#I can't get over how pretty that is dude you're incredible

[somegrumpynerd]

it is indeed entrelac! the pattern is The Landscape Shawl by Martin Up North.

idk if you've ever tried it, but even though it's technically tunisian crochet i actually find it easier tc normally is for me. my mom (who is iffy on regular crochet and definitely not into tc at all) also made (part of) one. you're only ever working with ten stitches at a time, so it's not as hard to handle as tc can be.

anyhow this is the whole thing:

(kind of. it's enormous and the full corners wouldnt fit in frame lol)

(also don't you love going through the bin of Finished Objects We Forgot About? it's like a private art show lol)

BRO!!!!! THAT'S GORGEOUS WHAT THE HELL

I thought it was just like black and white the whole way but that's amazing!! :O

I wanna say I've tried tunisian crochet before because I definitely recognise that kinda pattern, but it's been so long I couldn't tell you a thing about it lol When I finish my thing I've started for somebody else I'll maybe try and pick it up again cause that looks really cool

(Oh yeah, I don't go through mine much cause it's underneath 2 big boxes of yarn but every so often I love the experience of "oh shit I did used to try and make quilts huh" lol)

[stevebabey]

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers

summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple.

How hard could it be?

[ 12k + best friends to lovers + fake dating + fem!reader]

STEP ONE: THE PROPOSAL

"Be my girlfriend."

The glass held between your fingers slips and makes a loud bang as it hits the sink. The water from the tap pours over it, unaware of the incredibly unusual change in the universe that just occurred.

You tilt your head up, ignoring the lost glass, and raise your eyebrows high. "Come again?"

Steve huffs a little, as though you're the one being rather dramatic, and leans further forward across the island. His hands are planted firmly, his hazel eyes wide as he all but pouts at you. You're still grappling with where the hell that came from.

"Be my girlfriend. Please." He says. "For just one dinner, I promise. I swear I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't actually desperate."

You blink, clearly having missed a beat somewhere.

Frowning, you finally shut off the tap and rescue your abandoned glass from the bottom of the sink. You pick up and give it a quick once over for any chips. Scot-free, luckily.

"Okay, back up." You say, giving a small shake to clear your head. You make a face. "First of all, Harrington, ouch."

Steve sags a bit. "C'mon, you know that's not what I mean."

Not even a hint of a smile at your dig — which tells you he's probably pretty serious then.

"Secondly, what dinner is this? What could be so important that you have to show up with a faux-girlfriend on your arm?"

Steve properly slumps this time, a loud groan accompanying the languished movement. His forehead presses against the counter-top and you bite your tongue to avoid making an unhelpful, teasing comment about it. Instead, you refill the glass in your hand and wait patiently.

"I…" Steve begins, his voice muffled against the counter-top.

"MybrotherisintownwithhisfiancéeandI—"

"Steveeee," You interrupt as you give in to the urge, leaning over and poking him in the head. "If you want my help, please stop mumbling into the counter and tell me the problem."

He doesn't move for a moment, still face down, but you can see the rise and fall of his back as he sighs deeply. He shifts, twisting so his face is no longer hidden. It's noticeably pinker than it was a minute ago.

"My brother is in town next week." He explains. "With his fiancée. And my parents really love to kick up a fuss whenever he gets brought up, whether it's, yanno, like, about jobs and shit or whatever."

Steve waves a careless hand out. He rises from his slumped position, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand.

"And, like, this time it was about relationships. It was all," Steve's voice pitches up, whiny and nasally. "When are you going to get a serious relationship like Brandon, Steve? When are you going to settle down, Steve? When are you going to stop being a disappointment, Steve?"

He huffs another sigh, this one tinged with more defeat. You feel your face twitch in sympathy.

"So, just to get them shut up I…" Steve averts his gaze to study the counter-top suddenly. He draws an idle circle with his free hand. "I said that I was actually dating someone."

You take in his words. "But you're not."

"Thank you, genius. I had no idea." Steve straightens up with a scoff, throwing his hands out. Dragging them down his face, another groan warbles out of him.

"But now they're expecting me to show up to this dinner with someone — someone I'm dating — and I cannot admit I lied. So, please, be my girlfriend for one night."

You snort. His distress, a disaster of his own making, is just a tad bit funny. Just a little. A smidge. "Dude, chill. Just say your girlfriend is sick and she can't come."

Steve laughs mirthlessly. "That's like the adult equivalent of saying oh you don't know her, she goes to another school. No, I can't do that! C'mon, please."

His hands clasp together, raised in a plea.

"Think of it as one hugely, massive favour."

You take a moment to think it over.

"When is it?"

"This weekend, Saturday, 5 o'clock."

"Dress code?"

"Formal. Duh."

"How many people?"

"Uh, my mom, my dad, my brother, his fiancée. Maybe my uncle? Four or five."

Saturday was only a couple days away. He'd left it awfully late to ask—and you're not exactly sure who else would step up for the job if you said no. For the first time since he threw out the insane suggestion, you properly consider it — and feel your face screw up instinctively.

You? Pretending to be Steve's girlfriend?

Sure, to some girls that probably sounded like a dream come true, but it hadn't ever been like that between you and Steve.

You weren't even sure if you could picture it, being tucked under his arm, receiving delicate kisses on the head instead of noogies. Your nose wrinkles again at the oddity.

It wasn't like people didn't like to speculate — men and women can't just be friends, after all — but getting on Steve Harrington's kiss list had never really been a priority to you. Would you even be able to pull it off?

Your mind casts out to the girls that Steve tends to date, nit-picking as you try to think of what separated you from them. While Steve would certainly vehemently deny it, you're pretty sure you can pick a pattern out from the array of girls. A type that you certainly wouldn't see yourself fitting into.

Steve just… doesn't go for girls like you.

Steve, watching you closely, sees the hesitation sink in. He leans forward again, bargaining face on.

"You can veto every movie we watch for the next month."

You squint at him. Raise your chin an inch, forcing yourself not to smile too obviously. It's not often you get to see Steve looking ready to actually grovel for something.

He narrows his eyes, catching onto your deviousness. "Fine. I'll pay for your shakes for the next month, too."

You take another moment to think it over, exaggerating the hmmm sound you make. You tap your finger against your chin, indicating you're not quite convinced yet.

Steve leans further forward, his expression inching toward a bitchy disbelief. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

He looks as though he might start another slew of scoffing, his tongue pressed into his cheek, before he seems to re-evaluate what's at stake here.

He says, "I will drive you up to Indianapolis on—" He holds up one finger. "—one occasion when you ask."

Grinning, you stick out your hand for him to shake.

"You've got a deal, mister."

Steve sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief as he drops his hand to rest in yours. You give it a firm shake and just when you can see the thank-you forming on his lips, you tug his hand forward. You grin wider, almost taunting.

"I would've done it just for the shakes, just so you know."

Steve does scoff this time, ripping his hand back from yours. "You're an awful friend."

You bite down your smile, already dreaming of the free shake you'll be sipping all the way out to Indianapolis. You take a sip of your water and raise your brows at Steve over the lip of your cup.

"Hey. Don't you mean awful girlfriend." You wiggle your brows, not failing to see the hint of pink that colours Steve's cheeks.

Despite the colour in his face, Steve manages to deliver a long, unimpressed stare at you.

His eyes flick down your figure, clearly turning your words over in his head, then back up. As though he's actually realising what he's asked you to do.

He huffs another sigh, running his hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. This is an awful idea."

"Hey, it's your idea, not mine."

—

A stray blouse flies from the closet, landing in an unceremonious lump at the foot of your bed.

You toe at it gently, narrowed gaze travelling from the murky colour up toward the closet, to the perpetrator currently tearing your wardrobe apart. He doesn't even pause, hands still digging, almost resembling a dog burying a bone.

Sighing, you drop your head back, hair splaying against your pillow. The water-stain on your bedroom ceiling greets your sigh with silence.

You had thought that, while sure, yeah, the Harrington's are a fancy bunch, it ultimately wouldn't be that much of a hassle to step in as Steve's date.

You'd have to dig through your closet for the nicest thing you owned (and seldom wore) and you and Steve would concoct a ludicrous story that could be the next John Hughes film.

It would take an hour, tops.

A severe underestimation. Maybe the promise of one hugely, massive favour should've tipped you off.

"Are you being serious right now?" You moan from your place on the bed. You shift your head forward again, eyeing your best friend across the room.

Steve, still buried in your closet, makes a loud harumph in answer. His voice comes out muffled against the clothes, too swamped amongst the fabric. "—Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard if you actually had anything wearable in here—"

You make a noise of indignation, tipping your head further forward. Your necklace shifts, the pendant sliding down the chain and hitting the comforter beneath you.

"And just what are you trying to say?"

Steve pauses for a moment, his hands halted on a pair of coat-hangers. He leans out from the clothing and lets his head loll back, his hazel eyes forming a flat stare.

"Har har." Steve says sarcastically. He turns back to the closet, the coat-hanger in his hand scraping as he pushes it along, assessing each piece with quick, attuned eyes. "I'm just saying you have a lack of clothing that my mother deems acceptable."

He turns back for a second. "Which is a good thing, by the way."

You hum in agreement, letting your head flop back onto your pillow. You've seen the pantsuits Cynthia Harrington wears.

Steve continues his barrage through your wardrobe, making a noise of disapproval every couple of seconds.

You also can't say you had expected to get started so soon; as in immediately post fake-girlfriend proposal. It occurs to you that perhaps you've said yes to something bigger than you expected.

"You're taking this really seriously." You comment.

"Yeah, well," Steve reaches in and tosses another blouse, this one pale-blue, on the bed by your feet. "I know you've met my parents before but they're, like, different when Brandon comes around."

"Different?"

"Like worse. Way, way worse." He draws a line with a flat hand. "Brandon makes them just so—"

His hand curls up, forming a fist. He sighs, dropping it to rest on his hip. For a long moment, he stares into your wardrobe.

You push up on one elbow, brows knitting together. "Steve?"

Steve jolts lightly at your voice, torn out of his thoughts. He reaches out and plucks another blouse from your wardrobe, a maroon pleated one that you'd sworn you had thrown away. It's horrendous and definitely picked out by your mother. He turns and chucks it on the bed, crumpling atop the others and looks up at you, hands perched on his hips.

"Just, like, the smoother this dinner goes, the better, okay?"

You sit up completely, catching the seriousness leaking into Steve's voice. Damn. He actually sounds pretty worked up about the whole thing.

You smile, aiming for comfort. Even if you hadn't quite grasped what you had said yes to, Steve was still your best friend.

His parents were… difficult on the best of days. It was clear he was going for the least eventful, head-down approach as he could for this.

You could do that.

"Okay." You nod, more serious this time, eyeing the blouses on the end of the bed. You miss the relief that shutters across Steve's face. "We got three days til Saturday. What do you need me to do?"

"You can start," Steve says, spinning back to face your chest of drawers this time. His eyes flash over, with a hint of mirth. "By telling me if you even own a skirt that goes below your knees, you scandalous woman."

You laugh and get to your feet, wandering towards your drawers to pull open the bottom most one. Fishing around, you try to recall if you have anything church-worthy, tongue poking out your lips.

A hideous woollen skirt gifted to you for Christmas a couple years ago springs to mind. You shiver.

"Below the knee, huh?" You say. "You better start telling me about the role I'll be playing if I can't even turn up as myself."

You're only half joking. Your fingers curl around the scratchy fabric and you wrinkle your nose in recognition. Tugging it forward, it escapes the confines of your drawers and splays out with a sudden poof. You get the joy of remembering just how ugly it really is.

Twisting, you hold it up to Steve who has taken your place on your bed, laid back.

"Think this'll do?"

Steve's head perks up and he locks onto the skirt in your grasp. "Ugh, it's awful. Perfect."

You drop the skirt, abandoning it to take your place next to Steve on the bed. The springs creak slightly as your weight joins Steve's, the bed dipping and forcing you closer together. A smile sneaks onto his face.

"Okay, but for real," You jab a finger into the softness of Steve's side and he makes a little noise of complaint. "You've gotta tell me what I'm expecting for this, dude. It would be, like, catastrophically mean of you to send me in there blind."

Steve sighs — something he's really doing that a lot recently — and rolls toward you, propping his head up with one arm. The edges of his polo stretch as his bicep bulges. He frowns down at your comforter as he thinks.

"I don't know if I actually can prepare you for it." He admits, raising his gaze to look at you through his lashes. "Like, I think we're gonna have to just come up with a story and fend off the questions as best we can."

Another thought occurs to you. You frown. "Wait, don't your parents, like, know about me already?"

Steve's gaze darts away, this time staring at your comforter with a greater intensity. He gives a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, well, that's why it'll work. They basically already ask me when we'll be getting together."

Your brows jump. A teasing grin taunts your mouth but you forsake it for a more helpful approach.

"Alright, then," You say. "Then let's do better than fending off the wolves. If I'm gonna be your fake girlfriend, I'm not gonna half-ass it. Let's knock the socks off your parents."

Steve's eyes jump up, meeting your stare and it takes another moment before he realises you're being genuine. You grin, poking him in the side again.

"And Brandon."

"Yeah?" Steve smiles. He sounds a tad awed at your dedication, his eyes roaming over your face gently. After a moment, he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "Okay. Uh, we have to come up with a backstory first."

"And it has to be one that your parents will believe too."

Steve nods, then pauses, a frown knitting together his eyebrows. "Wait, when did we get together? We can't have just started dating that's— like, almost as bad as showing up without a girlfriend."

You blink, perturbed. "What?"

"Oh, hey mom and dad." Steve says, his tone sardonic and flat. "Oh yeah, this is my girlfriend who I somehow started dating just one week ago, coincidentally just in time for this family dinner."

You cringe a little. He does have a point.

"Fine." You say. A little worry burrows into your brain — the longer you make your 'relationship', the more details you have to construct, to remember, and recall correctly.

You worry your bottom lip. "How long is long enough though? If it's too long, we have to remember more things."

Steve's mouth twists in thought. He gives a hmm.

"I think the last time you saw my parents was… sometime around New Year's Eve, right? They had that party, d'ya remember?"

You wrack your brain and find a memory with glittering fireworks and greasy hot-dogs. Steve had too much champagne and emptied his stomach into a bush. Faintly, the memory of passing by Mr and Mrs. Harrington fits in there— only for a moment.

"Yeah," You say.

Combing over the last years' events, you try to think if there's anything else you would've seen them at.

Graduation? You try to smooth out the wrinkles of that memory too; sunny day, sweltering gown. You hadn't remembered seeing Steve's parents there. "'Cos they didn't come to graduation, did they?"

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. He rolls back to lie flat on your bed, folding his hands to rest on his chest. "What about after one of my basketball games? The final one of the season." He proposes, eyes tracking back to you.

You laugh without meaning to, spurred on by Steve's surprise.

"Really? At your basketball game? That's when the sparks went flying and we got together?"

Steve's mouth drops open an inch in offense. He throws his hands up. "What? That's, like, totally romantic." He defends. "Besides, it's a good reason for our friendship to have changed."

"You lost that game."

"I still scored!"

"Fine." You appease, laughing lightly. "We got together after you lost the last basketball game of the season."

Steve wrinkles his nose again. "Well, don't put it like that."

You laugh again, soft and light.

"Who asked who?"

"I asked you." Steve says.

You nod, carefully trying to commit the detail to memory. Your head spins as you try to think up the variety of different questions you might get asked at the dinner.

What sort of questions might his parents ask? Or his brother? They'll probably want to know the basics — how you got together, how it's going. You might get a shake-down to see if you're worthy of dating a Harrington.

Then, of course, there is the matter of ensuring you're a convincing couple. In love enough to be brought along to an exclusive family event.

That means… getting touchy. The thought sends a jolt through your stomach— will you have to kiss?

You bury the thought. You'll cross that bridge and have it's subsequently unavoidable, awkward conversation when you get to it.

You're not sure who'll you will have more trouble convincing; Brandon or Steve's parents. But from what you know of Steve's family, you'd bet none of them know him that well.

For all you know, this could well be a walk in the park. Maybe the easiest free trip to Indianapolis ever earned.

"What's Brandon like?" You ask, trying to get a better sense of who you'll be fooling. "Do you think he'll ask many questions?"

"He's…" Steve's eyes shift from you to the ceiling, his mouth forming a flat line. "An asshole, like my dad. He's got this amazing talent for getting under my skin. Which usually includes undermining just about anything I have going for me in my life. Or—" He gestures to you with a sigh. "—what I actually don't have going."

He rolls his head in your direction, his mouth twisted into a bitchy frown.

"He used to always rat on me to our parents when I was kid. He once got me in trouble for going to see Tommy just because he didn't want to walk me over. Said I disobeyed authority." Steve makes quotations with his fingers.

Your brows raise in disbelief. "Isn't he, like, fifteen years older than you?"

Steve huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yep. Told you, asshole. So, yes, he'll probably ask questions but I don't think he'll expect I'd do something as desperately pathetic as faking a girlfriend so hopefully we'll fly under his radar."

Reaching out, you whack Steve on the arm, relishing in his annoyed ow!

Eyes narrowed, you wait til he's looking at you with his what gives? face before you say, "What you're doing is not pathetic, nor is it desperate. It is an act of survival against your shitty family, okay?"

Steve stares at you for a moment before his shoulders seem to melt, the tension leaking from them. He flops his head back.

"Okay." He murmurs in agreement.

"Alright," You say. "Now, let's get this story straight. We got together at the final game of the season, which would mean we've been together for nearly…"

STEP TWO: THE ACT

Your legs itch and you fight the urge to readjust your tights for the umpteenth time.

Steve, in the driver's seat beside you, drums his hands against the steering wheel too rapidly to be casual. He keeps darting one hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumbnail.

You'd reach out and smack him to get him to stop but you're beginning to feel the lurch of nerves yourself. The drive from your house to Steve's has never seemed so, so entirely too short.

"Okay, uh," Steve's throat clicks, clammed up from his silence for too long.

He hadn't spoken much when he had picked you up, other than to laugh at your joke at the mismatch of yourself and your prim outfit.

You'd ended up finding a double-breasted blazer in your mom's closet and you look almost ready to run as the local mayor. You're even wearing tights.

"We got together the 20th—"

"—of June, last year." You finish for him.

Steve nods, his face still facing forward. His eyes look a tad unfocused, even as he reaches out to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. "Right. So we've been together for, uh, about ten months."

You nod encouragingly, checking the details in your head. "You asked me out. Our first date was—"

"—at The Hawk." Steve cuts in, parroting off your memorised answers. "We saw Labyrinth and, uh, then I drove you home."

That part isn't technically untrue. You and Steve had gone to see Labyrinth together back in June of last year, but it certainly hadn't been a date. You find the details lend themselves quite easily regardless.

"That's when we had our first kiss." You remind him, even if it makes your face heat minisculy. "What did you get me for Christmas?" You quiz.

"Uh," Steve's hand rabbits against the steering wheel, nerves evident. He finally breaks his stare from the road to glance at you, his brows furrowed together, eyes worried. "Fuck, I can't remember."

"It's fine," You stress, waving a hand. "You got me tickets to Billy Joel and we drove out to Indianapolis for the concert in April."

Steve nods a bit too manically, his perfectly coiffed hair coming a bit loose. The houses flashing by the window gradually get bigger, fancier. He bites his thumbnail again and this time you do reach out and tug his wrist away.

"Thanks." He murmurs.

He turns the wheel, the engine droning as the car takes the corner to enter his street. Your nerves hike a mile higher and you tug at your tights fruitlessly again. The street is lined with nice cars — not unexpected for Steve's neighbourhood.

What is unexpected is the sheer volume. You and Steve peer out the car windows, eyes wide, as you take in the full street. When you swallow, your throat feels particularly dry.

You turn to Steve. "I thought they said it was a family dinner?"

Steve, his eyes darting from car to car, either trying to find a park amongst the packed sidewalk or maybe just panicking like you are, takes a moment to meet your eyes. He looks a lovely shade of chalky white.

"They definitely did."

There's a free space down the end of Steve's street, the driveway already full with two cars, neither you can recognise.

Steve's foot hits against the brake too abruptly and the car jerks to a stop, rocking forward. You grip the edges of your seat tightly as Steve kills the engine. For a moment, neither of you make a sound.

"What if there's more than just family in there?" Steve croaks, turning slowly to face you.

The paleness in his face has pitched toward something greener. He swallows heavily, twisting back to stare out the windshield and his hands on the wheel tighten. "Oh my god, this is— this isn't gonna to work."

"Steve."

"Valentines, we did Lover's Lake," Steve mutters to himself, eyes still out the window. "Fuck, this is so stupid."

"Steve," You try again. His own panic is worsening your own and if he continues to spiral, you fear you might never make it out of the car and you did not wear itchy tights for that to happen.

"You got me the Michael Jackson record for my birthday," He rattles off again, almost absentmindedly, as though his mind can't pick between panicking about trying to remember all the details or the apparent extra guests.

"This is— oh my god, we're never gonna convince them."

"Steve." You say firmly. His head snaps around, broken from his mutterings. He blinks at you.

You take a deep, exaggerated breath in. Steve follows instinctively, his shoulders rising as he inhales.

"We will convince them." You insist earnestly.

Offering out your upturned hand, you wait for Steve to shift to place his bigger hand in yours. When he does, your fingers curl around it, cradling it.

You can feel the rabbit of his pulse at your fingertips and you meet his eye as you say, "We know each other—really well. We're best friends. We've practised, we look the part, okay? Now, all we have to do is… be a couple for an evening. It's going to be fine."

Steve swallows and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then his breath bursts out in a release of tension, his hand finally squeezing yours back. "God, what would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, probably." You tease, thankful when unease hanging on his frame is replaced by something more familiar.

Steve makes an appalled noise, tightening his grip on your hand so you can't pull it back. His other hand moves, his fingers dancing across the ticklish skin on the inside of your arm til you shriek out in laughter, yanking your hand back.

Your laughter seems to have dimmed the nervousness a bit. You glance over your shoulder, down the street, and track an older couple dressed primly entering the Harrington home. As you turn back to Steve, you swallow to gather your nerves.

"Ready?"

Steve doesn't look like he is, his shifting, unsure eyes and stressing hands. He pushes his palms against his slacks and takes a sharp inhale, before meeting your eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

You count the steps up to the doorway without even meaning to, arriving at the Harrington doorstep in approximately 47 steps. The maroon double doors before you seem taller than usual. Steve raises his hand to knock and then halts, his attention shifting to his upraised hand.

He quickly tucks it back against his side, except this time with his elbow held out for you.

A faint pang of surprise in your chest, coloured with something softer, nicer. You’ve seen somewhat what Steve’s like on his dates and you’ve certainly heard plenty of the aftermath. But you’ve never been on one, of course.

As you loop your arm to nook in his, you find yourself unexpectedly eager to find out exactly what it’s like to be Steve Harrington’s date.

Steve knocks on the door, then twists the knob and lets himself in.

Despite seeing the earlier guests, there’s little to prepare you for the room full of people that stand on the other side of the door. Moving on instinct, clinging to Steve’s arm, you step through the threshold and into the lion's den.

Your nerves fry. Never mind lion's den; you feel more like a fly caught in a web. Frog boiling in a pot? No, that doesn't work because you know exactly what you were signed up to when you said yes to Steve.

Well, not precisely. You survey the crowd, counting at least three times as many people as you were expecting with nervous eyes.

Your little white lie with Steve just graduated to having an entire audience. No pressure, right?

“Steven.”

The croon of Cynthia Harrington greets the pair of you.

You feel Steve stiffen up beside you, his shoulders rolling back, his entire body straightening up. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.

“Mom,” Steve says. His voice is a bit dry and he swallows again. “You didn’t say there were going to be this many people here.”

He’s polite enough to not word it as an accusation. His niceties don’t work, bouncing off the painstakingly sculpted smile of a businesswoman.

“Please, it’s a networking event, I’m not sure what you expected.” She adjusts her diamond earring, swaying and heavy, as she speaks dismissively. “I told you this, Steven.”

You never hear anyone call Steve Steven other than his parents.

“No, Mom, you didn’t.”

There’s a barely restrained bite in his words.

That catches Cynthia’s attention. She stops her roaming gaze to focus on her son, not even glancing at you. After a moment, she gives an exasperated huff.

“Well, why else would we be back, Steven? Your father is trying to close business with Mr. Collings.”

The sting isn’t even for you — in fact, you don’t even think she realises she’s dealt it — but you feel it all the same. Steve’s arm looped with yours tightens, a minuscule motion.

Though you know he thinks they’re all assholes, it doesn’t stop Steve from hoping they’ll come back for him.

“Right.” Steve says, voice tight. “Sure. Of course.”

You’re just thinking about dragging him away from this barbed conversation, clearly pricking all his sensitive spots, when Cynthia’s sharp gaze slides over to you.

Her eyes gleam in recognition and her posture changes.

“Oh, is this the girlfriend you’ve spoken of?”

This time you’re the one who stiffens up. It’s momentary. You know that Steve’s likely freaking out too and at least one of you has to pull yourself together.

The most winning smile you can manage glides onto your face.

“That’s me.” You squeeze Steve’s arm with your hand. It's half in genuine comfort, half in show.

Cynthia regards you for another long moment before she manages to straighten up further, as though pinched.

“Oh! Yes, I recognise you. Remind me of your name, dear?”

It’s a struggle not to grit your teeth. Steve and you have been friends for nearing ten years now.

Still, you relay it politely for her. Your smile feels a bit wooden now.

“Oh, Steven. How nice.” Cynthia says, a touch of patronisation in her tone. Her beady eyes slice back to yours. “He had such a crush on you for the longest time, it’s—”

“Mom.” Steve hisses, cutting her off. Another unexpected jolt of something warm in your chest. Wait, really?

You chance a glance up at Steve. His ears are tinted pink.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of how that makes you feel, so you shelve it for later. Maybe when you’re not being thrown to the sharks by Steve’s awful parents.

Okay, too many animal metaphors. Falling asleep to the Discovery Channel last night is definitely taking its toll.

“We’re gonna mingle, find Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. He moves forward, past his mother, and tugs you with him. Your legs itch with the reminder of your scratchy tights.

“Alright, Steven. Make sure you say hello to your brother!”

Steve huffs, loud enough that you hear it, and you let him lead you through the throngs of middle-aged people. He stops when he reaches the kitchen, finally unwinding his arm with yours.

He does it so he can shove his hands in his hair, a stressed motion from Steve if you’ve ever seen one.

“God, okay, that went well.” He says sarcastically.

“Stop. You’re ruining your hair.” You reach up and rescue his lochs from his harsh grip, fingers around his wrists to tug his hands away. You’re far too aware of how long it had taken him to do.

Steve lets you. When you focus on his face, you notice the pink from his ears is also on his cheeks.

The question jumps off your tongue, unbidden.

“Was she telling the truth? About… the crush? Or was she just trying to tease you?”

The pink dips closer to scarlet. Steve sighs, his eyes closing for a moment.

“I— she- yes,” He admits. Your heart shudders at the revelation. Steve’s eyes open and he twists his hands so he can hold yours in them. “But, like, not now. In the past. Years ago, I promise.”

For his sake, you do your best not to take it too seriously. Even if you wanted to pry, now is not the time nor the place to do so.

However, you can’t resist a small, teasing grin. Steve catches it and his embarrassment gives way to exasperation instantly.

“You likeeed me,” You say in a sing-song voice.

Teasing is not unfamiliar in your friendship with Steve and getting to joke around, even at this strange party, feels nicer. Steve groans dramatically, his eyes closing and his hands pushing against your hands to shove you away.

A new voice interrupts.

“Liked? I sure hope he likes you now, being his girlfriend and all.”

You and Steve both snap out of your easy joking, remembering that you’re supposed to be presenting as a couple. Head turning to who had spoken, it only takes a couple of seconds for you to place who it is.

He looks a little bit like Steve, but not really.

The eyes are different, not as slanted and he hasn’t got any of Steve’s beautiful moles. But the nose, the mouth, put together with matching brown hair and tan skin, you know who this is without having to ask.

“Brandon.” Steve says. The name is stilted in his mouth.

Brandon smirks, his same hazel coloured eyes dragging a long, scathing once-over of his younger brother. He doesn’t look impressed, if his disinterested expression is anything to go by.

Then he does the same to you.

It’s almost tangible, the prickly feeling of his gaze raked over your body. Searching, hunting, nearly making you want to perk up to gain his approval.

God, Steve was right on the money. This guy is like his father but worse.

“The eye-candy of the month, huh?” He says to you, chuckling as if he’s made a joke.

You consider, then make the decision to throw all pleasantries out the window. You don’t smile back.

“Actually, Steve and I will be coming up on one year soon.”

Tangling your hands back together as you say it, you lean into Steve’s side. It’s warm, smells of his cologne. Only when you gaze up at him, do you let a smile grace your lips. It’s soft and genuine.

Steve smiles back down at you, crooked and lovely.

“I’m surprised anyone could settle him down,” Brandon continues and you turn back to him, fighting the urge to narrow your eyes. It doesn’t escape you how he’s jumped from one slight dig to the next.

He’s clever with it. Polite enough that Steve can’t exactly bring it up as an issue.

Brandon continues, swirling his crystal tumbler of whiskey idly. “Surprised he wanted to. Little bro always seemed like such a womanizer. Didn’t think he’d want just one chick.”

He leans in and socks Steve on the shoulder, hard, when he says the word womanizer. He’s grinning.

You have to admit, Brandon’s far too good at this — good at getting under your skin. If you hadn’t been forewarned of his behaviour, if you actually were Steve’s girlfriend, it would certainly rub you the wrong way. He’s certainly doing his best to sprinkle grit and strife between you two.

And you know it hurts Steve to hear — Sure, maybe when he was a thick-headed freshman, with no clue about the world, he had acted that way.

Nowadays... Anyone who knows Steve, even a little bit, knows he wants the real deal, more than anything.

“Not anymore,” Steve says, though it’s not nearly as confident as he usually is. He clears his throat and casts his gaze around. “Where’s Ariel?”

“Ah,” Brandon hums, looking around himself. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Not sure. I think I left her in conversation with the Erickson’s from across the street. She’s been pleading with her eyes to be saved but hey, she’s gotta learn sometime, right?”

Your lip curls up in distaste before you remember yourself. Fingers intertwined with Steve’s, you clutch them tighter for some semblance of strength.

You’ve got to get the two of you out of here before you start outright sneering at this man — which is very much not the heads-down approach Steve had asked for.

“Babe,” you say, effectively dismissing Brandon’s comment as you look up at Steve. He looks down at you and squeezes your hand. “Can we grab a drink, please? I’m feeling thirsty.”

Steve murmurs his affirmation and you both turn back to Brandon to bid a polite goodbye. His left eye twitches just once, the only indication that he’s put off by your subtle rejection.

“Well,” Brandon fixes his features, his smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t let me keep you. What was your name again, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t say.” You say, forcing the politest, more nonchalant expression on your face. You let him stew in the awkwardness, waiting for him to break and ask.

He doesn't. Brandon just smiles, though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He holds out his hand and despite how you don’t want to, you place your own in it to shake it.

“Well, it’s been real nice getting to meet you. I hope I’ll see more of you later tonight.” He smiles like a promise. His grip tightens in the handshake.

You grip his hand tighter, matching his strength, and for the first time in the whole conversation, you match his perfectly fake smile.

“Not if I see you first,” You say, spoken pleasantly enough that the meaning of your words doesn’t sink in until you’ve pulled back. You urge Steve somewhere, anywhere that’s not here.

“C’mon, let’s get that drink.”

There’s a punch-bowl out in the living room, thankfully. Displayed next to it is a large jell-o mould, arsenic green, and jiggling gently whenever someone bumps the table. Rich people stuff, you assume.

You eye it curiously as Steve quietly ladles a cup for you, then himself.

The punch is pineapple flavoured but peachy in colour. You sniff the cup Steve gives you hesitantly before you take a small sip. It’s nice. Mostly juice.

You peer up at Steve over the next sip and the cup hides your near hiccup of surprise when his hand slides along your waist. His hand, warm and large, settles on the small on your back and urges you closer.

“That was— wait, this is okay, right?” He pulls his hand back an inch, hovering over your waist. You nod without having to think about it.

“Okay,” He sighs in relief, resting it back down. His thumb moves, soothing along the fabric almost absentmindedly.

He grins at you, “That was, like, amazing to watch. The whole —not if I see you first— just, god, his face. Amazing.” His hand on your waist squeezes lightly. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you could be so snobby.”

He says the last word slightly too loud and you laugh, worriedly stealing a glance around the room. No one’s paying you much mind. You do notice, however, that Brandon’s meandered into the living room now.

You sidle closer, tucking up under Steve’s arm.

Surprise touches Steve's features; his brows raising a bit, lips parting, and cheeks colouring that ruby colour once more.

It’s as if, despite all your previous agreements, he’s forgotten that you’re supposed to be acting like a couple.

As if he’s forgotten that couples act like this. In love, that is.

“Are you finding this weird?” He murmurs, volume control on this time. It’s said just to you, muffled into your hairline.

From afar, you think it might look like he’s kissing your forehead.

You take another sip of the punch, peering at his dress shirt, and consider his question. It’s not weird, per se. You tell him as much.

“I think it’s just new,” You look up at him — closer than you usually ever see him. His lashes are long and spidery. His hazel eyes are lighter under the lights. “Just different to what we’re used to. It’s… nice, I think.”

“You think?”

You expect Steve to tease you for your own unexpected soft answer but instead, his response comes out with a strange reverence.

If you had to pick a word, something traitorous would maybe call it hopeful. Wait, traitorous? Wait, hopeful?

"Yeah," You shrug a little, no big deal. "I mean it's not that much different from how we already are, right? Just a little more..."

Steve's thumb swatches along your back, more intentionally this time.

"Touchy?" He provides.

You nod and pretend the strange acknowledgement isn't making you feel a tad more flustered.

The touchiness is really quite nice. It’s sweet to have an anchor in this freaky social situation, very much unlike the aforementioned and abandoned Ariel. Steve’s hand on you is a grounding touch, a constant soft reminder of the person who has your back—literally.

And the person is Steve — which, again, isn’t really that different from what you’re used to. He sorta always has your back anyway.

You suppose it hasn't really crossed your mind before, not in depth at least, the small changes that would occur if you and Steve really did date.

How different would it really be?

Chin tilting up, you slyly steal a look at him as Steve scans the party. He's probably planning escape routes, jaw clenched subtly. He's clean-shaven, not a whisper of that stubble that you think suits him rather well.

Would you still be friends, if the two of you dated?

The question feels silly the moment you think it, even if it's only spoken in your mind. You wrinkle your nose lightly and hide it behind another sip of punch. There's an easy answer to that.

Of course you would. It's like you just said: not that different from how you are now. Same teasing dynamic, same loyal history, same sharing embarrassing secrets and same driving around doing nothing, loving it.

Just more. More of this.

Steve squeezes your side warmly, his head twisted to look back down at you. He's asked you a question you realise.

"Hm?"

"I was asking how long do you think it's acceptable to wait to fake a heart-attack to get us out of here?”

Amusement draws your eyebrows up. You grin up at Steve. "A heart-attack? At your youthful, healthy age? C'mon, Steve, they'll never believe it."

Steve's expression twitches closer to bitchy as he considers your rebuttal. You take another sip of punch. He relents.

"Fine. What else? I’m not above faking haemorrhoids.”

The punch in your mouth comes back out in a surprised splutter, thankfully landing mostly back in your cup. A drop of it streaks down your chin.

Your surprise quickly morphs into a glare, eyes shifting up to deliver it to your best friend.

The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face tells you that his timing was not accidental.

“You’re unbelievable,” You hiss because what happened to the polite, head down, and not eventful approach that Steve had all but pleaded from you?

He reaches for a napkin for you without asking — and then tugs you in closer with the hand around your waist, brings the napkin up to your face. He hovers, giving you a moment to realise what he’s doing, before he dotingly swipes away the streak of juice.

“Careful now, honey,” He says, giving the petname a teasing intonation.

How he managed to pick the petname that does actually make your heart perk up in your chest is beyond you. Maybe he knows you better than you think.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You ask, brows raised, pretending to be annoyed. Your bitten-back grin gives you away. “Making me spit my punch and then just sprinkling in a petname—”

“—like you didn’t do that first, with Brandon in the kitchen.” Steve interjects. He crumples the napkin and drops it back on the table.

“Okay," You say. "Fair."

"We forgot to discuss that, actually," Steve says. He sounds casual but he looks away, studying the punchbowl rather intently. "What... like, do you like to be called? In a relationship?"

It is an oversight both of you managed to miss, which makes you feel a little foolish now. You focus on the question.

"I like honey," You admit gingerly. A tepid smile threatens at your lips and when you look up at Steve, he's already turned back to watch you closely. "It's a bit old-fashioned. Sounds more like something you say if you're married but...I think it's nice."

"Yeah," Steve says softly. "Me too."

Something hums brightly in your chest at his gentle expression, his fondness zeroed in only on you. You break his gaze to swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

"What about you?"

Steve chuckles. "Don't like babe."

"Too late."

“Yeah, well, obviously.”

There’s a beat and you think if you’ve ever had this conversation before. Sweetened preferences didn’t usually make it into your gossip sessions. This is new territory.

“I like sweetheart too,” Steve says, somewhat offbeat. As if he’d thought for too long if he’d say it or not.

He peers down at you, a scrunch in his nose. “Not like Brandon says it though. He might’ve ruined that one for me.”

“He can ruin this dinner, but not that.” You decide for him. “C’mon, sweetheart. We look like we’re stealing all the punch.”

Using your hand in his, you lead him away from the punch table and weave through the people milling about the living room. A touch of resistance makes you glance back. You can see a pink glow painted on Steve’s cheeks.

Your feet come to a halt, twisting back to properly face him. You can’t resist the urge to tease. “Oho, you weren’t kidding- you do like that one.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve murmurs, his tongue pressed into his cheek and his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe I raised you so poorly as to address a lady like that, Steven.”

You jump at the intrusion, realising you’d unluckily managed to stop right beside Mr. Harrington. Fuck, why are all of Steve’s family so good at sneaking up on you? You chalk it up to their snakeish tendencies.

“Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. Then, with a quick swallow, he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Harrington is not what you’d call an impressive man. Sure, his suit is tailored to fit and you have no doubt his overwhelming cologne costs more than three paychecks combined — but in substance? He lacks. Severely.

You’ve met him thrice.

Every time, you wonder how someone as wonderful as Steve, can come from someone like him.

Though, it certainly explains the god-awful ‘King Steve’ phase Steve had gone through in his freshman and sophomore year. You shiver at the memory.

“It was warranted, Mr. Harrington, believe me,” You jump in to move the attention of Steve’s father back to you, easily shouldering the blame. A smile, cool and collected, graces your face. “I was teasing him, after all.”

Mr. Harrington grunts in disagreement. “Hardly an excuse to speak so crudely, especially in front of guests.”

Opening your mouth to defend him again, Steve speaks first. “You’re right, sir. I apologise, it won’t happen again.”

Steve still shoots you a thankful glance. You clamp down your half-formed response and squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes back.

Maybe the two of you should’ve learned morse-code with all the squeezing you’re both doing. You hadn’t anticipated holding his hand for this long.

You could let go. You don’t really want to — and you’re pretty sure, neither does Steve.

You can’t remember the last time you held his hand.

“Your new girlfriend, I presume?” Mr. Harrington nods to you.

Steve barely gets a moment to respond when his father is waving him forward, stepping back to open a circle of middle-aged men behind him.

“Come, there’s a few associates I’d like you to meet, Steven.”

There’s no question, only a demand. Despite how it feels like stepping into a pit of vipers — damn you, Discovery Channel — you and Steve join the circle.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Harrington addresses the four men before you, a wry smile on his face. “My son, Steven.”

Then, as an afterthought, with a glance your way. “And his girlfriend.”

“Oh? Not fianceé?” One of the men speaks up. He’s balding, his hair combed over in an attempt to cover his ruddy coloured scalp.

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of my other son, Brandon.” Mr. Harrington says, words suddenly imbued with a proud tone. Steve’s hand grows rigid in yours, though you don’t think he’s even noticed. You send a squeeze back.

A different man speaks up. This man has all his hair, but also has a pot-belly that threatens to send buttons on his dress shirt flying.

“Ah, well, fianceé to be, I bet.” He says, speaking directly to Steve and ignoring you. “Soon it’ll be the ol’ ball and chain. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, son.”

Then the fucker winks at you—as if you’re in on some big joke. A deep, miserable pity dawns in you for their wives.

“Actually,” Steve begins. There’s an edge in his voice.

You glance up at him concernedly — sure, these guys are douchebags, but you know that. Throwing in the polite and heads-down approach in front of his father might be the worst timing ever.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Steve says. The bite in his voice has receded and instead, he sounds calm. Polite. “My girlfriend is one of the best things in my life. She’s smart, talented, beautiful— and why she chooses to waste her time with me is a mystery to me.”

He speaks as though he believes every word he’s saying, a hundred percent. You realise you’re holding your breath when Steve turns to look down at you. His hazel eyes are soft, genuine.

“She makes me a better person. She’s… She’s my best friend.”

The line between your genuine friendship and this fake concocted act blurs entirely — and suddenly, you can’t tell what is real and what is not.

Worse, you’re not sure which you'd prefer more.

Does he really think all those things about you?

Steve, who should probably, definitely take up an acting gig after this, plants a quick, nimble kiss on your forehead to sell his loving words.

He turns back to his father’s business friends.

“Believe me, if I ever get so lucky as to marry her, I’d be the ball and chain.” He chuckles. “Not the other way around.”

You’re still holding your breath, heart stuck somewhere halfway up your throat. The businessmen before you show varying amounts of surprise and annoyance—none more of the latter than Mr. Harrington himself.

It doesn’t matter. Steve’s said it all in that perfectly polite way that’s so often been used against him. Something within you glows hotly with pride.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve says politely. He drops your hand to re-link your arms once more, then nods to them. “I need to reapply my haemorrhoid cream.”

You’re pretty sure Steve turns you both away from the conversation as fast as he does, knowing that you’re gonna laugh. You do, his last sentence so unexpected it turns your laugh into this foul half hacking, half coughing noise.

Steve pats your back, expecting it, raising his voice as he walks you forward, “There, there.”

There’s a little smugness in his tone. You wait until you pass back into the front hall — now Cynthia Harrington free — to unlink your arms and smack him on the chest.

“Asshole!” You exclaim, but you’re already laughing. Steve’s laughing too, the sound bright and honeyed amongst the dull murmur of the event. God, the looks on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that.”

“Hey, it got us out of the conversation, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze falling from his for a moment. “I mean, won’t your dad…?”

Steve sighs and then shrugs. “I think I’m done trying to impress people like that. If you’re not up to standard to them, why the hell would I care about their opinion of me?”

Your heart feels a little wobbly at that. Steve has always been devastatingly earnest; it’s just less often directed at you. The two of you are used to teasing.

You fall back on it. “Awww,” You coo, gripping his forearms and leaning forward with a coy grin. “You got haemorrhoids for me, honey? That’s so romantic.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.

“Hey. Fake haemorrhoids, thank you very much.”

“Eh, what’s the big difference?”

“One is my bleeding heart, the other is my bleeding ass, is the big difference.”

He can barely get through the sentence before his laugh takes over. You dissolve into laughter too, cheeks beginning to ache with the force of your grin.

“Steve? Leaving so soon?”

The sweet bubble of laughter around you and Steve pops at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He’s in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and at your attention, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve says. His eyes track Brandon with every calculated step his brother makes til he stops, a few metres from you both.

“Y’know, I heard that hasty exit in front of dad. Did you know that was in front of Mr. Collings? Y’know, the one guy dad’s trying to close a deal with?”

Shit. You swallow heavily. You didn’t know that. You know neither did Steve.

Beside you, Steve grows tense. When he swallows, you hear his throat click from dryness.

Brandon watches and revels in the tiny reactions, his smirk growing. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets casually.

“I talked with mom, too. Learned some interesting stuff, especially about your pretty lady here.”

He nods to you, hazel eyes slicing across to meet yours. Your nerves start to stand on end, something threatening in his calm demeanour setting you off. You grip Steve’s forearms tighter.

“That she is the best friend you’ve been mooning over all these years. And I just thought—” Brandon clicks his tongue. “Man, what are the chances that we don’t hear a thing about you two getting together until this conference? Crazy timing, if you ask me.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining the two of you closely. His smug nature is far, far too much like that of a predator toying with its prey.

“It’s like- wait, no—”

Brandon cuts himself out, fishing a hand out his pocket to gesture to you, grinning smugly like something is funny.

“Is he paying you?”

You recoil back, so baffled and taken aback by the cruel mockery Brandon jumps to make of his younger brother. To make of your best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

Brandon blinks, surprised, and a bit of his smugness dries up. He draws his hand back, holding it up defensively.

“C'mon, like it's not just the kind of pathetic move he’d pull. I haven’t even seen the two of you kiss.”

He chuckles as if the idea is ludicrous.

STEP THREE: THE KISS

You act without thinking — turning back to Steve, your hands reach up to tightly grasp the collar of his dress shirt.

You see Steve’s hazel eyes widen ever-slightly, then you’re pulling him down, pressing up on your toes, and kissing him.

And… oh.

He’s not half bad at that, you think. It takes Steve a moment, but then his arms circle your waist and after a tentative moment, he kisses back gently, deepening the kiss. Not bad at this at all.

For one brief, precious second, you’re kissing your best friend.

And it's entirely incomparable to any kiss you've experienced before—immeasurable in passion and utterly undoing in a thousand ways.

Steve breathes a little heavier, his cheeks flushed, when you break away. You sink back down off your tiptoes, hands dragging off Steve’s rumpled collar to rest on his chest. You turn to face Brandon.

He doesn’t look so smug anymore. He looks ticked off. Good.

“Brandon, you’re an asshole.” You state plainly. “I hope one day, soon, your fiancée realises what a cruel and shallow bully you really are. And I hope she leaves you for it. Truly.”

The ticked off expression on Brandon's face veers closer to aghast and offended—as if he can’t believe you have the gall to speak to him that way.

“I hope you realise what a stain you are on other people’s life and I sincerely hope that I never have the displeasure of meeting you again.”

Moving to grip Steve’s hand in yours, you move towards the door without a goodbye.

STEP FOUR: THE AFTERMATH

It’s bright outside. Stepping out feels a bit like waking from a stress dream, where in reality, the sun is shining and things that were driving you nuts aren't really problems you actually have.

You stall on the front doorstep, where you were just an hour or so ago.

Well, that didn’t go… awfully, you think. In fact, you’re feeling quite happy with serving Brandon a perfect brand of his own medicine.

You’re about to open your mouth and say as much when Steve drops your hand, brushing past you to head down the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Your stomach drops at the tone of his voice, a prickly disappointment draped over his words. You’d think you’re reading into it — if Steve wasn’t currently heading for the car, not even waiting for you to catch up. A dead giveaway.

Tights itching from the hasty movement, you quickly follow him and puzzle for a moment. He’s mad. But at what? It takes only a moment to hazard a pretty good guess.

Before the dinner, the awkward conversation of how touchy you two would be had been breached. You and Steve both agreed; no kissing. Even with how close the two of you were, it felt like strange territory to cross into. An unspoken line not to cross.

By kissing him, you’d broken that rule.

Guilt wells up within you. Your moment of telling Brandon to suck it suddenly feels tainted by the sliminess of kissing Steve without permission. You pull at your tights uncomfortably, trailing behind Steve on the sidewalk.

As you reach his car, you swallow the lump in your throat, and speak up.

“I'm sorry, okay?"

Steve, who's reached the driver's side door, looks up and over the top of the car. Then furrows his brow.

"What?"

"For..." The word gets stuck in your throat like wet paper. "Kissing you when we said we wouldn't do that. That was-" You inhale sharply and study the trim along the edge of the car window.

"I just really couldn't stand how he was talking to you. And I thought that would shut him up."

You glimpse back up at Steve. He's softened a little at your words, the crease between his brows gone now. His eyes dart away, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.

"Yeah, well, you were right. It worked."

Steve seems to hear how short his words sound right after he says them, especially as you rear back an inch. He gives a sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Look, I'm not mad about the kiss, okay?"

His particular wording isn't lost on you.

"But you are mad." You press.

"I'm not."

You step closer to the car, desperate to understand. He is mad but he's not mad about the kiss? Does that mean he is or isn't mad at you?

"You sound mad."

Steve makes a sputtering noise, like he's torn between denying it or not. You catch it, pressing your hands against the car window to lean in even closer.

"So, you are mad. At me? Are you sure it's not because of the kiss?"

“Yes. No." He's furrowing his brow again, confused between how to answer your question correctly. He pinches the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "It’s- no, I'm not mad at you.”

Still not an exact answer. You eye him warily, your guilt still lingering at the front of your chest, aching painfully. It forces out your next words, reminiscent of a rambling apology. You take a step back from the car and begin to pace.

"It's okay if it is the kiss, Steve. I- I mean, we said we wouldn't and I broke that- and I don't want you to ever feel like—"

“I just— I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that!”

That halts your pacing, feet quite suddenly rooted to the spot. You turn rapidly back to Steve, your eyes wider than they were a moment ago, heart jammed back up your throat. Did he just say...?

Steve realises what's escaped him a moment after you do. His hand leaps to cover his mouth as if he can smother the secret he's just let slip.

His eyes crush closed. He smushes his hand against his face more forcefully as though he's trying to push the words back into his mouth.

"What does that mean?" You ask softly. "Steve?"

He clears his throat, dragging the hand down and off his face sluggishly. "That, ah, no- nothing!" He deflects, hands making a crossing motion. "It means—zilch. I just, ah, you know- it's—"

He's thought about it before—about how he'd want a first kiss between the two of you to go.

A glow in you dissolves, the saturated sweetness of it riding through your veins like a sugar rush. You have a sudden wish you weren't wearing such a ghastly outfit for this conversation.

"Steve," You interrupt him. You round the front of the car slowly, stopping with still some distance between you. Let him meet you in the middle. If you're right about all this, that is.

"If there's even a small part of you that wants to do that again," Your breath shudders at your inhale. "You need to tell me."

"A small part?" Steve echoes your words, his tone incredulous. He rounds the car to meet you, his hands out in front of him, flexing into fists. "Don't— don't say what I think you're going to say, if you don't mean it."

He pauses in front of you, eyes blazing with a fierce emotion as he stares down at you. He studies your face and then groans, tipping his head back and burying his hands in his hair.

"It's a big part, y/n. A huge fucking part of me wants to kiss you again and has wanted to for awhile." Steve stresses. His hands sag down from his mussed hair to hang off his neck before he gestures back to the Harrington house.

"What I said in there? About my crush on you being ages ago? I lied. I've had a crush on you for years and I don't think I ever stopped and so if you don’t mean what I think you mean, please don’t… Don’t give me hope.”

There's desperation in his final plea.

A thousand emotions course through you, all competing for your attention. You squint incredulously at Steve, half tempted to sock him for the feeling of a kept-secret. You're best friends for gods sake. Years. Years, he said.

A tremble takes your heart. You open your mouth and try to find the right words.

"Wha... You never said anything."

It comes out a little insulted.

Steve stares at you, flabbergasted. "You never seemed interested!"

"I didn't think I was your type!"

Though it seems impossible, Steve's eyes widen further, his hands shifting to hold out before him, fingers spread wide.

"Are you saying you've thought about it before!?"

"No!" You exclaim, suddenly stressed. You run your hands across your face agitatedly. "I mean, yes. Of course, I've thought about it before!”

Your fingers splay against your cheeks, pulling an expression not unlike the painting The Scream. You're not sure you've ever been this stressed, this undone before.

“Every day through fuckin' high school someone asked me if we were a thing. I just... hadn't, like, considered it til today. Properly."

"Okay, okay," Steve breathes in deeply.

He brings his hands together, clasping them, and he rests them against his forehead. For a second, he stares at the ground before he meets your gaze, dropping his hands.

"And... now?"

Fuck. Right. Cards on the table, you guess.

"Like," You don't know where to put your hands now. They drop off your face and hang loosely at your side. "I told you, I hadn't really, like, thought about it — but we were in there and it just wasn't that different!"

It's a heavy effort to keep yourself looking at Steve. There's no decoding the expression on his face, not when you're already frantically trying to unscramble your own feelings.

"If we did actually, yanno—" You stumble over the words, a fierce and bumbling heat flaming your face. "—date and be—I don't know—boyfriend and girlfriend, like, I guess what would actually change? And now I think we've just been one step removed from dating this whole time!"

Steve takes an almost quivering breath in and takes a step forward, bringing you both closer. He asks the million-dollar question.

"Would you... want that?"

"I," You flex your hands anxiously. "I don't think we can go back to the way things were." You say truthfully.

Something crestfallen ripples across Steve's face. It's hidden away in the next second. You gulp involuntarily. You feel so nervous you can feel it's fizzing inside you, bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink.

But more than that, it feels like you're balancing on the precipice of something good. Like waiting for news on whether you get something you desperately want.

And there it is; the true revelation.

"And I don't think I want to."

The admittance hangs between you, strung out and tinged with your apprehension and Steve's disbelief. He stares at you, brown hair tousled and messy, pink lips parted in his surprise.

He's your best friend and he's been waiting all this time. Holding the torch quietly, the flame flickering low sometimes, but always burning, always for you.

How the hell did you miss it?

"You..." He croaks. He reaches up and tugs at his tie as if it's suddenly too tight around his neck. "You mean that? You'd want to, like, date me?"

What you really want is to kiss him again. To chase away the tender look of disbelief in his eyes with a passionate press of your mouth against his. But you won't kiss him without asking twice in one day.

"I would like to try," You say. It takes a lot of courage to not lose your nerve. You rock up onto the balls of your feet to let out some of the rampant nervous energy.

Steve clocks it, some part of his brain that knows you, and all your tells well, finally coming back online. You're as nervous as he is, and maybe just as unsure.

But you want to try.

That's about all Steve's ever wanted. A chance for more between you.

He closes the distance between you, his hands shifting up and sliding along your neck to cup your jaw. It's ticklish enough to make you shiver and Steve smiles at the motion. He draws your faces closer and you push up on your toes to reach properly, magnetically drawn in.

He pauses just before your lips can touch.

Your eyes scan his face and he does the same to yours, both of you drinking in the intimate closeness. This close, you can see the tiny quiver hidden in his lips.

Fondness percolates between you, sweeter than sunlight and softer than a daydream. You can't resist the smile that toys at your mouth. Steve smiles too.

You're excited.

His pupils are blown wider than usual, only a ring of hazel around them. It might be your new favourite colour.

"I imagined," Steve murmurs lowly, his eyes now trained on your lips. "Our first kiss would be more like this."

The kiss is different from the one in the hallway. There's no surprise in it, no hesitance — Steve cradles your face between his hands preciously and kisses you so fiercely you ache.

He kisses with painstaking reverence. With an unfaltering adoration. Steve kisses you as though he envies anything that's ever touched your lips.

You grapple to find purchase on his suit jacket, your fingers curling around the material and pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve hums into your mouth, his nose pressing against yours. You're both trying to pull each other closer.

"That was-" You breath heavily against his mouth as the kiss breaks. Your eyes open. Steve's gazing at you through his lashes, honey-eyes doting.

"You-" You try again, realising you haven't finished your sentence. You can barely get a word out, a relentless grin overtaking your lips. "I mean—you thought it- like that?"

"I hoped." Steve whispers. He's grinning too, not yielding any of the nearness between you. His thumbs on your jaw swatch softly across your skin.

God, he'll undo you entirely. This newness, this intimacy, it's ruining you. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth and bite it meanly to try to contain your grin.

"So, like, you wanna try? For real?" You say, matching his whisper. Speaking too loud feels like it breaks the moment—and you want to savour it as long as you can.

You can't even imagine how Steve must be feeling, waiting all those years. You take your feelings and multiple them tenfold. It's dizzying. It only endears you even more.

"Like, being boyfriend girlfriend?"

Steve's eyes crinkle in happiness as he scrunches them closed for a moment. His nose scrunches a little too at the motion. He takes a deep inhale and opens his eyes.

"Dating, boyfriend girlfriend, sweethearts, I don't care what you call it." He breathes. "Yes. Yes, to all of it."

Then he kisses you again, stealing the affection off your lips with an ardour that threatens to make your knees weak.

You kiss and kiss until you and Steve are both smiling too much to properly continue.

Only a couple days ago he'd asked the same question you had asked him, except as a begged request to help his ruse. He's the only one you'd have said yes to, you know now, the only exception.

One can only wonder how the two of you would have carried on if you had said no — never gone along with his frankly ridiculous plan, never showed up on his arm to fool an event full of people, never kissed him just to piss off his brother.

Never known the true depths of affection Steve held for you.

As you crowd in closer — your lips skimming across his gently, hearing the hitch in Steve's breath before you kiss him once more— you're thankful you'll never really know.

taggin some peeps below! @illyrianbitch @headkiss @brettsgoldstein @spideystevie @djotime

@katsu28 @inthehystericalrealm @djarinova @cheugyphobe @sunshinesteviee

@sunlitide @citrinesparkles @bigfrogs

just ppl that either expressed interest in the preview or i thought would enjoy! <3 i don't know what possessed me to pick this draft up and straight up like double the word count and finish it in one day but whew,,, i enjoyed that sm

[thewertsearch]

GT: Well ive thought about it. GT: Even went downstairs to check the great vaulty doodad. GT: And predictably the infernal contraption is nowhere to be found. TT: Well yeah, Jake. TT: That's sort of the point. TT: Thrill of the hunt and all.

Ok, I think I get what's going on here.

Jake's Dreambot is probably the last remaining source of uranium on the entire island, and the AR is turning its retrieval into a game of hide-and-seek.

I'm not sure why Jake hadn't already retrieved this particular chunk of uranium, especially since he has no use for the robot himself. Maybe he was keeping it operational for sentimental reasons?

TT: I thought you liked to manicure the image of a dude who shits his pants over a good adventure. […] GT: I mean i wouldnt put it in a way like that or come out against a solid policy of clean trousers. But yes adventure is awesome. GT: I just prefer the idea of adventures which i can actually win.

Jake's picturing a LIVING GRANDSON SMACKDOWN - and, frankly, so am I. That robot's being piloted by an absurdly advanced AI, and I'm pretty sure Jake doesn't have any combat experience.

Winning, in this case, is shorthand for 'waiting for the AR to take pity on you'.

TT: It seems there is a 76.10395784% chance you are pussying out on me. Are you pussying out on me, Jake?

Now, to be fair, that one would only work if Jake had agreed to this challenge beforehand. After all, you can't pussy out of something you never pussied into.

GT: It seems it seems it seems!!! GT: It seems there is a million percent chance that you say it seems way too much and do it just to sound more like a lame robot from a movie and also probably just to piss me off! […] TT: Have you ever stopped to think that while I may be bound to processes inside the glasses of a real and incredibly cool guy, my algorithms in cognitive totality comprise a conscious entity not far short of the experiential and emotional complexity of a human being? GT: Oh malarkey. GT: YOU ARE A TIN CAN. ROBOTS DONT HAVE FEELINGS.

Jake, it's been sixty seconds since you complained about him pretending not to have feelings.

TT: I do have feelings. And you're shitting on them. TT: It sucks. GT: Oh. GT: Um. GT: Im sorry then if thats the case.

Well, that's something, at least - but I don't think Jake really understands why the AR is offended, so I'm worried it's just going to happen again in their next argument.

How long has the Responder existed for, anyway? Jake seems familiar with his schtick, so he's probably not brand-new - but at the same time, Jake's surprised apology makes it sound like the AR has only recently started to express feelings.

Maybe the AR has existed for years, but hasn't been sentient for years. Like, it really did just start as a primitive response script, but Bro kept uploading more of his personality onto it, until it slowly began to think and feel. Fascinating idea, I have to say.

GT: It can just be difficult to drum up sympathy for a program that presents itself as an impostor so often. GT: Maybe if you werent so ready to insist you were the genuine article all the time? Or didnt make it so confusing for me… GT: I think it would be best if we henceforth treated you as a totally distinct… uh… THING from my buddy.

Hey, it's not like the AR can stop imitating Bro. Even if he wanted to have his own identity, he's currently bound to the response script of someone else's Pesterchum account. When he talks, he's forced to do it through Bro's handle.

All evidence points to the Responder being a thinking, feeling being with his own inner world - which makes it a little ethically dubious to force him to be Bro's secretary. The guy shouldn't be treated as a bargain-bin Bro, the same way that Davesprite wasn't a backup Dave. We all saw how that ended, and it sure wasn't pretty.

[gh0stly-mp3]

would you break my heart, oliver?

oliver aiku x teammate male!reader

synopisis: oliver aiku, your best friend, shows up at your apartment at 3 AM after breaking up with his gf cause he cheated, but you get mad at him

tags: bff!reader, center back!reader, reader is lovely, oliver is bad with real feelings, both are secretly in love

warnings: cheating, angst w happy ending, fear of unreciprocated love, pretty gn (like 2 mentions of gender)

Oliver is the typical womanizer (but with all genders) who never dates the same person for more than two months. According to him, he gets bored very quickly, which is why he has a new partner every few months.

You, on the other hand, have always been in long-term, consistent relationships, taking a while to confess to whomever you liked and always wanting to make sure that you both feel the same way about each other.

Even though you were opposites, you were still best friends and teammates for a long time, and you always scolded Oliver for his inconsequential attitudes towards his love life (but he hardly ever listened).

The last straw for you was when he showed up at your house at 3 AM because his then-girlfriend kicked him out after discovering he was talking to someone else on instagram. You were incredulous; you knew he was a scumbag, but you didn't expect it to be this bad; after all, he was there when you got cheated on, something that affected you a lot.

"What the fuck, Oliver? What are you thinking, man? Jumping from relationship to relationship is one thing, but cheating is another level! I can't believe this, dude." - You yelled.

"I made a mistake, okay? I'm sorry, it's just..." - Oliver tried to explain himself, visibly nervous about your reaction.

"I don't care! If you stay at my place tonight, tomorrow you'll have to apologize to her and admit that you're an idiot... Oh, and you'll sleep on the couch".

"What? I know i fucked up, but it's cold, man, you always let me sleep with you".

"Not today, cause if you betray the trust of someone who trusted you with their body and heart, why the fuck would anyone else trust you? Grow the fuck up..." - You said harshly, heading for the cupboards and taking out a pillow and a blanket for Oliver. - "Good night, Oliver. We'll talk tomorrow"

As you lay down on your bed, you curled up, clutching your legs. If he could do this to a girl as beautiful as Haruka, what could he do to you? You were just one of his male friends.

You've been friends forever, you were the first guy to talk to Oliver when he joined your team. Your bond was incredible, you understood each other so well, you liked the same things and had the same mindset on a match. You two occupied the same defensive position as center backs, and together you were unstoppable.

But how did it all end up like this? How did you end up falling in love with him? Oliver was incredible at everything except relationships, and the one thing you shouldn't have wanted was exactly what you did want. His love.

You listened to the way he talked about his partners and wished he'd talk about you the same way, but then you remembered what was to follow, a dry and emotionless breakup. How could such a gentleman be such a whore at the same time?

Anyway, there you were, crying silent tears, thinking that if you tried to confess your love for him, you would end up with a heart broken into more than a thousand pieces. While these thoughts were running through your head, you heard footsteps and then a knock on the door.

"Hey... Can we talk? I..." - It was Oliver, speaking in a low, weak voice. "I don't want you to think I'm terrible..."

"Oliver, not now..." - You replied, distressed at the thought of him seeing you cry. - "It's okay, man..."

"Promise you won't hate me?" - He asked, scared. - "I didn't know you'd be so pissed off and... You're the only person I really have, I don't want to lose you over something I did without thinking..." - Definitely something you'd rarely hear come out of Oliver's mouth, he was finally putting his real feelings into something.

"It's not that, Oliver..." - The words, stuck in your throat, urgently wanted to come out. Just say it, three words, that's all. - "I..."

The door handle is pushed down slowly, you see the face of a distressed Oliver, which makes your heart squeeze a bit. You don't hate him, it's quite the opposite actually, but you can't tell him that, can you?

"Look... I was a jerk to Haruka, and besides, I did exactly what you said I should never do. I'm sorry, okay? I just don't want you to hate me, even though I might deserve it... I just want to have someone like you around, you know?" - Deep down, Oliver knew exactly what his problem was, his stomach full of fluttering butterflies was a symptom he'd hardly ever felt. A symptom of this so-called love.

"Would you cheat on me? If you loved me, would you betray me too? Would you get tired of me?" - You asked hopelessly, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Never. Absolutely never." - He answered without hesitation. - "You?... only a complete lunatic would cheat on you. For fuck's sake, I've been your friend for years and I've never even been bored around you! I'd give anything to have someone like you!" - Oliver shut up abruptly when he realized that perhaps he had said too much.

"How could I be sure of that?"

"If I cheated on you, I'd give up soccer" - a direct and honest answer, the truth of his heart. Few words would have such an impact on you as those.

You widened your eyes, wondering if you had actually heard those words come out of Oliver's mouth. He would give up soccer for you? Really? A wave of emotions washed over your body and with an impulse you got out of bed and hugged him tightly.

"Please don't give up soccer... Keep playing with me... And love me." - the most heartfelt words you've ever said, put into play, all your cards on the table. Now it was his turn.

"I already love you, idiot."

[tan1shere]

Bite It Lick It Spit It - where'd you put it (extra)

A/n: thought I'd add a lil smth smth since everyone's loving the previous story, enjoy you horny mfs MUAH 💋

Warnings - suggestiveness not really any smut. Still mdni just in case doe <3

The original - masterlist

After that blissed out night, you've been wearing that underwear. All. The. Time. And she loved it, it drove her mental. Whether you were just wearing a plain t-shirt with them around the house. You'd wear them with skirts in public. You were like an intoxicating drug in her eyes, mind and soul. She truly couldn't get enough.

So much so, you found them missing on occasion. Either they were in the wash, or Ms Eilish had them somewhere in her possession. Theyd tend to go missing when you take them off after a long day. Her fucking favorite. Once you eventually caught on it was her doing the abducting, you came to her. Justtt to ask. Even though you had all the idea on why she did.

"Bils." You say going over to her and patting her down. "Frisky much?" She replies. "Where on earth have you put them." She brings her finger up to her lips. " 's a secret." You roll your eyes. "Billieeee." "Fine fine, they're probably in my pants on the sofa in our room." Your eyebrow raises. "Probably?" She shrugs. "Orrr they could be in a few others- I can't remember which." You sigh at the response. "You're crazy." You say heading for the stairs. "For you? Fuck yeah baby!"

It had become a habit that she'd stick them in her Jean pants. She'd take it to work sometimes forgetting where she was, and the fact she still had them in there until Finneas embarrassed the shit out of her. Or more so herself.

"We could maybe do something like this-" He began to speak about the stuff they were working on, when he noticed something on the floor. He knew Clauds underwear and that was something she definitely didn't own. "What on earth." He bends slightly, picking it up. Billies eyes widen, so incredibly wide her eyes might've popped out. Her cheeks go so red, snatching them out of his hand. Fuck, you dumbass idiot. She swallows. There was an awkward silence wondering how he was going to react. When this dude, let's out the wheeziest laugh known to man.

Billies eyes rest, almost glearing at him. "That is not funny, I can't believe that just fucking happened." He tries to control his laughter. "You truly are a dumbass." She swats his arm but he just continues his giggles. "Back to work come on." She spits, having enough of the laughing. "I was like- hmm Claudia doesn't own anything this-" "FINNEAS." She groans. He just laughs some more, she was never living that down. But Billie being Billie she eventually joins in on the laughing, shaking her head at the silly situation.

Yet again you were on the search for them, looking through most of her pants. You gave up in the end, calling her.

"You have them as we speak don't you."

"Well damn, you caught me."

Even during she needed them. Just the fact such a tight slutty thing was on your body for the whole day drove her wild, she didn't care in the slightest how filthy any action may be. Sniffing them, so on and so on. One of her filthy fantasies was you having them in your mouth, as you rode her. Just dangling there between your teeth. You were a tad bit confused at why she requested that, but the way she'd moan under you. The way she'd say your name. The feeling of her fingertips on the skin of your thighs as you rode her. Mixed in with your tits bouncing in her face. It was foul, but she enjoyed every single bit of it.

She was so thankful you went into that shop that day. Blessing not only you with a pretty pair of new underwear. But her aswel, getting the pleasure of witnessing it first hand.

You're welcome

[rinsoap]

➣ includes : boyfriend!matsukawa issei. and lord this is sooo suggestive but it never crosses into actual smut, it's just.. kind of intense making out and hickeys. this is probably ooc but I DONT CARE! HE'S SEXY OOC!!!

note : for my love @angelkiyo bc she gave me some inspo n i luv her <333 i got totally off track from ur original idea about mattsun n makki eating crazy edibles so yeah ummmm......

"let me know if you like it" matsukawa issei grins at you, waiting for you to eat the cookie in your hand held above your head. you're splayed across his bed, head hanging off it, turned to face your boyfriend. he's close to you but sitting on his rug with his back leaning against his bed. his arms rest on his knees, head lazily lolling back, copying how you've turned to face him.

you inspect the chocolate chips warily. last time you and mattsun got baked, it had you talking to the frank ocean poster on his wall for an hour and then going completely silent, no talking, for the rest of the night. staring at the wall silently while you desperately tried to regain your composure had become a common occurence when getting high. mattsun suggested you should slow down on it, and you agreed. but recently, you had been incredibly stressed, and it had been a a month or two since you had given up weed. so when your boyfriend proposed a sesh to help ease your mind, you happily accepted. that didn't mean you weren't having at least some reservations.

"i know you've been greening out on the old shit," he takes a bite, "that's why i got a new plug. i haven't greened out yet, but i know you're low tolerence."

"you didn't have to do that, 'sei" your eyebrows raise, flattered that he would go to the trouble to do something as tedious as that.

"anything for you, pretty girl," he shrugs, and gives you a small kiss, pulling back with a lazy smile that was enough to make you feel out of it without even eating the cookie, "and i didn't really fuck with the other dude anyways, always getting my stuff late. this new guy has edibles which is so much better than having to bake it myself"

you gasp. "i thought you liked baking them with me!" you roll over onto your stomach, folding your arms to rest your chin on them, pouting. "aw baby, don't pout," he pokes your cheek, "y'know i like baking with you, we can just bake something normally." you try not to smile which only makes his grow wider. "now eat that quick i wanna go see a movie" he nods to the cookie still in your hand, and you take a bite, emphasizing each chew sarcastically. "okay but if i start tripping out trying to kiss frank ocean again it's your fault"

"i'll break you guys up, no problem. i can't have you kissing him"

"what? are you jealous?"

"yeah, of you. as soon as i break you guys up, it's my turn to kiss him. i'll defend his honour and everything"

"i can't believe you would choose frank ocean over me- you know what just... go grab your keys."

mattsun pulls into the drive-in movie, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. you continue to demolish the burger in your hand, a big grin on your face to see the movie playing was jennifer's body. "i love this movie!!" you exclaim through bites as megan fox holds a lighter to her tongue. "yo slow down" matttsun laughs and grabs the fast food bag from your lap. that pulls your gaze away from the movie to him as you lick your fingers clean from sauce, then widen your smile. "thank you for the food, baby"

he doesn't know what it is, but that has him feeling some type of way. maybe it's the weed, or maybe it's the fact that you just look so good right now. tank top spaghetti strap lazily slipping off your shoulder and little shorts riding up your thighs, makeup marinated and lip liner almost entirely smeared off under the gloss. he wanted to kiss it completely off, he wanted to slide both straps off your shoulder, he wanted you.

his pupils dilate even more, and he leans over to kiss you. your initial surprise dissipates into comfort as you melt into his touch. you tuck a stray curl behind his ear at the same time his hand goes to rest on the back of your neck. "mm, what was that for?" you giggle when he pulls away. "you just had a lil somethin' on your lips. had to get it for you"

"you're so sweetttt," you're drawing out your words, feeling dizzy from his sudden kiss, "you're sooo good to me" he love how affectionate you can be with your word when high. you refocus on the movie with a content expression on your face.

"you're so cute. i just kissed you, that's all." he muses, and he breaks your attempted concentration on the movie with a kiss to your neck. as he sucks a purple mark into your soft flesh, your breath hitches. "issei..."

"you're so sensitive like this." you can feel his teasing smile against your skin, and you internally roll your eyes. as if he isn't equally sensitive. he doesn't try to hide it, a small groan leaving his lips when his hand returns to its place on your thigh and you grip his forearm. the noises you're making has him feeling lightheaded, and he can't get enough of you. "'sei please can't you see i'm trying to watch a movie?" you complain while you lean into his touch especially when his thumb rubs on your skin. your thighs close on his hand, and he smirks, still pressing small blooming bruises into your neck. "'m sorry baby, i just can't get enough of you"

[sashimi020]

chaos meets guitarist p3[manjiro x reader]

p1 | p2

A/N: i hopee u guys like this chapter! thank you so much for the support on the last two chs. hope this is as enjoyable :33, comments, reblogs n likes r much appreciated!!<3

CREDITS FOR THE ART ON THE BANNER ALSO, @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe, all credits to them for the idea of making one of y/ns music bandmates be someone in the gang i hope i did it justice! (thank you, we all say in unison)

baji pulled out the restaurant table chair and slumped on it with a long sigh. kazutora huffed "long day?" "jeez. you have no idea. i seriously should've prioritized my studies back when we were teens. this shit is so hard and everyone else is doing way better than me! i have to work like, 10 times harder than everyone else" "well, you're improving right? that's all that matters. don't compare yourself to others..." chifuyu responds, baji chews the inside of his cheek, "whatever. let's just enjoy for a bit yeah? what are you guys ordering?"

__ chifuyu speaks up, "how have you guys been? we honestly need to catch up like this more often" kazutora nods and sighs "it's been fine," he rested his head on his palm, "i met this girl a few months ago-" "ooh! you like her?" "god! no, baji would you let me finish?" kazutora huffs childishly, "i ran into her when she was getting her jacket altered from mitsuya, somehow we all started talking and turns out that she's trying to do some music thing alongside college. after meeting up a few times after that," he pauses to take a bite out of his fries, "we decided to work together to start a music course-slash-band thing, i mean, it's nothing much right now, i'm still working at XJ land and obviously i will be for a while," he turns to chifuyu "but this shit seems pretty promising" he pauses "we'll do covers and upload them online, we'll take commissions, y'know, do gigs and also teach."

chifuyu smiles warmly "that sounds great, you guys should play for us sometime" baji snorted, "at least you won't be blasting your dumbass guitar and bass in the apartment anymore" he paused, "but in all seriousness, i'm happy for you dude. i'm glad your pursuing this"

__

becoming friends with draken and emma came with a lot of benefits. firstly, you found yourself being more social than before. somehow, they had an incredibly huge friend circle, it intimidated you at first but over time and over hangouts, you'd gotten used to all of them and they all seemed to like you quite a bit thankfully. you had the chance of getting to meet hina and takemitchi properly, who were so heartwarming and wonderful. they were super cute together.

they certainly made you feel single though.

your prospects in relationships were never very great - in all honesty, it would be great to have a partner - you quickly push the idea, though, in favour of kickstarting your music business.

__

"we're going out for dinner with everyone today, right?" draken spoke as he yawned, "mhmm! you think we should invite y/n? they already met.. hina.. mikey and takemitchi, they all got along so well so maybe?… i feel like they'd fit right in. i'll ask the others first too though" emma said as she stretched her sleepiness away. "yeah sure, that sounds good" draken responded. __

emma: hi guyss

kazutora: sup

chifuyu: yoo

emma: would it be alright if a friend tagged along today? they're pretty cool and i think you'd all get along well

baji: sure why not

baji: i haven't made a new friend since high school 💀 college is eating up all my time i swear

mitsuya: sounds cool!

hina: me and mitchi met them recently! super chill

hina: can't wait for tn! its been a while since we all got together! __

emma: hey y/n!! ru free tonight?

y/n: oh! yeah i think so

emma: would you wanna come to dinner with us? a few of our other friends will be there too!

_

you stare at your phone for a few seconds and consider the offer. it was undoubtedly thoughtful but you found yourself hesitating. meeting new people was always a rather daunting task, and you'd developed a certain feeling towards this group of people. everyone was so amicable and enjoyable to be around that you hoped that you were the same to them. 'what if i embarrass myself?' 'what if i'm too awkward?' worries and anxieties plagued your mind.

but you needed to take this risk. moving into a new place and finding a long term friend group wasn't an easy task. why miss out on this opportunity?w

_

y/n: sure, sounds good, what time?

_

the evening rolled around, you got ready and met up with draken, emma and mikey. "ready to go?"emma asked you, you nod in response, still feeling slightly nervous. the four of you got in the car, draken and emma sitting in front and you and mikey in the back.

"actually ah, i'm slightly nervous" you chuckle, the anxiousness in your voice was more prominent that you'd have liked it to be, "i always get like this while meeting new people," "awh! don't worry, you'll get along just fine, everyone will like you for sure," emma reassured you. you glance out of the car window and watch the scenery speed by. mikey eyes you curiously, a part of him hoping you'd turn your head and talk to him instead.

_

the four of you get out of the car, seemingly having arrived early. you all settle down at the table and chat for a bit. mikey huffs in a childish manner and it interrupts your train of thought, "everything okay?" you tilt your head towards him, "fine, just cold. stupid.. dumb air con.." he pouted and mumbled. you pause, shrug off your jacket and place it over his shoulders. "that better?" his cheeks blossomed into a noticably adorable pink colour, "you didn't have to.." he muttered but didn't take it off. draken and emma share a knowing glance as she smirks smugly. "cute" emma chuckes, "huh?!" "i've never seen you act like this mikey," draken snorts.

before mikey can defend himself the others arrive.

you lean over to introduce yourself, a taller guy with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail holds the door open for a few others, 'why the hell are all these people so tall.. it's ridiculous' you think. you see hina, and takemitchi walk in, then suddenly, your brain malfunctions.

"KAZUTORA?!"

"Y/N?"

"MITSUYA??"

"Y/N???"

"YOU GUYS KNOW EACH OTHER?!"

"you- wait.. i.."

"SHE'S YOUR NEIGHBOUR?!"

"SHE'S THE ONE THAT WORKS WITH YOU GUYS???"

hina interrupts the chaos "hey! guys, sit down first don't yell in the restaurant! jeez.." you stare in slight awe as the others glance at you in slight confusion and curiousity. "small world huh?" mitsuya chuckles, somehow the most composed out of everyone, "okay! i need an explaination right now" emma interjects, "we..- well they're the friends i uh, i'm working with on the music centre and band" "ohhh" everyone says in unison.

your brain feels fuzzy from slight shock and happiness. what a pleasnt coincidence. "baji, chifuyu, meet y/n, y/n, meet baji and chifuyu". you give them a small smile "it's nice to meet you both!" "sup!" "nice to meet you too!". after everyone exchanged pleasantries, you all sit down and order. mitsuya smirked and stared at mikey, "that's y/n's jacket, no? the one i altered," "oh- oh, yeah. well, he said he was cold.. so..". mitsuya smirked, "sure, yeah" __

"ah.." kazutora laughs heartily, "this is great! i was just going to introduce you, y'know?" you smile sheepishly, you never expected things would turn out this way. any anxiety you felt before coming was mostly quelled.

the converstion went on, you learned about chifuyu's pet shop, you knew kazutora had a part-time but you found it amusingly sweet that he worked with animals. you wished baji the best of luck as a veterinarian. you could only imagine the workload he has till he graduates.

you learned a lot about all your newfound friends. it felt warm. really warm. you glanced at mikey a few times and he met your gaze. he smiled contently. it was a look you liked. "you know, you should smile more" "really?" "yeah, it suits you, you know, you're mostly always wearing that pout. you look happy. that's nice" his grin softened into a more sincere smile. "okay. i'll smile more. it won't be too hard though, you'll see it often, cause you make me smile". you chuckle brightly in response, "that's so cheesy!" "shut up.." everything felt so sweet.

you learned about their gang and childhood. mikey reminisced about it in an excited, animated manner, and their eyes lit up. they were all clearly so passionate about it. an air of nostalgia laid heavy, you were never a part of these memories, but in the vivd manner in which they described it, you might as well have been.

after a few drinks, the conversation shifted back to the music centre. "so, you know, you guys barely gave us any details about the thing you're doing! and i'm only now finding out that you guys know each other?" emma whined, "i need to know more, c'mon!" her face was flushed slightly from the alcohol. your mood heightens. you loved talking about it. "kazutora's our bassist and also guitarist, mitsuya does vocals, well, you already know that i do guitar but on the occasion i play drums." kazutora grinned "i'm really excited to finally start playing together, y'know? i don't know if it's sustainable income but, it's fucking fun" "i'll be teaching as well anyways and i'm still getting a degree so i have that going.." you respond. "we rented a studio. we should all practice this weekend, yeah?" mitsuya asks, "sure. sounds great"

"you guys gotta play something for us" baji said. "hell yeah!" kazutora responded enthusiastically, "c'mon, guys, c'mon let's make a toast" "toast to what?" "to.. new adventures and.." mikey glanced at you "to new friendships", chifuyu whooped and the sound of clinking of glasses filled the air.

baji, chifuyu and kazutora booked a cab to their apartment, chifuyu was slumped onto baji and remained fairly incoherent. you hoped that his hangover tomorrow wouldn't be severe. mikey was of a similar state, face flushed and a dazed expression with glossed over eyes. he seemed clingier than usual. hina and takemitchi dropped off mitsuya. the four of you got back in emma's car.

mikey's head lolled to the side, almost, just almost resting on your shoulder, you feel the need to resist the urge to shift slightly closer so his head falls completely on your shoulder. ultimately you didn't need to do anything because he moved anyways. closer than you would've expected. your arms touched and you felt your face heat up.

you figure he wouldn't mind and wrap your arm around his shoulder. he hums contently at the warmth and the comfortable weight. you cant help but smile at the sight.

emma glances at the pair from the rear view mirror and a soft expression falls on her face. it was about time mikey found someone he could be completely and wholly vulnerable with.

'emma'll wake me up when we reach home' you think, as you shut your eyes too, and lean your head on his.

__ tags: @manjirosfairmuse @dollrndo @dancingnewcat @bowloficecubes @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe extra notes: i wish i could've expanded on hina and takemitchi more tbh! might make a game night chapter next.. not 100% sure though. if you guys have any ideas do drop them in the comments!

i know this is supposed to be a mikey x reader fic but i really wanted to expand on the platonic relationships b/n reader and everyone else. i feel like that's something that a lot of x reader fics lack, (totally not that it's a bad thing!! many x reader fics that are isolated to the character n reader are great!! ) but i did want to give my two cents on these relationships and improve my writing!

[otomewithfaye]

Sometimes my mind is random, and now I'm thinking about FWB with Anton (but with a PERFECT ending) // You always hated the fact that Anton thought of you as just a bedmate. But, you can't do anything. You can only hold back your jealousy, he is also often with a girl on his bed. But one day when he was about to leave your bed, you said 'Tonie please, I want a hug, I just want a hug, please. Please hug me for a moment, Tonie' You asked him desperately, feeling like you were a girl who was thirsty for attention.

(I hope you're not sick of my thoughts about Anton😭)

▶FWB!Anton

WC: 697

TW: Slight Smut, Slight Angst, Fluff, FWB Anton, fuck boy Anton, somewhat toxic Anton? Anton doesn’t know what love is at first.

Creators Log: Anonie, I could never be sick of your Anton thoughts, I love them too much, please keep them coming (even if I don’t get to them right away-)

Oh FWB Anton…I’m this close to just making individual Riize FWB headcanons like I did with my Seunghan one. 

Being in a FWB relationship with Anton wouldn’t be as confusing, just painful babes. Like so fucking painful, because literally every girl wants him. He’s super athletic, smart, rich, not to mention how incredibly attractive he is too. 

And he knows this too, and he takes it as an advantage. Why does he do it? Because he enjoys sleeping with random girls and leaving them heartbroken? Or is it because he’s trying to rebel against his parents? Who knows… 

But entering this kind of relationship, when he wants something from you he acts all nice and caring, buying you expensive shit. 

But when he doesn’t want anything, or got what he wanted he pretty much acts like you don’t exist or that you’re of insignificance. 

Your friends are all telling you this and saying you need to drop him, because it’s only causing you harm when you hear or find out about him sleeping with another girl. 

What’s worse is when you bring it up he acts all soft and says you’re the only one for him. But goes right back to what he was doing and refuses to make you two official. 

Getting to your limit when he’s over and about to leave, you just couldn’t help yourself but start crying. Breaking down in front of him just begging him to stay, to just hug you and tell you he loves you. Just something to show that he cares. 

Normally this would never have an effect on him, but there was just something about how pitiful you looked, calling out “Toni” instead of his full name. He wouldn’t know what to do, so he would just be there, patting your back. Not saying a word. 

When he does leave you’d be left heart broken, thinking that he made his answer clear by not saying a word. Not even holding you, just patting your back and leaving. Even being left embarrassed with how you practically threw yourself at him. 

You’d start ignoring him, being too embarrassed and crushed to even be in the same room as him. 

Anton on the other hand was so so so confused, for many reasons too. He was confused because weren’t you just begging him for his attention the other night? Why are you now ignoring his entire existence? And why does he care? Why does he feel so alone now that you’re not following him around, why does he find himself being so bored with other girls. Just not being able to find any enjoyment with them. 

He’d get so jealous too, not knowing why but the sight of you now talking and starting to form feelings for some random dude. What does that guy have that he doesn’t?. 

He would eventually get tired of it, dragging you off somewhere where no one can see you two. Going off but not necessarily yelling, just bombarding you with questions on why the sudden personality switches and why you’re going for that guy when he can provide so much more for you than that other dude ever could. 

You turn now to be confused, maybe even crying and going off that he didn’t like you and asking why he even cared. He would be rendered speechless, also not knowing why he found himself so upset over this. You would smile sadly saying “that’s what I thought”, heading to the door to leave Anton would stop you. Holding your hand and pulling you into a hug. Mumbling that he doesn’t know what got over him, confessing how he felt, that he found himself needing you and that he just couldn’t even as much look at another girl's way. 

You would put two and two together, realizing he did have feelings for you, he just didn’t know that’s what he was feeling. Wrapping your arms around him, you wouldn’t say anything, just enjoying the comfort of being in his arms. 

After that moment I don’t think he would make y’all official just yet, but he would stop his fuck boy ways. And when he finally came to terms that what he’s feeling is indeed that he likes you would be when he makes it official.

[velveetacrackncheese]

I know it's been like forever, but are you still a fan of Viv and her work

Honestly when it comes to her, no. Even if there's some things I've learned to appreciate in some of her more recent stuff (Except Hazbin S1, I thought it was genuinely awful and the more I think about it the more disappointed I truly am with it.) my main gripe is that it seems that Viv still treats people like crap. My opinion of her has continuously waned over the years from someone who was obsessed and having had a parasocial relationship with her and her work, to the point where I felt obligated to defend her for the sake of the "fandom" back then. Pretty wack behavior coming from myself honestly, and like I said I was a prick! I treated naysayers and critics of ZP like garbage, and while there was venom being flung towards me and other fans as well, some of it also being cruel and uncharitable, I can't pretend I didn't contribute to the toxic culture emanating from her fanbase. It's very interesting to see that the more modern incarnation of Viv's fanbase is arguably still just as toxic, but on a bigger scale. People no matter where you go, and regardless of when in time, seems to have a strong opinion of her. Either love her to death or hate her to the point where that becomes its own obsession. Well, unless you've actually had a connection with her, it seems like you're either one of her favorites, or someone who she burnt bridges with.

There's of course the genuine non-drama stuff, like ohhhh fuck dude, she drew some weirdo shit which I could honestly care less about. There's reasons to not like her, and it isn't that. It's not even really her work period, but more so allegations regarding how she's difficult to work with, cruel to certain past associates to an almost comical degree, and is still pretty uncharitable to even her most charitable critics. The stuff with KenDraws kinda was the nail in the coffin for me, transphobia is not going to get a pass from me, sorry! I don't know how true this is in particular, but how The Hunicast was treated after the Hazbin pilot also left me with a pretty real sense of disgust. It's wild seeing a show like Hazbin Hotel flourish through A24 and Amazon, all the while trying its damn hardest to cleanse itself of its indie roots. Apparently donations to the Hunicast was used to fund the pilot, and after the pilot it kinda seemed like Viv just didn't really appreciate how much they contributed to that project. Honestly, I don't think Hazbin would be what it is today without The Hunicast.

That, and of course there being all the dollcreep stuff, the way that the fandom at the time wrongfully demonized dollcreep and took Viv for her word to the T, following what was a highly uncharitable read from fans which led to harassment despite the drama between the two being personal, and that being made into a public concern when it reallllllllllly should not have been. Transphobia also being an abundant issue in this regard. JoJo as a character was created as an extremely petty way to bash Jo and in hindsight, is incredibly revolting, and ohhhhh also transphobic. The Erin Frost situation, in which of course featured Viv devotees to also take her testimony as uncharitable and lies despite having never worked with Viv herself. Employees being paid like... what, $35.00 per second of animation which is crazy. So not only a toxic work environment, that toxicity just festering cuz Viv herself is toxic. Her tendency to seemingly just bully the people she surrounds herself with, hell even getting people blacklisted apparently? I'm sure there's a lot more I can get into in all honesty, and what's being mentioned here is barely scratching the surface! There was a point in time where I had agreements with what were, back then, blogs dedicated to critiquing Zoophobia and in hindsight, yes, there was a lot to rightfully criticize. Lot of stuff in that webcomic was genuinely not great and despite the immature attachments that I had back then, there were points I'd openly conceded to. Which led to Viv blocking me, and that led to me being pretty sad! Honestly thought I'd did something wrong or that I like... "Betrayed" her which is fucking insane. It was something I ruminated on for literal weeks. I look at my older posts on here and it's so fuckin clear that I was not mentally stable, at least to me, and that was reflected in the wild ass shit I was saying. I'm glad I've changed but dear god I was such an asshole, and it's crazy to think that I was some kind of figurehead in the fandom at that time. Nobody should've been looking up to me, cuz holy shit I was a stupid teenager.

Also, generally speaking, this doesn't have much to do with Viv as a person as much as the early fan community surrounding her work that existed from like 2015 into 2018, particularly on tumblr, but I'd developed relationships with other people in the fandom that led to some pretty traumatizing experiences for myself and for others that I knew personally. I won't get into details about that, but the culture for the fandom at the time housed some SERIOUSLY sketchy people, and there were people who were just open and active groomers. Zero accountability for any of that btw, yeah awesome fucking community, guys. "Like and Reblog if you're a true fan." jfc.

So uh, yeah. Naw I can't say I'm much of a fan, and I'm not convinced that she's actually some nice, pleasurable person, who conveniently stumbles into situations where her alleged good nature is CONSTANTLY put into question due to actions that are pretty well documented and accounted for. I've still watched Helluva Boss episodes, although at this point it feels like I'm beating myself because I've progressively grown more disenchanted with it as time has passed on. Despite that, it's still Spindlehorse's best stuff. I say Spindlehorse in particular because while I don't really respect Vivienne, I respect the crew who are the backbone of those episodes. Hazbin has some narrative themes that I'm not particularly fond of, the pacing is a mess, and the character writing is not good. Characters have entire musical numbers dedicated to them despite either serving a very minor role in the story or just being absent for the entirety of the season. I'd go on and list my gripes with ZP, but it feels weird to bash something that is nearly a decade old now. Probably doesn't represent Vivienne's current capacity for craftsmanship, visually speaking, and in regards to the writing; Were I to go back and review what those old critique blogs had to say, I'd probably add onto them instead of being as dismissive as I was.

Also, something I can attest to personally, and you'll have to take me for my word on this, but I used to be a $50 patron to her Patreon. One of the benefits was that you got to be a part of her discord server where she'd chat with fans once a month and I got to be in a few of those vc chats. I recall her being petty even then, and if my memory doesn't fail me, there was a time where she like... called someone's older brother a f*ggot because he insulted Kesha and her general preferences in music lmfao. She genuinely got upset and all teary over that confrontation and ended the call early, and the other people in the vc were tryna comfort her. Looking back that now, feels so.... weird. Shit, I mean charging people so they have the chance to just talk to you, monetizing that feels weird, and kinda gross. Wish I could have my money back for that, ngl. No Bueno.

[lambilegs]

lee harker with a mean-ish girlfriend 🙈🙉🙊

lee with mean!girlfriend/partner headcanons 🎀 (contains: both sfw and nsfw content, reader getting gagged, humiliation kink, both reader and lee domming, spanking, dirty talk, reader receiving fingering and oral, reader is referred to as having a "cunt")

🌷͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘 ֎ 𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙🌷

NOOOOO bc wait... 👀 I've thought of this before too. also this was SOOOO much fun, and so hot to write, I didn't even know how bad I needed to write this till you requested it so thank you so so much 💗

first off -- literally gets turned on when you're rude to people who actually deserve it. like, if you're rude to someone who's behaving in an entitled way in a grocery store, she'll just watch in awe. because while she, too, would stand up for people, she'd never have the nerve, or even natural tendency, to do it with as much sass and attitude as you. so, watching you put people in their place, in a way she never could, is pretty satisfying, and she can't help but take a bit of pride in it.

but. she also finds it hot as fuck. the confidence in which you call the person out, the snarky smile on your face, the harshness your tone takes on... you wield so much power, and it's incredibly hot.

cue ten minutes later -- you're on your back in her backseat while she eats you out, mumbling against your sloppy cunt, "jesus, you looked good."

and speaking of sex, she probably gets into such a subby mood when you get like that, wanting nothing more than to worship you with her mouth, fingers, strap -- you name it. which LMAO you do. sometimes, you're mean with her in the bedroom too, teasing her mercilessly, gently bullying her, making demands left and right. and she's putty to it, holding back moans and willingly laying on her back, ready for you to ride her face or do anything you want to her.

you're incredibly bossy with her. she's usually on the quieter, more observant side, and it contrasts, ironically enough, pretty nicely with how upfront and abrasive you can be LMFAO usually, when you're a bit bossy w her, she'll just quietly sigh and do what you ask IDJSDKJ

but, I def feel like you can't be too mean with her. quiet and allusive as she is, she doesn't like people talking down on her. she gets enough of that at work, she doesn't need it from her own partner too

dude if you stand up for her?? she's either extremely touched by the amount of anger you feel on her behalf, or again, finds it so hot how willingly you throw yourself in defending her, and how your care for her exceeds any sort of filter you may have. either way, she relishes in being taken care of in such a way, especially since she's not used to it

sometimes goes to you to figure out if something someone says is rude bc she can't tell herself, and asks for your opinion on how to respond. though she does take your advice w a grain of salt bc you usually just wanna be rude to anyone who's even slightly mean to her

she's just so awkward and reserved and it makes her the PERFECT target for playfully and gently bullying. you'll grab her jaw and move it side to side, cooing at her, you'll sometimes instigate and taunt her just for the fun of it, you'll tease the shit out of her when she unintentionally does something even slightly embarrassing or silly. it's just your love language tbh LMAO

if you take it too far, she'll give you a sharp look or firm response, and you know to stop. but, usually, she just ignores you or quietly disses you back (she does it so smoothly you sometimes don't even realize it till some time later LMFAO)

loves putting you in your place -- will sometimes bend you over her lap, spanking at your ass and teasingly mumbling, "were you all talk? where's all that snide attitude from before?" if you piss her off before or during sex, she'll edge you for so long, pushing you to submit fully to her before she finally gives you release. she'd sit with her back pressed against the headboard of the bed, your legs spread out over her lap, back flat on the bed, just fingerfucking you with hard, deep strokes, staring at you intently, saying, "you sound so wet. you just want someone to shut you up, don't you?" hmm, what else? totally gags you sometimes with her fingers, strap or your panties while fucking you, just delighting at the way you whimper and moan at having her make you yield to her dominance and forget all the attitude you were giving her before

anyways ummm who wants a full length smut of lee w mean!girlfriend bc I think I need it

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Hello 🎶 it's meeeeee 🎼

Buenas, beautiful lady. I want to request something to youuuu (obvio cause I'm in your inbox 😂)

Can you do something inspired on the new smw photoshoot Pedri did 😩🔥🩷 pretty please! Do what you want, go crazy on me 😀❤️

Señorita, you're always bienvenida in my inbox💜✨ Pedri will make me go crazy😭😭 he's so gorgeous I can't even explain how beautiful that man is, dear lord😭!

Warnings: mentions of sexy times, nothing graphic it's safe for everyone to read, Pedri being a lil confident ass, reader being head over heels for Pedri. This probably doesn't make any sense💀😭 and sorry in advance if it doesn't, it's been a while since I've written something😭

Tease -P.G8

Summary: He said he wasn't feeling confident about the shoot, the results show the opposite.

"C'mon, amor. You'll look great even if you're wearing a trash suit!"

"You say that because you're my girlfriend"

"No, I say that because I'm a woman with two eyes who know how to appreciate beauty and you, mi amor, have lots of it" Pedri rolled his eyes as you shook your head and fixed the collar of the beige suit.

"I suddenly don't want to do this" He sighs "I enjoy being more in a sweatshirt and joggers"

"I know you do and you will be in sweatshirts and joggers once again when this shoot it's done, it'll be quick"

"Not quick enough"

"What will you do when you're getting your wedding suit done?"

"Wait for you to get your wedding dress done so we can marry?" You smile at him.

"Well played" He laughed softly "But let me tell you that I actually enjoy seeing you in suits, it's not often I get to see you like that, you look incredibly handsome and more mature, like a CEO... and it makes me wanna jump all over you" You state wrapping your arms around his neck, a smirk came up to your boyfriend's face and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't need to be in suits for you to do that" You blush and laugh.

"True. You breathe and I'm all crazy for you, González" He laughs pecking your lips a few times.

"C'mon, let's go"

"Thought you didn't wanted to do the photoshoot right away?"

"I want to get home, my girlfriend said she wants to jump all over me, I'm never passing up those chances" He winked at you while he left the room leaving you giggly and running behind him to catch him.

"Pedri, I'll need you to act confident, move around, own the shoot" The photographer said getting ready behind his camera

"I think I can do that"

"¿Qué crees? Venga mi amor, tú puedes. Vamos, con confianza" (You think? C'mon, mi amor, you can. C'mon, confidence)

And with confidence he did it. It was only a few days later when you found yourself screaming all over your house after seeing his latest IG post.

"¿Qué pasa, preciosa? ¿Todo bien? ¿Por qué el grito?" (What's wrong, precious? Is everything okay? Why the scream?)

"¿Eres tonto?" (Are you stupid?)

"¿Disculpa?" (Excuse me?)

"¿Cómo te atreves a subir fotos de ese estilo sin avisarme?" (How dare you upload photos like that without telling me?) You looked at him in disbelief "Don't you think my ovaries will explode after watching this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can we have your tux for our wedding done in this color? You look absolutely gorgeous-ah! oh dear god! your hair, your face, your eyes, your eyebrows... your hands! I never knew your wrist would look so good with a simple watch!"

"Y/N, can you calm down and explain to me what is going on?"

"How do you want me to calm down with you dropping these pictures?" You show your phone screen for the first time to him "I really want to have your babies, right now, Pedro González López"

Reality hit him and he started laughing. You. His girlfriend were fangirling over him.

"We can practice for them"

"How do you look so beautiful every day, every time, every second? Like... You don't get tired of it? Amor, I don't really understand what were you nervous about! I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend, I get to have you, all of you! ¡Dude, buah!" You let go of your phone letting it fall on the carpet still looking at Pedri "You're so pretty, I love you so much"

Pedri was blushing and his giggles were the only thing you were hearing "I love you too" He said wrapping his arms around you

"How can you be so hot and so cute at the same time?" You asked with a smile on "It's not possible"

"Welcome to the club, I have to deal every day with you being cute and sexy at the same time" You kissed his lips.

He was perfect.

"You knew what you were doing, right?" You asked after a bit of silence.

"I mean... I didn't know it would have this effect on you but I definitely need to keep doing photoshoots in suits"

"You little bastard-"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[child-of-helios]

hello. I've a rather stupid question. I've only read the books once, as a kid, and I don't understand why people hate calpyso x leo. whys it so bad? why does everyone seems to hate it on here?

xxx,

eurydice

First of all, this is my first ever ask, I've made it mother :D Secondly, I'd gladly explain! Though please note that it really has been a good while since I've read the books too, so my memory is kinda foggy :] Warnings for: Slight mentions (but not too much) of rape, pedophilia and mental illness (oh boy this is a tough one)

So, I have made a post abt this before, but it was written in a fit of rage so not my proudest moment (but my most popular post, oops). Anyways, I feel that the hate towards Calypso x Leo is because of a few reasons. 1. It simply didn't get enough development to feel worth it imo. Similar to Jason x Piper, I felt like there wasn't enough there to warrant a canon ship. There is also the fact that personally, I thought that their dynamic was more of a familial or that of siblings, which made me uncomfortable. I would've much rather have them be friends. 2. The uncomfortable age gap. It feels very weird because while yes, Calypso was depicted as a teenager, she is thousands upon thousands of years old. The fact that she fell in love with a literal child is incredibly weird. It was weird enough with Percy, but at least they didn't end up dating. With Leo though, she did end up dating him and the age gap feels very odd. Its even weirder knowing she had a relationship with Odysseus, who by that point was a pretty old dude so she was probably very mature and an adult (though she doesn't act like it). 3. Calypso is kinda a rapist. In the Odyssey myth, she forces Odysseus (a married man) to sleep with her. I'm sorry, but I can't support any relationship involving a rapist unless its rapist x prison cell. It makes me uncomfortable because she could very well take advantage of Leo, a mentally ill teenager with self-esteem issues. 4. Her toxic treatment of Leo. Calypso was very pissed when Leo arrived on her island, rightfully so after what she had gone through, but even then her treatment of his was outright cruel, especially compared to that of Percy and Odysseus. She made him sleep outside, exposing him to the elements after he got flung through the air and ended up on her island, which must've caused some damage. Then after they started dating, I still felt uncomfortable reading about the two, because their dynamic just didn't work, and I don't recall her apologizing to him for her treatment of him. 5. Leo's arc was thrown away. I think the worst of all, is how this impacted Leo's character. He should've had an arc where he learnt to love himself, but because of Calypso he didn't. I think the moral was supposed to be: 'even if you're mentally ill or have problems, you still deserve love!' but it came over more as: 'ignore your issues and get all your love from someone else.' Isn't it more important for kids to learn about self-love? And as an extra: what could've been. I think that Leo shouldn't have gone back for Calypso, that that ship shouldn't have happened. I prefer him going back to Echo and them learning about self-love together as buddies (and maybe evolving into more than that). Echo was stuck in an abusive relationship with the Narcissist, so I think it would a good arc for them both. I also think that if you really wanted a romance, Jason x Leo would've been much better. We know that Rick can write good gay romances, we know that Piper turns out to be a lesbian, so why not make Jason and Leo gay? I think it would add much more to the tragedy of Jason's death, but that's for another post (and this one is getting too long already oops). In conclusion, I think Caleo is bad for many reasons, but especially because it didn't have enough time to develop and the dynamic was simply too creepy for me to get invested in. Sorry for the super long post- Have a lovely day :D

[murmiss]

Our love.

Pairing- Simon "Ghost" Riley/reader.

Chapter warning- none, light smut, Still just fluff and tenderness, but next chapter Angst!!!!

Summary- A meeting on New Year's Eve turns to love. A strong, fiery love. But. Suddenly Simon's childhood friend Samantha shows up, and she's not herself. It seemed your relationship was going through an emotional seesaw and it was Samantha who was causing it, because Simon could only belong to her. Not you.

(The ending will be good)

Part1, Part2

Part one.

Wounded by life and many battles, Simon didn't think he'd ever be able to fall in love or get anything more than a quick fuck. Sex was an everyday occurrence, something he could get easily, even with his seemingly unattractive appearance. But real feelings were something out of the ordinary, something he longed for.

The encounter took place in December, when Simon was lonely on a holiday night, lighting a cigarette on the street. He was on his way to get a new bottle of alcohol, and awkwardly wondered about his mates who were celebrating with their families. Price was visiting his brother and his family, Gaz was welcoming the new year with his girlfriend Millie, and Jonny, even more so, with his parents. The image of Soap, dressed in a silly reindeer sweater, his mother, in a white apron, putting food on a plate popped into Simon's mind. Unconsciously he pictured himself at their table, surrounded by family and comfort. Johnny had actually offered to take him to visit for the holidays, but Simon had declined, deciding he didn't want to intrude. Trudging through the slippery road, covered with a thin layer of snow, and skirting the drifts, Simon slowly made his way to the small store nearby. The snow crunched under his boots, and the snowflakes landed on his eyelashes and hairline, melting immediately.

Upon reaching, Simon opens the creaky door and his eyes are immediately blinded by the bright light. Entering the store, Simon immediately heard an emotional argument and with his eyes he searched for the source of the noise. His gaze fell toward the cash register where his acquaintance Danny, the store owner and a young girl were standing.

"How the hell is it you can't sell me a goddamn bottle of shitty alcohol?" -already being slightly tipsy and frustrated you replied. It's New Year's Eve and it's going incredibly shitty. Living in another city, you thought making friends would be easy, but it's not. How do you make conversation? Do you just walk up and say, "Hey, dude? Let's be friends?" But no, it doesn't work that way. Not among adults, that's for sure.

After your mother died, you had to move away just to avoid seeing the face of your 'beloved' father. He was an asshole, but you didn't want to think about it. Life was hard and now, the only thing you honestly burned was a bottle of cheap booze to cheer yourself up. There was a cat at home and an empty fridge, but you didn't care. Your shift had ended just a few hours ago, and you didn't have the energy to not only decorate, but even cook.

"Ma'am, we can't sell to you, the cash register is already closed," Danny insisted firmly. The ghost, knowing it was just laziness, laughed dryly and, with a slight chuckle in his voice said, "Hey,Dan."

The guy behind the counter immediately exhaled and smiled, relaxing away from the disgruntled girl to chat with his acquaintance.

"It's late and you're still at work?" Simon asked dryly, but with a smile. Only the outline of his lips showed through the mask. In retirement, outside of his second self, Simon continued to wear the mask, but over half of his face, and every time people asked, he answered, "Protection from the coronavirus." And people seriously believed his joke.

"Actually, no, I'm closing, but this lady is in my way," Danny replied, defiantly turning around and giving an appraising look to the disheveled girl with the bottle in her hands. Danny was a pretty weird guy, lazy and very strange.

"Hey, I'm actually here and there while you guys are chatting. Sell me a bottle, dude," you exclaimed confusedly, lifting the bottle up and gesturing in desperation, but it was as if you weren't heard, and then you groaned, "Come on! Please! I'll show you my boobs"

Danny thought about it for a second and looked away from the girl again, and then, with a smirk, said, "Oh, girl, you're not impressing anyone with your tits tonight."

"Give me a bottle of whiskey," came Simon's gruff voice, clearly enjoying this strange situation.

"Sure thing, buddy," the russet-haired salesman replied smoothly, grabbing the bottle and punching it through the register.

You immediately shout indignantly : "hey, you're closed!".

To which you get a sharp reply: "Oh, girl, leave the store!"

"I've been coming here for a year, you..."-you don't have time to finish, as the big guy in the mask snatches the bottle from your hands and, grinning, says. "champagne? That's nice, try it too, Dan."

You stare at the man with a raised eyebrow for a couple of seconds, feeling both grateful and wanting to hit him over the head with the bottle. The man, rattling bottles, calls after you: "Let's go, neighbor." And you follow him.

It's cooler outside.

You look at the back of the big guy walking in front of you and pensively follow him, until an epiphany comes to you in a second. You let out a ragged groan, slap your warm gloved hand over your face, and catch up. "It's that what's-his-name... Raleigh. Rily.. Reyli... Riley, that's right, Riley," you think as you remember what his last name is on his mailbox.

"Why not with your family?" - Simon finally asks the question. Honestly, he doesn't know why he got into this adventure. In terms of... He was having fun watching this girl desperate to buy a bottle, and then... He found himself wondering. Simon recognized, though not immediately, his floor neighbor. Her apartment was the far one.

"I don't have anyone," comes the nonchalant reply. The girl stares pensively into the distance before asking back, "you? "

"Same shit."

They walk on and remain silent. The streetlights illuminate the already dark street, and the snow glistens under the bright lantern light. "Maybe..." - They both say in sync, and Simon feels awkward for the first time, muttering: "go on." The girl waits a few seconds and says, "Maybe.... Umm... Celebrate together? In terms of... Well. if you don't feel weird or something."

"Nah, I can't turn down the company of a pretty girl on this lonely night," Simon replies with a dash of flirtation he didn't expect himself.

A silly laugh escapes the girl's lips and Simon is ready to admit that it was the best laugh he's heard before.

It was a little awkward when Simon opened the door. His dog, Riley, immediately rushed to lick his guest and almost dropped the girl, but she laughed again. There seemed to be light coming from her disheveled hair, or it was his fantasy. She walked in awkwardly, but half an hour later they were sitting in his living room, wrapped in blankets and with a modest but cozy table. While Simon quickly cleaned up the mess, the girl ran to her apartment and brought some groceries, quickly chopping a salad for two, and Simon opened the champagne and poured it into glasses. To be honest, he'd never liked fancy and sweet champagne, finding it too feminine, but tonight was an exception. He really sympathized with this girl, who was carelessly and unafraid, sprawled on his couch and lazily stroked his dog Riley.

During the commercial break of the movie, Simon looked at the girl for a long time, and then, laughing, asked: "would you really show him your tits?"

"To whom?" she answered carelessly, but when she realized, she was immediately embarrassed and exclaimed: "God, no! It was a maneuver!" She gave an embarrassed shriek and her cheeks turned purple. She stared at Simon for a few seconds, then threw a small couch cushion at him, "You don't think well of me."

Simon just laughed. She was adorable.

From that vicious day, their relationship began. Living next door, they saw each other almost every day, saying hello in the elevator and looking forward to the next day and the next meeting.

You worked part-time at the Strawberry Nights cafe near your home, combining work with your hobby, drawing in between customers, sitting in a small staff room. Usually your sketchbook was full of simple drawings, crooked sketches of people that you drew out of boredom, maybe even funny caricatures of annoyed boss and colleagues. But it was different now. Instead of empty and idle drawings, your sketchbook was full of sketches of Simon, memorable moments of his appearance. Every tiny feature of his character, of his appearance, all reflected in the drawings. On the first page was a hand, a rough, masculine hand, but with a faint mole on the ring finger-a feature that not everyone would notice on close inspection, but you did. The scar above his left eyebrow, his blue eyes, like two bottomless oceans, his smile, like an aggressive grin but causing you to babble inwardly, his ridiculous laughter, driving you crazy.

Ah...Could it be love?

Sitting at a bar stool, you draw Riley's profile from memory, gently scribbling your pencil across the paper. Suddenly a shadow casts a frightening glare at you, forcing you to abruptly slam your sketchbook shut and look up, mentally hoping it's not your nasty boss and his damn inspections, but unfortunately, or fortunately, you meet your gaze with that bumbling hulk. A nervous laugh escapes your lips, and carelessly, without realizing it, you toss your hair back, carelessly fixing it. When did you ever start worrying about your appearance? Shit...

You bite your lip and mutter, "What do you want, Riley?"

He responds with his gruff and bassy laugh. You're lost for a second, and like a true villain, he speaks up. Too Hot.

-"When did I become Riley? What's the point of being formal, Ms. Barista?"- He's teasing again. He's being subtle.

"I'm on the job, Simon"-smiling playfully, rolling your eyes back and rising from your chair to stand taller, carelessly grabbing a mug from the table and saying in a pretend-sweet voice, "What would you like to order, sir? A mochaccino? Latte? Strawberry milkshake or for the classics?".

Simon froze with a smile on his face, unmasked, which was surprising in his case. Honestly, Riley didn't know what was going on, sitting on the edge of his bed at night, unable to get you out of his head. The smell of you, the sparkle in your eyes, the silly, slightly snorting laugh-- he thought he was going crazy. Why does he follow you? Why does he walk home slowly, to get home at the same time as you, for two minutes?

Is he in love? It hurts him to admit it, not when he's been shown so many times how insignificant a guy and lover he is. No one can accept him, and neither can you. But without listening to his brain, he goes back to the cafe where you work, gets closer to the counter and... Freezes. You paint? It's beautiful. What's beautiful? Your soft image, the careful movement of your hand drawing colored lines, the flutter of your eyelashes, or the drawing itself? He didn't know. The drawing, by the way. Riley lowered his gaze to the sketchbook itself and his heart skipped a few hard beats. Is that him? It can't be. No, definitely not. Or-- It's definitely him.

Before he knows it, you're startled and he can't help but laugh. You should see your eyes at that moment, like a kid caught red-handed.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"- Ghsot blurted out stupidly, instead of offering you a drink. His face was serious and his eyebrows were furrowed.

"Now?"-you replied, glancing at him confusedly, then turning toward the supervisor talking to your coworker. Turning back to the ghost, you whisper, leaning in, "I can't, the supervisor's here... My shift ends at 5:00 p.m."

He nods, and you lean back, slightly taken aback, watching him. He, without the slightest trace of his previous smile, turns around and walks to the window, taking the farthest chair.

"He's going to sit there for three hours and wait for my shift to end?" - you ask awkwardly, embarrassed, but immediately chuckle softly. How silly of him.

All you had to do was pretend to Mr. Aaron that everything was fine and not stare at Simon like a crazy woman. Well. Even if it didn't look pretty - sitting there drooling and staring at a customer - you didn't care anymore. Your shift was over, and you'd even managed to excuse yourself half an hour early. Nervous, you go to the staff room and take a long spin in front of the mirror.

"Damn! Why am I not ready today!" - You sigh nervously, and when you hear a woman giggling, you turn around sharply as well. Your heart is pounding like you've been launched by a rocket into space, but it was only Mindy.

"Damn it, Min!" -you reply with annoyance, patting yourself on the side in embarrassment. "Maybe... Maybe I should tell Simon I'm not feeling well. I'll look like a complete fool," you think at the same time.

"What are you thinking?" - Mindsy asks, innocently flapping her eyes. She was certainly annoying at times, but right now she was the only person you could complain to.

"I got called out of the blue for a date, and... I look like I crawled out of a dumpster. Seriously. I thought it was going to rain tonight, but..... Mud... and.. So I wore the first thing I could get my hands on. " - You make an embarrassed excuse, involuntarily lowering your gaze to the floor from your growing embarrassment. You don't know what to do, and Mindsy giggles like nothing happened. You flare up like a match and just want to respond to her laughter with a wry, "What's so funny?" but before you can say anything, the blonde pulls off her pink top.

"what are you doing on?" you ask confused.

"can't I help my friend?" she replies, staying in her bra and carelessly pulling a handkerchief out of her bag and tying it on herself in a bandeau top style. Honestly, she was so stupid, but when it came to style, she was incredibly resourceful.

"friend"-you whisper under your breath, as if you can't believe you can call her a friend, though now you realize that yes, you can.

"I'm not sure I can"-You hold her top in your hands, looking uncertainly at the blonde woman adjusting her makeup.

"Shut up, hurry up and get changed, and come here I'll do your makeup."-The girl replies, smacking her lips in front of the mirror and admiring her makeup quite a bit.

"You always have your makeup bag with you"-you giggle in response and quickly throw off your work uniform, putting it away carelessly in a drawer. You put on your blue jeans and the pink top Mindsy gave you over the top. Thank goodness you wore the same size clothes.

Honestly, it was weird as hell to wear someone else's clothes, and-- The feel of Mindsy's gentle hands was also suggestive.Unconsciously you smile as the image of you being a star in a movie plays in your head.Min hums a tune, and soon with a smug smile she pulls away.The makeup was lovely, and consisted of light pink blush, unobtrusive glitter on your eyelids, mascara to open up your fawn look, and a light gloss on your lips.

"Come on, run along, pretty girl, your prince on a white horse is waiting for you"-winks Mindsy and you, carelessly grabbing your bag, quickly leave the room, shouting to Min: "see you tomorrow!".

It seemed to Ghost that the hours had gone on impossibly long, he'd had three drinks, and all three times his fallout had fallen on strict espresso. But the Worst part was waiting to get ready. Scenarios played in his head as you were getting ready for the restaurant, you sitting in your lace shirt on the sofa and putting on lip gloss, your legs in lace stockings thrown one over the other and you relaxedly getting ready while he was already standing there in his suit. Simon gets hot, making him shift from foot to foot, sighing early and pulling back the neck of your sweatshirt, trying to get air under your clothes. As you walk out of that hellish staff room, his breath catches. He Nervously grabs your arm and pulls you behind him. You sigh raggedly, taken aback by his reaction.

The gears are turning in the ghost's head as he tries to figure out what you should do. A movie? He doesn't like movie theaters, go to a restaurant? That would tire you out, so only a bar or a walk sounded in his head. Glancing over at you, he immediately marked the Bar aside, because to Simon, pubs were always dirty places, with alcohol, and men who might stare at girls like you.

"There's an alcoholic ice cream store nearby," he blurts out, slowing down so that his gaze is directed at you, and inwardly Riley is very nervous.

"Alcoholic ice cream? I've never had anything like that before"-you giggle in response, and Simon immediately pulls you in. What's the rush? You don't know, but you follow him.

The store was small, but quite spacious. "Definitely for kinky drinkers," you think to yourself.

"There's Champagne and raspberry, tequila and lime, coconut rum, cognac and chocolate," you can't even make up your mind, your stomach rumbles with hunger and you don't have time to make a choice as this crazy man grabs every kind of ice cream for two. This snake smiles, and in a cocky, husky voice says, "Ice cream party? "

"Are you suggesting we get drunk on ice cream?" - You raise one eyebrow, your lips curving into a smile.

"No, I have a bottle of bourbon at home, let's go to my place," Simon carries the ice cream in his hands, careful not to drop any of the cans, and you grab a couple of them, wanting to help yourself steady yourself.

"Damn, you know what I want after a hard day's work, you're a wizard, aren't you?" -you say jokingly, and your eyes dart a little nervously to the last price tag. "Why is this ice cream so expensive?" - you think to yourself, but you raise an eyebrow in surprise when Simon holds out his card like nothing happened and pays for everything. He sure knows how to surprise.

"Where would you like to start?" - Ghost asks, looking into the bag and pulling out a brandy ice cream for himself.

"With raspberries," you follow his movements carefully and pick up a brightly colored box and a small plastic scoop. While Simon fiddles with the packaging, you taste the first spoonful.

"This is fucking delicious! " you mutter and hurriedly send spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into your mouth until your jaw freezes. You let out a ragged groan and giggle awkwardly, and Simon hurries after you, finishing his ice cream.

As you stroll through the dark courtyards and backyards, eating the most delicious ice cream of your life, you don't notice how intoxicated you are, and you find yourself in Riley's familiar apartment. You're sitting on the couch, stretched out in a relaxed pose, the TV is on pause, and Simon is in the kitchen heating up the pizza you just had delivered.

Time passed, and all that could be heard was your lecherous laughter and Riley's periodic barking. The bottle of bourbon disappeared in a matter of hours, as did all the ice cream and pizza.

"I feel like a balloon, Si" you laugh, clutching your stomach and gasping. The asshole paws at you like a cat, smirking through his teeth and whispering almost in your ear: "You should know how I feel when I have a hot girl like that around me."

"I'm a hot dog," you laugh again, then fall silent. You are so drunk. You say, "You're such an asshole," in a low, almost without hesitation, voice. You stare at his lips. Everything is happening slowly and yet so fast at the same time. His rough hands lift you easily off the couch and carry you confidently, even impatiently, straight to his hideout, dropping you carelessly onto the bed. Your hair spreads across the pillows and you let out a ragged groan, "Hey!" But no sooner do you resent it than he kisses you. Like a hungry dog. His hands shake and he piles on top of you, almost crushing you with his weight. He pulls away. You smile softly and playfully say, "Hey, you're heavy." He hesitates, but then you say, "Come here, damn it." You open your arms and he immediately snuggles up to you, kissing your face. You giggle in response, looking up at him with half-closed eyes. He pulls away, assumes a sitting position, and nervously throws off his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. With rough hands covered in tattoos and scars, he carelessly grabs you by the top of your head.

"Stop!" - you squeaked, but not before he ripped the fabric with ease. Holy shit, it was Mindsy's top. But his action was so hot. You bite your lip, thinking to yourself that you'll buy her a new one. It's a little awkward, but you'll give her some kind of certificate and she won't be offended.

"Oh, God," you plead, arching your spine. Simon, like an insatiable, hungry dog, covers your body with kisses.

His caresses, rough and tender, every part of your body is art to him, your skin glistens, and in his eyes you are no less than Aphrodite.

Simon feels a slight shame, he feels like he is spoiling you with his twisted mind, his dirty hands touching your pure body and his lips corrupting your mind. But he can't stop, trying to be as careful as possible.

"Too big, Si," you whisper nervously, and he catches up immediately, stroking you gently through your hair, sliding his hands smoothly over your stomach, stroking you just as gently, as if you could vaporize at any moment.

"It's okay, baby, I got you," he whispers back.

Honestly, he didn't want to wake up this morning. Sleeping next to your soft and so beloved body, your natural gentle scent, the comfort that surrounded him. Next to you, he didn't remember the traumas of childhood and violent fights.

He really fucking loves you.

(The second part is in progress, but your reaction is very important to me. Write comments, put reactions so that I understand that you really like it. The most interesting part of this story is ahead.)

[ruthwritesalot]

I finally watched Wicked and I have thoughts (I haven't read anyone else's takes because I didn't want to spoil myself so these are purely my own thoughts right after seeing the movie).

In the beginning, when Glinda and Elphaba were singing about how much they hated each other, I was sure there was gonna be enough queerbaiting for everyone on Tumblr to be rightfully mad. I usually don't end up shipping the queer couple everyone is, I think a lot of the time I feel like relationships in shows seem forced in general? But I immediately thought about it here. I mean, 'What is this feeling I felt the moment I laid eyes on you'? Then, the guy showed up, and I actually thought he was pretty sweet. He treated Elphaba normally right from the start, and he didn't seem to know how ean Glinda was yet when he got with her (the scene during the dance when he says it's not your fault). And then, Glinda's 'redemption arc' was entirely unsatisfactory (which I know was the point, but these are my thoughts in the middle of the movie and I knew very little about the plot). I know Glinda was never supposed to actually be good, but I was still frustrated by how easily Elphaba forgave her and called her her best friend. I guess I can understand that when you have no friends your entire life, your standards can be low (I'm speaking from experience). Still, I wish she's given a little more pushback during the makeover scene. None of that really matters, though, because Elphaba chose being an anti-fascist over going along with Glinda's bullshit (even though there I was also kind of annoyed by how amicably they seemed to part ways, Elfaba still calling Glinda her friend?) Anyway, I guess what I'm getting at is that though I'd also like it if Elphaba simply didn't have a love interest, I like the dudebro more than Elphaba and Glinda. I don't know if that's unpopular, I haven't read any takes yet. I think I'd like it most if he was her knew best friend. A lot of the time dudes that are supposed to be incredible in movies are actually pretty mediore, but he helped her with the animal and went after her.

The movie portrayed bullying so much more accurately than most movies. I don't mean the musical scenes where everyone was disgusted by her, I mean Glinda's subtle things. The hat, constantly saying condescending things packaged in niceness, etc.

I'm not sure where I stand on her sister. I don't know if her being embarassed by Elphaba's presence in the beginning (before she did the magic, when thet were talking to the teacher) was because she was embarassed of her older sister babysitting her or Elphaba being green. I do hope she and Elphaba find each other again.

A lot of the scenes genuinely fucked me up, they were so accurate to the rise of fascism we're seeing right now. I cried during so many of the creature's scenes, and during the painful transformation of the monkey. I don't want to speak a lot on how welm the racism allegory was done (I do always wonder about the fact that in movie's like this, the racism is only about the literal color of her skin. As the only green person, there's not any culture or other things that minorities are also opressed for in the real world. The animals had more of that, though. I think I'll read more about how people felt about that, because as a white person I obviously can't say if it spone to my experience or not.)

A lot of the time Ariana Grande was singing so high I had trouble understanding the words. To be fair, the theater I was watching it at had german subtitles and watching in one language and reading in another is very confusing when you're fluent in both

[ravenbloodshot]

I really wanted to talk about Lee Dong Wook because that last anon made me want to check out your readings on him again and your readings always make me see things from different angles and be able to pick things up that I missed last time, since they're also full of info and super long (you can never really understand the nuance of an entire tarot reading in one sitting imo). Anyway, it ended being long because idk lol I just love talking about peoples expressions and psychology! You're such a brilliant reader, I'm absolutely in love with you, please marry me and forget the Welsh dude LMAO. Also I'm British, welsh people can be very modest. Welsh people in general have been quite warm people (as much as I'm aware). The Welsh tend to contrast the rather curt attitudes the general English public like to exhibit. English people are like icy climes (energy not climate) and the Welsh more sunnier climes. In the UK we also aren't as conceited (about looks at least) despite what people think, we're sarcastic and really fucking elitist but it's generally not a good look to walk around being entitled, despite our condescending nature (contradictory I know!). The brits are snobs, so you guessed it... they don't like snobs 😂 You will also not get special treatment and I think brits tend to spare their compliments, I don't hear many compliments around me but when I get online or I go to other countries it's laid on thick. It's generally not seen as an achievement (I say this lightly, probably because most brits are average or something idk I could be wrong) to be good-looking. We have a very "I'll humble you mate" quality and people generally don't like dicks, p's and q's are of the utmost importance. People will think you're snooty and they will stop at nothing to let you know! I've seen (it's not an attack just an observation) that Americans can be cocky if they're good looking lol almost like it's a prerequisite, as if your looks don't speak for themselves your attitude has to show it? It's almost like living to tell the tale of seeing a humble attractive Korean... like where are they? 💀 That's why Eun Woo's energy throws me off sometimes he knows he's good looking (he's no1 in Korea) but he's somehow retained some sort of incorrupt self-esteem, I'm shocked because Korean celebs and the general public (because of excess lookism in Korea, good looking individuals can be incredibly conceited as fuck, my friend gets humbled a lot, though she's pretty to me, apparently she tells me she's average, the beauty standards however are insurmountable and they recommended plastic surgery for her over the summer and guess what? She works in biometry... INSANE, not even a model)? I heard he's genuinely a pleasant person and quite warm. Have you been able to read on him again or is he still "blocking"? The dudes just entered his Saturn return and he has a stellium in Aries which means a lot of shit will come to the surface. He might be better to pick up now. I hope he makes it because the thing damn near took me out. 😭 I'll put my assumption about LDW in another ask because I got carried away explaining the Welsh thing lol 😂❤️

Thanks so much, I put a lot of effort into my readings so I really appreciate that you enjoy them 🙏

I remember hearing that the English were more standoffish and a little snobby. My Welsh guy seems to be the complete opposite of that( friendly, shy, and just a hot cutie). I do think we Americans value beauty and confidence (even better if you mix that in with some charisma). Can't speak for all of us, but growing up, we're taught to be more outspoken, confident, and get ahead with what you have (chase the American dream or whatnot). I guess we view beauty as one of those things that gives you an advantage, and if you have it, best to be proud of it.

I do understand the English way as well, to be humble and have more of a silent esteem.

Now, with Cha Eunwoo, I mentioned before how he said he grew up with a stricter mom who didn't compliment him growing up so he wouldn't become conceited. And I think that plays apart in how he responds to ppl being charmed/wowed by his looks. It doesn't seem like compliments about his appearance phase him very much (could be that he's just used to it). I've heard other tarot readers say that he finds ppl that aren't affected by his looks attractive. Likely, his aries placements play a part in this, but I also see his childhood being a reason why he might desire for the attention of those that don't readily fall for him or like him. Overall, I think he's an interesting dude, not a bad guy but interesting. I'll try again some time to do a red and green flags reading on him

[variousqueerthings]

omg dude (gn) you got into due south? I've followed you for a long time bc mash, I love it when people I know from other fandoms get into my most beloved stuff <3 check out @ds30below btw if you're interested, it's an anniversary fest I run with a lof of fun stuff etc etc! and have funnnnn it's such a great show!

helloooooooo

yes, a bunch of mutuals have been going wild over it for a hot sec and it was Time!

I'm on episode 3 (not counting the pilot) and I have a lot of initial Thoughts to bring over from the discord onto this illustrious site, so i will use this ask as An Excuse:

Frasier is really introduced as an Archetype of masculinity, which is almost immediately subverted by his being completely without machismo -- his machismo is so in the negative that he goes around and becomes this Ideal of masculinity instead

the fact that his ethos is kindness, but it's not necessarily guileless. it is selfless in that he's not necessarily expecting to get returns on it all the time, but it's also -- to him -- often truly the most effective means to an end: if you're kind to others, people will often become kinder. this can be useful in the shortterm (if you give this kid a nice sandwich and don't threaten him with jail time and help him out a bit, he'll try to help with a case...) and in the longterm (this kid will stay in school and have a better future ahead of him, hopefully)

(i will get to ray btw, need to just get all the frasier thoughts out first)

frasier really embodies autistic swag. he takes things incredibly literally, he follows scripts (in this case, The Mountie Script, and also within that some kinda Code Of Gallantry), he's an incredible people-reader of the "autistic savant" type arguably (except there's more to him so the savant trope doesn't quite hold, which is good), his relationship with his dog Diefenbaker, the fact that although he is nigh-effortlessly kind of charming (because he's clark kent vibes!!! he's charming in a way as if he stepped out of a novel set 100 years ago in which kissing women's hands was the norm) he doesn't really make close friendships easily, because there's an Otherness to him that keeps him at a distance to others (except ray. WE WILL GET TO RAY STAY TUNED)

speaking of Distance, a lot of the aroaceness i've read into him so far (and we're literally only three episodes in!!!) really does feel like his autism is triggered by come-ons in the "this is not in my script!" kind of way. his charm is tripped up by the obvious step of "charming man is charming, I will shoot my shot," it's happened several times and every time he tries to extricate himself in the most awkward way possible. can't go on a date, you see. i have.. a dog. and no phone. um. ok. bye.

lot of thoughts on his hero-worship of his absent father and how much of his script comes from wanting to make his father proud

frasier also tastes things a lot of the time and ray thinks it's gross and i think that's something too. the doctor (doctor who) autism coded

OKAY TIME FOR RAY

he reminds me. of gonzo. he has the same transmasc swag. as gonzo. his shirts. his ties. that fuckn. OVERSIZED SO OVERSIZED MASSIVE STUPID JACKET. he's transmasc swag/fail coded in the same way as gonzo. he is gonzo

ray spends so much time in the beginning admonishing frasier for his consistent kindness to others, and the thing is. The Thing Is. he met frasier and (barring the immediate impression) decided to nearly immediately invite him to a massive family dinner. then he saved him from a bomb and got himself hospitalised. then he followed him to canada to help him. and that's only in the pilot! ray is so kind to frasier constantly. he's such an abrasive man to pretty much everyone except to frasier from day one

when frasier asked him to get a special pass for his wolf and at the end of the episode he did, and frasier was like: "i only asked you once and you got it 🥺" "of course i did, you asked me for it 😍"

just. nigh. constantly. kind. to. him. currently frasier's in hospital because he got stabbed and we had ray running to see him, forcing his way into his room, comforting him, sir you make fun of the way all the girls fall at his feet (and how frasier never notices) I think you are one of the girls!

MY MAN GOT HIM FLOWERS WHILE HE WAS IN HOSPITAL JUST BECAUSE??????? SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (he also makes him take aspirin, he's giving real caretaker in this episode)

so far we know less about ray than about frasier, but im glad the show has him be mouthy, sarcastic, pessimistic, but he's not cruel or callous -- arguably he wants frasier in his life in order to challenge him on his cynical worldview, he's nourished and inspired by frasier's approach towards the world as much as everyone else

misc: I really like that the world being presented isn't necessarily kind, but the main characters (ray learning to be softer via frasier) are kind as a response. it's got some Coolness Factor Shorthand stuff going on ofc, but it is fundamentally a story about facing a relatively realistic world with kindness in order to make it better

I'm sad eric schweig was only in the pilot but the main thrust of the show does take place in chicago i guuuuuuuesss. his role in that pilot was great though, a lot of interesting stuff about taking away frasier's rose-coloured lens of the world, and especially canada, but he also gets what's his at the end, so he's not just there to "offer advice" (although there is a bit of that trope for sure, especially as he doesn't seem to have a name). great character, if I write fic where they go to canada he's definitely gonna be in there!

me and @gjdraws were talking about how ray clearly likes spoiling frasier -- he's the one with the money, he gets him the wolf licence, brings him flowers in hospital, carries aspirin for him.... I'm just saying we were robbed of a "ray takes frasier shopping and there's a montage" bit, considering how frasier only has two fuckn outfits in the first few episodes. who took him shopping??? there's no way he went on his own steam. that was ray all the way! private runway show