyer on their side, the judge hovering over them on the end of the table, like a higher power. Eddie wasn't even listening to what they were saying for the most part. It wasn't like he could do anything about it anyways. 

"Steve should get custody." 

All eyes turned toward him in surprise. No one had heard him say a word since they got here. 

Eddie swallowed hard. "It's the only right thing for Dustin. Steve can put him through school and all that, and Steve knows how to cook - unlike me - , and I"

"Mr. Harrington-" Eddie shook his head, silencing the attorney at his side. He had no right to interrupt him.

"I know that it's the only right thing to do for Dustin, but... I want to see my son. And I know he wants to see me. Because we're best friends, we rely on each other, we're there for each other. And it wouldn't be right to cut him off from his best friend." 

"Mr. Harrington, sit down!" the judge commanded with a stern voice. 

Eddie hadn't even realized he'd stood up. Slowly he sank back into his chair, lowering his head. "I'm Sorry," he murmured quietly before remembering the rules. "your honor." 

And for the rest of the discussion he was silent again. 

He couldn't have said how long they went on but eventually the judge dismissed them, saying they would hear the decision in the morning. 

Eddie stood in the hallway, staring against the dark walls of the abandoned hallway, every sound echoing through the emptiness. At least the environment matched his mood.

His lawyer had left him standing there a while ago. 

Eventually, a cleaning person shooed him outside, telling him that it was closing time and he was getting in the way.

His feet carried him into the garage where he had parked his car. Leaning against it stood Steve, phone in hand. 

"I was starting to worry that you had walked home and wouldn't show up here."

Eddie didn't answer. He simply walked past him to the door, but Steve was faster, slamming it shut, putting himself between Eddie and the car. "We have to talk." 

"We talked for two hours in there."

"We didn't say shit!" 

"Well, pleanty was said, now get out of my fucking way." Eddie pressed one hand against Steve's chest in hope to push him away. No chance. Steve had gained muscle strength since the last time they had seen each other. A wave of shame flooded over Eddie. How could Steve be working out, while Eddie was sitting in his hotel room all day, eating his weight in junk food. 

"Not until we talked like adults." 

"Fuck you and your perfect fucking life, you big whore!" Eddie shouted right into his face. "Was that adult enough for you? Or do you want me to get more explicit?" At least the emptiness was gone. As long as he was mad at Steve, he could feel something. And feeling something sounded pretty good right about now.

This time Steve was the one that wouldn't answer. 

"What, you wanted to talk and now you can't even get a word out?" he spat, pushing Steve against the car. Anger was good. He liked anger. 

And then Steve kissed him. 

Eddie couldn't remember the last time they had kissed like this. Passionate, needy. He returned the gesture out of pure habit, pressing Steve closer against the car. 

Steve grabbed a fist full of his hair, pulling him closer, leaving no space between them. Steve always made it clear what he wanted. That was something Eddie had always admired about him. 

Breath heavy, Eddie pulled away, closing his eyes for a moment before looking around the garage. 

"They closed half an hour ago, and there isn't a single other car here," Steve argued when he followed his eyes. 

Eddie bit his lip. It was good enough for him. He wouldn’t even have cared if there were a hundred people in here - he just didn’t want to seem desperate.

After, what he hoped was enough time, he grabbed Steve by the hips and turned him, so that he was facing the car. They both pulled their pants down  as much as necessary. Eddie spit on his fingers, shoving two of them up Steve's ass. He didn't want to hurt him. Even after all this, he didn't want any harm to come to that pretty bastard. 

Neither of them spoke until Steve started quietly begging. He was always fast to beg. Eddie used to love it. He used to adore those little moans, and the way Steve arched his back for him. Now it was just white noise. Just a way to relieve stress.

Eddie fucked him against the car until Steve came, then continued pounding him on the backseat until he could finish as well. They never made eye contact, never addressed each other.

He would have liked to think that it hadn't affected him. That he didn't feel different afterwards. But Eddie had always tried his best not to lie to himself. He was less tense. The anger had subsided and made place for something different; something Eddie couldn't name. 

All he knew was that Corroded Coffin would soon have a new song about car sex during a divorce.

[eden-writes-stuff]

Fic where Eddie hears about Jonathan taking pictures through Steve’s bedroom window and then proceeds to spend the next couple weeks wandering around the woods trying to find where he was able to do that.

Rather awkwardly, he runs into Steve in the woods more than once. He eventually asks what Eddie is doing and Eddie panics. He says he’s birdwatching.

“Oh,” Steve says and then immediately starts telling him that he’s going about this all wrong. “Are you new to birdwatching?”

“Um…kinda?”

“I can tell,” Steve says and then launches into a whole spiel about how this is the worst time of day to birdwatching. “It’s too hot for most birds and the sun fucks up your pic - you don’t even have binoculars, man.”

Turns out Steve Harrington - coolest guy in school - is an avid birdwatcher?

Now Eddie is getting dragged out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning to stand in the woods with Steve Harrington. All because he wanted to see the guy naked.

[eden-writes-stuff]

“You want me?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“How — But — What did I do?”

“I don’t know. I just think we’d be a good us.”

“Oh, we’d be an amazing us.”