#and june is so real for slow mornings!

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

Eddie warned Robin that a game of never have I ever was a bad idea, and you should know better than to go snooping where you don’t belong.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking (hey it’s a summer time barbecue in the midwest), you thought there was a lot tension the last chapter? baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet. jealousy, spicy things are revealed about all of them during a drinking game.

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

One entire week without even so much of a glimpse of that permanently messy head of hair, and god, you hated how much it bothered you. Ears perking up every time you’d catch the cadence of his voice through the receiver of Robin’s cordless phone the few times he called her to check in. Like an unwanted guest who wasn’t taking the hint, his broad shoulders and full pink lips that somehow always look like they need to be kissed haunt your unsuspecting dreams at night. 

You hate it, you hate him, and you try not to spiral about why it feels like the opposite.

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning. 

“What?” You snap, tearing your eyes from the slow pour of the coffee maker in front of you, grouchy and wound up from a dream about his big hands pulling your legs apart so perfect white teeth could nip at the inside of your thighs.

“Steve, you know that guy you told me you’d try and be nice to. The one who’s fixing your car?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she scoops up another bite, “We’re going to his house.”

Of course.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is.

“Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

“I’m keeping you hostage?!” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, turning your back to finally pour yourself the cup of coffee you’ve waited so patiently for. “He’s the best friend stealer.”

“I’m not going to lie, I think I like you two fighting over me,” she laughs, looking a little too smug for your liking as she brings her empty bowl to the sink, Garfield slippers scuffling across the tile, too lazy to pick up her feet from the floor.

“Yeah, 'cause you’re sick.” A real smile curls up into your cup, inhaling the rich scent into your nose. “What are your plans to torture me with his presence this time?” 

Robin narrows her stare at you in a silent warning, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, orange cat covered feet dangling freely as you meet her gaze with softened eyes in a silent apology.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

Choking on your coffee, you sputter your sip back into your mug, turning her freckled face sour.

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you know you’re skating on thin ice, but all the built up tension that tightens your muscles, and buzzes incessantly at your fingertips makes everything feel impossible to control.

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.” 

“That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -”

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.”

The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

“I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.”

Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

She holds your stare until she can tell you actually mean it, melting glaciers with a heavy sigh. 

“It’s fine, I get it.” 

Her words come out soft, just like the lines that smooth on her face.

“I know this is weird and like totally against friend code or whatever, but I think that just goes to show how much he must mean to me or even a testament to how much he’s changed if I’m even asking you to just try and do this. Just try, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” you fluster, doing your best to reassure her in a shaky voice, “I just slept badly and had a really weird dream. It just threw me off a little. I’m being so awful and I’m sorry.” 

Flashes of the way his hands gripped your hips and the dirty things he whispered in your ear has your palms start to sweat, making you loosen your grip on her arm before she can notice. 

Robin searches your face for the reassurance that she needs before a small smile finally tugs at the corners of her lips.“This is why you’re my best friend.” She pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Only if you tell him that.” 

Snaking your arms around her waist, you let out a shaky laugh, silently preparing to see the man who hasn’t left the crevices of your mind since you stepped foot back in Hawkins.

———

It feels like you’re back in high school the way you can’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror, the nerves still feel the same.

Your gaze wanders up and down your reflection, turning from side to side, overly critical eyes take in your curves that are on display a little more than normal and you wonder if Robin will notice. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, better yet you wonder if Robin will notice and have something to say about it. 

“You’re certainly spending a lot of time on an outfit.” Your best friend whistles low as she leans against the open bedroom door confirming your fears with a cross of her arms.

“Just trying to remember what I brought is all.” You don’t engage with the amusement that hides in her tone, smoothing down the short black skirt that flares over the tops of your thighs, before adjusting the straps on your matching tank top.

“Riiiight,” she snorts, earning the kind of glare that has her raising her hands in defense before a shit-eating grin cracks wide across her face. “I’m going to need you to hurry up, though. Do I need to remind you that we’re walking?”

“I’m done!” You huff, sock covered feet digging into her cream carpet as you make your way toward her, “I just need to put on my shoes.”

“You’ve got twenty secon-” she agonizes before three hard knocks on her front door cut her off. Her cheshire smile falters as she turns confused.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get to finish that sentence,” you warn in a harsh whisper, grabbing your Converse that had been haphazardly kicked off earlier in the corner. 

Robin puts a ringed finger to her lips, like the possibility of a kidnapper being on the other side is extremely probable, and it’s her turn to glare when you roll your eyes at her dramatics. Following her out to the living room, you plop down on the couch, watching her slowly creep to the front door. Both her hands find the blue painted wood pushing up on the toes of her Reeboks to look out the peephole.

“Steve?!” 

The name makes your stomach flip, a shaky breath pushing its way through watermelon flavored lips because you thought you had more time than this. Keeping a poker face, you take your time tying your laces as she swings the door open. Head down, your eyes keep their focus on how the dirty white strings move between your fingers. 

You’re not ready to look at him. Not yet.

“After taking you to school at 7am every day after I graduated, you really thought I was going to let you walk?” The smile in his voice is evident, a fond memory you’re not a part of but you can still feel the warmth inside it by the way he speaks. 

“Thank god,” she starts, the insinuation of the words that are going to follow making your eyes snap up, narrowed and shooting daggers at your best friend, catching Steve’s attention in the process. 

“We were going to be late.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his gaze claiming yours and holding it against your will, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his full lips and suddenly it’s so much warmer in her living room than it was two seconds ago. “Why’s that?”

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

“She’s just being dramatic,” you grumble, finally tearing your eyes from the dark moss that covers the chocolate inside his, doing your best to ignore the heat of them wandering the bare skin of your legs as you finish tying your shoes.

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!” 

This is the moment that you decide you’re going to kill Robin in her sleep tonight.

“Well, I’m ready so you both can stop being annoying now.” Standing, you tug down the bottom of your skirt that suddenly feels even shorter with his full attention on you like this.

“Wait, why am I annoying? I just got here.” Steve argues when your words finally sink in, snapping him out of his daze, catching the keys in his palm. 

“You’re always annoying, Harrington,” you sigh, hoping your deflections are working, but the small smile that never leaves his lips tells you it’s not.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls out like it’s something you would have argued over. Your shoulder brushes with his as you push your way out the door, sending sparks to the tips of your fingers and making your hair stand on end. Steve and the summer heat warm your skin. 

“It’s all yours,” you concede with ease, ignoring the butterfly wings that wreak havoc in your rib cage when the spice of his cologne makes its way into your nose.

It was going to be a night.

Steve keeps the windows rolled down, the muggy air making your bare thighs stick together and to the hot leather of his backseat. It drowns out the music as he speeds down the back roads, making the conversation between him and Robin upfront almost inaudible.

You don’t worry about what they might be saying, not even when they both start gesturing wildly with their hands. Taking advantage of the time left alone, you put all of your focus into preparing yourself for the next few hours, doing your best to push the lingering thoughts of your dream deep down to a place that no one can find. A task that proves to be much harder while avoiding his gaze that dares you to meet it in the rear view mirror the entire way. 

The memories you have of the back of his car don’t help either.

Pulling into Forest Hills trailer park, you’re surprised at the facelift they finally gave it after all these years. Lush green grass grows where the yellow and brown shrub used to be, and a wooden gazebo that looks like it’s missing a finishing coat stands tall, replacing the picnic table where you and the metal head used to smoke. Even the gravel that paves the road looks new and gray, not the dirt brown mud that it used to be. 

It’s still a struggle to wrap your head around the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the former king of Hawkin’s and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson not only work together, but live together too. You would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you this five years ago. 

The BMW’s tires crunch loudly against the rocks as Steve pulls into the driveway of a hunter green trailer. It sits in the back of the park, almost touching the edge of the woods behind it. A faded white line running along the length that matches the metal railing of their front entrance and the overhang that covers it. The paint peels from parts of the metal in the heat, revealing spots of the gray hidden underneath. A worn in deep maroon couch sits on the porch just like the dirty brown one at Wayne’s trailer, and you already know Eddie spends his mornings there. You internally groan when you catch yourself wondering if Steve does too.

“Home sweet home,” he hums, cutting the engine off and pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You dare to meet his eyes for the first time since you left the apartment when Robin jumps out of the front seat, and you immediately regret it. He smiles wide, finally catching your attention, those perfect white teeth baring themselves at you as he pulls off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty bed head. The long strand he’s always at battle with falls through the opening in the back when he puts it on again, because, of course it does.

“Good to see you finally slumming it with the rest of us, King Steve,” you snort, pulling on the handle to let yourself out, ending any chance of conversation.

If it wasn’t for your Eddie barreling out of the front door to greet you and Robin with a big dimpled grin and a freshly rolled joint, you would’ve thought a little harder about the way Steve winced at the nickname.

The Munson/Harrington Bachelor pad anomaly isn’t exactly what you expected it to be, but even then you weren’t entirely sure what that was. It’s cozy just like how Wayne’s used to be but where there’s hand me downs that have been through the short line of Munson men’s hands, there’s an equal amount of obviously perfectly well kept new. Like the shiny big TV in the center of their living room, and the well-loved lazy boy in front of it, that still had cigarette burns from its previous owner, next to the rich tan leather couch right by it.

It smells like it has just been cleaned, a sanitizing lilac still lingering in the air, trying its best to cover the smell of all grease stained clothing in their hampers and the smoke from joints like the one Eddie’s about to put out in an ashtray full of ones just like it.

He sits at the head of the table with a lopsided grin that pushes up the apples of his cheeks and reveals the deep dimples in the center of them. Droopy lids frame his bloodshot eyes that meet your own. Orange and pinks paint the darkening sky through the sliding glass door behind him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Eddie chuckles with a fond glint in big brown eyes leaning back in his chair that squeaks under the redistribution of his weight.

“Back by popular demand,” you smirk, pointing at Robin, who sits just on the other side of the table, glassy eyed with an unwavering smile. 

You try to ignore how the empty chair next to her bothers you, or they way your eyes keep looking toward the kitchen through the small opening of their little island, giving you the perfect view of Steve prepping dinner. His thick eyebrows are furrowed as he digs through spice racks and drawers, front teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip deep in thought.

“I think this calls for a fire,” Eddie announces loudly, bringing you back to the conversation with a slap of his palms on the wood of the table and the kind of smirk that tells you that you’ve been caught.

“We told Janice next door weekends only after last time,” Steve’s voice startles you, making his presence known, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s Thursday. Practically the weekend. Besides it’s a special occasion, look who’s here Stevie boy.” Something in Eddie’s tone makes Steve’s eyes narrow in a silent threat that only makes the metal heads' lips twist up into something more devilish. 

“You have to put it out before bed then, I’m not dealing with it like last time.” Steve accepts defeat quicker than anticipated, “And if she calls or comes over to complain at all, that's all on you too.”

”Deal,” Eddie agrees with five fingers across his heart, the silver of his rings catching in the low light of their trailer.“I think she’s got a crush on me anyway.”

“She’s married,” Steve dead pans with a deep sigh, taking his hat off to run another hand through his hair and you hate the way it has your thighs meeting under the table. “Who’s helping me with dinner then?”

He knows better than to look at you, so his gaze falls onto his roommate and best friend.

”Don’t look at me!” Robin argues, raising her right hand to show off the faded scar on her palm. “Last time I tried to help, I had to get stitches, remember?”

”The fire’s a full time job I’m afraid,” Eddie shrugs, standing up. Not missing a beat, they both look at each other like they're in on some secret that you and Steve aren’t apart of before their eyes land on you.

”You know I’m not a good cook,” you whine, refusing to meet the heat of Steve’s stare that burns against the side of your face.

”I’m sure Steve’s more than willing to help teach you, princess.” Eddie grins, and it makes you want to slap the dimples clean off his face.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I can do it by myself,” Steve interjects with a sigh before you have a chance to respond with something that he knows will just egg the metal head on and get his ego even more bruised.

He’s not expecting the way your eyes snap to his, or the way they narrow with something fiery deep inside them.

”We’re grown adults, Steve. I think I can handle helping you cut some vegetables or whatever it is you need me to do.” Standing up with a shove of your chair, he doesn’t even attempt to argue about how that’s the exact opposite of what you just said.

”There we go! Problem solved.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous, and so is the wink he throws at his roommate before opening the sliding glass door, ushering Robin out and leaving you both alone.

The tension inside the kitchen hangs thicker in the air than the humidity outside weighing down your shoulders, making the words stick in the back of your throat as you try to navigate the close proximity to Steve. Neither one of you is sure of what to say first, and the sound of Eddie and Robin laughing outside filling the silence between you somehow makes it worse. 

The weed twists the knots in your stomach tighter, and the cedar that always seems to linger whenever he’s around turns suffocating without an escape. You lean against the sink across from him while he digs through the icebox in the fridge. Shoulder blades moving with the motions of his wrist, plastic crinkling loudly every time he moves a bag out of the way. Muttering to himself, you watch goosebumps rise on his tan skin from the cool air, muscles twitching from the shock.

This was a mistake. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tear your eyes away in hopes it will stop the dull ache between your legs from getting worse when you’re brought back to the way those same arms caged you in while his hips pushed you deeper into the mattress in your dreams last night. Looking out the small window at the beginning flames of the bonfire, a shaky breath pushes past your glossed lips, and you wipe your palms on your skirt before turning around to wash your hands.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

Cutting the water, you shake your hands in the sink before tearing off a paper towel from the roll next to you. Working up enough courage to finally turn around to look at him, you finish drying your hands with a softer expression.

”No, I can help.” 

He holds your stare, silently giving you another out while his fingers make quick work of unwrapping a head of lettuce, an onion, and a few peppers from their plastic confines. No matter how much you want to look away, you don’t, standing firm in your choice despite everything inside of you screaming to run away, and it’s enough for him to nod his head. The slight twitch of his lips while he rolls the bags in his hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I just need you to cut the onion into thin slices for the burgers, and same with the jalapeños.” He instructs, turning his back to you to throw away the wrappings. 

The sudden movement has the deep cut sleeves of his shirt fluttering open, giving you a glimpse of the thick patch of hair on his chest, and how it tapers off and down past his belly button. Your thighs find each other again, and you look up to the ceiling silently, trying to regain all the strength you thought you’d just found. 

“And the lettuce - uhh, are you okay?” Steve’s confusion makes all the blood in your body rush to the apples of your cheeks as you try to hide your internal struggle with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Never been better. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you ramble, brushing past him to the station he’s set up for you.

“…Right,” he starts with a pause before choosing to leave it alone, “I just need you to kind of rip the lettuce up, you can cut it if you want but I think bigger pieces would be better.”

You aren’t expecting his voice to come from right behind you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck. Your own goosebumps rise, dotting across exposed skin and you hope he doesn’t notice but the way he lingers in your space for a little longer despite the nod of your head makes you think otherwise. The spice of his cologne grows faint along with his footsteps against the tile floor, finding a home on the other side of the kitchen, busying himself with what he had started before.

Eddie turns on the radio, easing some of the tension from your muscles, and relaxing your shoulders as you get a good grip on the handle of the knife.

You could do this, easy. 

You really start to believe it too when you cut all the jalapeños, even humming along to an old Judas Priest song that you and Eddie used to blast in his van after school. Peeling the onion, you pretend that you don’t see the reflection of Steve staring at you from the glass of the microwave as you sway your hips and bop your head to the beat.

“So, New York huh?” He finally breaks, and your eyes flutter to the reflection to see him putting away all the spices he’d pulled out while you were smoking. “You likin’ it?”

Your movements freeze for a second, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth with all the things you’ve dreamed of saying to him. Years of coming up with all the ways you’d tell him how much better you were without him. A recurring fantasy of a ten year reunion where you’d show up with your famous screenwriter husband you’d met on the Subway, turning your nose at him and whatever Hawkin’s girl he’d managed to knock up. But instead, the universe has you here five years too early, and Steve isn’t the same guy you’d left even if you don’t quite trust it yet.

Picking up the knife again, you roll your shoulders with a quiet breath before cutting into the onion once more as you search for the words to answer.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s big and it can be a little scary sometimes but I can be myself there,” it comes out a little quieter than intended but you still twist your hips to meet his gaze from across the kitchen where he stands with crossed arms giving you his full attention. “No one really cares what you do.”

“Who are you trying to be out there?” He asks like he has no idea what small talk is, the greens in his eyes shimmering against the last bit of sunlight that shines on his face.

“Someone stronger than who I was in high school,” you whisper, turning back around to focus on the task at hand and not your ex trying to dig into the depths of your soul while you cut onions.

“You were always the strongest person I knew,” he counters, and you can practically hear the shrug that you know follows his words.

”You certainly liked to test it.” 

It comes out before you can bite your tongue, your knife slicing right into the center of the onion and hitting the cutting board roughly, adding dramatic effect.

”Ouch,” he hums with a small laugh, silverware clanking against the metal of the sink behind you as he finishes cleaning up his mess, “I guess I deserved that one.”

“Steve.” You stop cutting, dropping the knife to look at him, unintentionally swiping your eye in the process, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Rob- oh fuck!”

The burning in your right eye becomes unbearable, the tears spilling freely down your cheek blurring your vision with a harsh sting.

”Oh, oh no. Did you touch your eye?!” Steve sounds panicked, sneakers scuffling against the tile as he hurries to grab a washcloth from the drawer. 

“It was an accident!” You whine, closing your eyes as tight as you can, willing the burning tears to stop, the sound of water running from the sink filling your ears, “God it hurts so bad, Steve.”

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

The coolness of the rag provides instant relief when he presses it gently to your eye. Taking a deep breath, you feel the warmth of his palm rub up and down your arm soothing your irritated nerves more. The sting doesn’t fully go away, but it subsides enough for the tears to slow down as he applies a little more pressure before removing it to wet it again. Blinking past the burning, you finally realize just how close you are to him now. 

Chests practically touching, you can see the beginnings of stubble lining his jaw despite being able to tell that he shaved today. The vampire bites on his neck that used to be your favorite to kiss taunt you for what feels like the millionth time this week. With cedar and musk filling your lungs, it feels impossible to breathe.

He cuts off the water, turning towards you again, and you aren’t prepared for the depth in his eyes meeting yours from this distance. They’re soft when they look at you, the chestnut inside them warming gold as you stare back at him a little dazed. Calloused fingertips stop their path up your arm to gently grab your chin, tilting your face up to his so he can get a better look at the damage. He’s sweet with the way moves your head around, the pad of his thumb smoothing the skin under your irritated eye.

”I think you’ll be okay, I don’t see any seeds or anything trapped inside,” he whispers, thumb never stopping its movements while his gaze flicks down to your lips that pout on their own, something electric charging in the air.

The sliding glass door opens behind him before you can answer, Robin and Eddie making their presence known in a loud burst of energy. Snatching the wet rag from his hand, you’re quick to put distance between you. Placing the cool cloth against your face, you make your way out of the kitchen before anyone can ask you anything about what happened. Muttering a “thanks Steve '' on your way to assess just how ruined your makeup is in the bathroom. 

Your heart pounds in your ears feeling the ghost of his touch everywhere, chest tightening because your body won’t stop screaming for more.

You stay in the bathroom long enough for the burning to subside, mumbling words that resemble some kind of pep talk while scrubbing your hands. Fingers that still shake with nerves fix your smudged mascara, listening for the moment their voices go quiet behind the sliding glass door before you decide to finally venture out. The sound of Steve’s laugh catches in your ears, as you make your way through the empty trailer, the corners of your lips curling on their own as you tug on the handle that separates you from them. The humidity is quick to turn your skin sticky despite the sun disappearing behind the trees. 

”There she is! I heard Harrington tried to blind you,” Eddie chuckles from his place crouched in front of the fire. A half smoked cigarette dangling lazily from the side of his mouth as he ‘stokes’ the flames, the crackling wood competing with the buzz of the cicadas that surround you.

”Riddle me this, Steve, why is it that whenever someone ’helps’ you cook, they end up in the hospital or worse, almost BLIND!” 

From her spot sitting on one of the many faded red plastic lawn chairs they have circled around the pit, Robin doesn’t hesitate to turn it into a dog pile with dramatics that could rival an Oscar winning actress.

Steve rolls his eyes, the warm light from the smaller flame of the grill glowing underneath him, highlighting his sharp features. His gaze meets yours, ignoring his friends, and you swear even from here, you can see the green inside each eye shine. You know there’s a million questions he wants to ask but there’s only one that comes out, and it’s soft just like the way he touched you inside.

”Are you okay?”

It’s hard for you to look anywhere but his face, remembering just how pretty it was up close. Your eyes trace the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his full bottom lip before finally meeting his eyes. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth reminds you that you haven’t answered him yet but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Robin’s low whistle do all the talking.

”Uhh, yeah, I’m good. Crisis averted,” you mumble, snapping out of it, cheeks warming up enough to compete with the fire pit you stumble around, landing in the seat next to your best friend. “No jalapenos on mine, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

Without a cloud in an almost completely dark sky, you start to see the twinkling of the stars you’ll always miss begin to appear. They battle for your attention against the fireflies that flicker through the tall grass and into the woods. Lighter fluid stings your nose when Steve squirts more onto the burning coals, switching from hot dogs to burgers like he’s been grilling for a family of four his whole life.

A couple of beers calm your nerves that threaten to give you away, watching Steve in his element like this, the holes cut in his shirt showing off every flex of his muscles as he flips the patties. Cheese melting over the burger meat, just like your body that sinks further into the lawn chair that sticks to the backs of your thighs. He throws you a knowing look, making you clear your throat. Straightening your posture, you try to join in Robin and Eddie’s conversation like you hadn’t just been caught. Taking another long swig of the bitter semi cold liquid, you hope it’s enough to get you through dinner.

It’s not.

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town. 

It’s when a dribble of ketchup lands on top of Steve's hand after a large bite that you lose your cool. Right between his thumb and index finger, he hums with cheeks full of food before those full lips of his wrap around the spilled sauce, cleaning it with a flick of his tongue.

”I’m gonna throw my plate away, is anyone else done?” You squeak, standing up abruptly, your chair nearly falling backwards in the process. 

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to be a good house guest is all,” you lie, making Eddie quirk an eyebrow, the dimples in his cheeks coming out to play again.

”Uh huh.” He smirks before handing you his plate that Robin quickly piles hers on top of. “Sure.”

”That’s very sweet of you,” Steve chimes in, with a lopsided grin on his face that makes you want to punch the air and get out of here. 

“She’s pure class Harrington, get it right,” Robin comes for the save with a knowing wink that only makes the heat growing in your cheeks worse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble quickly turning on your heel, feeling all their eyes on you as you make your way to the back door of the trailer.

”Hurry back. We're gonna play Never Have I Ever,” your best friend calls out over her shoulder making you wish you could just stay inside when the sliding glass door closes behind you.

Embers spark and pop from the fire before they disappear into the night sky, the full moon’s white glow stopping just along the dark edges of the trees that surround the backyard. The four of you sit around the pit with fresh beers in hand. The buzz of the alcohol turning Steve’s gaze heavy as he stares at you from across the flickering flames. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look everywhere but his direction, and hope he doesn’t see the way your thighs press under the heat of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Robin?” Eddie whispers, big brown eyes glancing between the both of you, and your bouncing knee.

”It’s fine, they’ll be fine. Right guys?” She waves the metal head off, nudging you with her elbow, completely unphased.

”Of course we’ll be fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?” You snap, tugging the bottom of your skirt down, all the built up tension turning into aggression. Steve smiles into his next gulp.

“Whoa, whoa. I was just asking, but you do seem a little tense.” She raises her hands in surrender, both her eyebrows disappearing behind her shaggy bangs while Eddie distracts himself by poking the fire.

“Relax, it’s just a game,” Steve sighs, settling deeper in his chair, the warm amber in the flames bouncing off the mischievous gold in his eyes that keep their hold on you. “Besides, we’re friends now, right?”

Your gaze narrows, the grip on your beer tightening enough to hear the pop of the metal.“Yep,” you manage to get out, shooting Eddie a glare when he snorts.

“If you guys say so,” he starts, ignoring your scowl while getting cut off by Robin who’s practically vibrating in her seat now.

”Let’s have fun already. I’ll start.” Robin shushes him before acting like she’s deep in thought, turning to face you with the kind of grin on her face that tells you she’s up to no good, “Never have I ever…let some Wall Street douchebag go down on me in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.”

“That’s weirdly specific- oh wait! Damn! Princess!” Eddie whoops when you take a swig with a roll of your eyes, flipping Robin the bird. 

“Gotta try everything once, right?” You shrug, holding his gaze with a smirk, not even trying to hide that you’re taking great pleasure in the way Steve’s jaw clenches at the new found information of your life outside of here. “He had a nice mouth when he wasn’t using it for talking.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the mossy greens in his eyes turning dark as you lean back in your chair smugly.

“She’s a wild one, I’ll tell ya,” Robin giggles fondly, passing the baton to you with a proud smile.

Maybe it was the beer or the incessant way Steve’s presence drove you to the brink of insanity by rageful lust. Or even just the way he sat across from you with his legs spread wide like he ruled the world, whatever it was, that's what’s to blame for the question that rolls off your tongue.

“Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”

Robin’s jaw drops, guffawing with a harsh slap on your leg, mouthing a ‘you said you’d be nice’ but the buzz of the alcohol keeps a lopsided grin on her face. Eddie drinks, nervously watching the staring contest going on between you and Steve. Like a dog and its owner trying to establish dominance, both of you refuse to be the one who looks away first. Taking two gulps for good measure, he smacks his lips loudly when he’s done, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his wrist. Raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

”Who’s next? Who's next?” Robin urges with a flick on your knee, forcing you to fold and give her your attention with a blink of your eyes and it feels like the first time in hours that you finally look at someone other than Steve. 

Your teeth clench, grinding at the thought that even after all this time he’s still got this kind of hold on you, and it has you riding the thin line between wanting to give him a black eye or have him take you for a spin in his beemer for old times sake. 

“Eddie,” raising your can in his direction, he meets you in the middle with a cheers that doesn’t quite touch before slinking back in his chair with an exhausted huff.

“Hmmm, what do I want to reveal about myself?” He hums deep in thought, metal rings clinking against tin in a familiar tune as he taps his fingers around his beer can, “Never have I ever… been in a threesome, despite being titled ‘freak’ of Hawkins.”

“Really?” Robin seems genuinely shocked, making you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me too.” Eddie shrugs, with a knowing grin that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut.

That’s when you see it. Steve taking a drink.

”WHAT?!” Your best friend squeals practically jumping from her seat, clearly something that's not common knowledge being revealed.

Jealousy is an ugly monster, and it finds a home deep inside your chest tonight, turning you green with it. Your half empty beer can crunches the more your fingers dig into the tin, eyes narrowing when he just responds to Robin with a coy smirk and a shrug bringing his attention back to you.

”Gotta try everything once right?” Steve mocks, full pink lips curling up at the corners as he takes another sip.

Your heart sinks with your stomach, the muscles in your face doing the same before you have a chance to stop it. Visions of red nails and pink lips that don’t belong to you dance through your head, and the smug smirk he probably wore while his big hands gripped their hips taking turns making them moan his name. The sound of your can completely collapsing in a loud crunch gets everyone’s attention, and you ignore the softened expression on Steve’s face trying to capture your gaze again. Eddie clears his throat, throwing you a life line before opening a new can of beer with a suggestion you’ve never been more grateful for.

”Alright Steve, your turn.” 

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.”

A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night. 

“Look, she was a college senior, okay? I was only a sophomore and she was way cooler than me. Judge me all you want, but it worked didn’t it?” She argues, lifting her beer to the sky before taking a sip proudly. “No regrets!”

Her smile is contagious, easing some of the tension when you and Eddie giggle meeting each other's eyes from across her honey blond waves. You can feel Steve’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, the heat of it in direct competition with the fire that thrives off the light breeze that rustles through the trees. 

“Aright, alright, never have I ever faked getting off.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a toothy grin, looking at Eddie specifically who gives her a dead stare in response, clearly something told to her in confidence. 

Biting your lip, you really weren’t going to add more fuel to the fire but when you finally meet Steve’s eyes that have been begging for your attention this whole time, you can’t help but douse the flames with the whole can of gasoline. Another flash of different shades of lipstick staining the freckles you loved to kiss so much sending another wave of rage down to your core.

”I can think of a few times.” You snort loudly, holding his gaze and pointedly stealing everyone else's attention before polishing off the last of your crumpled can.

Steve’s jaw clenches hard enough that you swear you can hear his teeth crunch together. Nostrils flaring with a gaze so dark it threatens to swallow you whole, all traces of honey and warmth gone, leaving you chilled to the bone.

”I think we’re done with this game Robin,” he grunts, standing up with a kick of his chair and for once his eyes don’t search for yours as he stomps across the yard towards the yellow light of the trailer. 

“Seriously!” Your best friend groans, slinking back in her chair with a hand running down her face, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

”Yeah, genius! I told you, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen to me.” Eddie scoffs into his beer can, using his free hand to poke at the fire.

”Can you go, like, talk to him or something?” Robin turns to you with an almost pleading look that gets more prominent the more your face turns sour.

“Me?! I have to go talk to him? Seriously? He’s the one who stormed off,” you argue, crossing your arms.

”Yeah, well you clearly hurt his feelings.” She points at his pacing figure through the kitchen window and it takes everything inside of you not to tell her that he hurt yours first.

The two of you stare each other down, the wills of stubbornness at battle until her eyes go soft, big and glassy. 

“Please,” she begs, pulling out the big guns, and jutting out her bottom lip.

You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before surrendering with a roll of your eyes, huffing loudly when you uncross your arms to stand up, making her face light back up.

”I hate you. More than anything.”

Eddie cackles loudly at your lie, digging in his front pocket for a smushed pack of cigarettes.

“We all know you don’t mean that,” she hums with a content smile, leaning over to snatch the freshly lit tobacco from the metalhead’s mouth, waving at you as you start to follow Steve’s path up to the trailer. “Please don’t kill him!”

Closing the sliding glass door behind you, a shiver runs up your spine when the coolness of the air conditioning hits your sticky skin. The sound of running water catches in your ears from the kitchen along with the murmur of his voice under its rush.You can’t quite make out what he’s saying to himself, even when you reach the doorway. 

Hunched over the sink, his shoulder blades flex with every harsh scrub of the pan. His hat rests on the counter, and you can’t help but notice the wild way his hair sits on the top of his head from wearing it all day, sun kissed tips curling from the humidity. Clearing your throat just loud enough to alert him of your presence, you watch the way his whole body goes rigid. It only lasts for a moment before he recovers, shutting off the water with a lazy slap of his hand. Turning around he grabs the dish towel next to him to dry off, meeting your gaze with a little more color in his eyes, flecks of gold trying to shimmer in a raging storm.

Having his full attention on you, alone like this, is enough for your tongue to go numb. The back of your throat turns into sandpaper, making it impossible for words to find their way out. A big hand runs through his hair, fingers getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out with ease, a gentle sigh deflating his defensive chest just a little before he speaks.

“Hey.” 

Anger still boils under all of the attraction, along with the jealousy you aren���t willing to acknowledge.You aren’t ready. You can’t do this yet.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, turning on your heel and leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

You ignore the way he calls after you, seeking solace in the place that's become your hiding spot for the night. Fingers wrap around the handle to the familiar room, you stop in your tracks when a warm patch of light leaking out from a crack in a door that wasn’t opened before catches your attention. 

You can smell the cedar from here.

Glancing over your shoulder to see if he followed you, it changes the course of your direction when you discover that he didn’t. Taking a few steps across the hallway, you’re careful not to let the hinges creak when you push his bedroom door open a little more. Your senses quickly become overwhelmed with everything that makes Steve, Steve. You throw another cautious look down the hallway before crossing the invisible line. Closing the door like how you found it, you let your curiosity get the best of you. 

It’s cleaner than you thought it’d be now that he doesn’t live inside the Harrington’s massive house anymore. His bed is bigger, the twin sized mattress that you used to squeeze into traded in for a queen. The navy blue comforter that looks soft to the touch is laid out messy on white sheets, a digital clock with glaring red numbers that read 10:30 pm on the nightstand next to it. 

The carpet under your feet is a heather gray, and you can tell that it’s scratchy even with your shoes on. Patrick Swayze watches your every move from the Roadhouse poster hanging on his wall, the floor creaking as you make your way toward the small work desk in the corner. Your eyes linger on the impressive way all his dirty clothes manage to be in his hamper before they find the framed pictures spread over his desk. 

There’s one of him with the middle school boy you knew as Dustin Henderson perched on his back, only he looks much older than you remembered. The curls still give him away despite the braces free smile. Both of them grin hard enough for their eyes to crinkle in the corners like they had finally stopped laughing long enough for someone to snap this picture. 

You fight back the way your cheeks threaten to push up, not surprised to find one of him and Robin at what looks like Lover’s Lake, both of them striking the same pose with inflatable tubes around their waists wearing matching bucket hats and sunglasses.

The guy in these photos doesn’t seem anything like the one you remember and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it. They look the same.

”I don’t think this is the bathroom, do you?” Steve’s voice makes you jump, heart stopping in your chest for a split second before you meet his questioning stare with a guilty face of your own. 

His arms are crossed over his chest as leans against the door frame, unintentionally pulling the collar of his shirt down giving you a glimpse of the patch of hair and the gold chain underneath. The softness in his eyes from the kitchen is gone as he stares you down, it’s replaced with something you can’t quite put your finger on but the intensity of it raking over your body has your thighs meeting for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His full pink lips twist into a sarcastic smirk as he pushes off the wood, taking the next few steps into his room.

”Did you really mean what you said out there?” He questions, dark eyes sparkling the more you squirm under the heat of them.

”Mean what? I said a lot of things out there. We all did.” Narrowing your gaze, you try to take back some semblance of control, squaring up your shoulders at him but the dark chuckle you get in response tells you it’s a futile attempt.

“I didn’t say anything about you specifically though, did I?” Steve counters, stopping just a few feet away from you, tongue poking at the side of his cheek, “No, I don’t think I did.”

He hums, uncrossing his arms to mimic your stance in a silent challenge, eyebrows raised waiting on your response.

”I didn’t say anything about you specifically either.” Jutting out your chin in defiance, it's your turn to cross your arms now. Maturity at its finest.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he holds your eyes with his own and it takes everything inside of you not to look away. Your tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he starts to take a few steps closer, broad shoulders making the room feel small when the toes of his sneakers meet yours.

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk. 

He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb.

“I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?”

It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

”W-what?” Your stutter gives you away, but at least you tried to fight one last time before he went in for the kill.

The whites of his teeth show in the kind of smile that tells you he was hoping you’d ask just that. Leaning in, his palms land on his desk finding purchase on either side of your hips, caging you in. He’s close enough for the tip of his nose to brush against yours, close enough to smell the wheat from his beer on the warm breath that fans against your lips. 

“You wouldn’t still look at me the way you do, if I hadn’t made you feel good honey. And you know what else?” 

His voice goes deep as he whispers, nose nudging at your cheek before his lips hover right by your ear making you shiver, goosebumps making their second appearance of the day. Your hands find the edge of his desk, chest brushing against his in a deep breath feeling the slightest touch of his lips against the soft spot right behind it.  

“I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own.

“Steve -”

His fingers grab your chin like at the shop with just a firm enough hold for you to pull away if you want to but you can’t bring yourself to do it when his eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You wonder if it's just a mirror reflection of your own as he takes some of the new space you’ve given him, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body where yours screams for him most. His brows furrow when your noses brush and he swears he can taste the watermelon of your lip gloss, and then he knows he can when he feels your fingers curl into his shirt tugging him closer.

“I think,” he breathes into your mouth, hesitating just enough to soak it in a second longer before pulling away with an almost pained expression that he quickly tries to cover up, “I think it’s time for me to take you and Robin home.”

He steps back and out of your space, a nervous hand running through his hair like he did something he wasn’t supposed to do. His eyes meet yours again and there's something apologetic that swirls in the deep forest that watches you tug your skirt down straightening up.

”I’ll uh, I’ll give you a minute while I go wrangle Robin.” 

He takes one last look at you like he really needs to be sure of something before finally walking out and leaving you alone to wonder how the night ended with you here. Skirt rucked up, trying to catch your breath in Steve Harrington’s room.

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

🌻 chapter three

[luveline]

a june baby drabble —a typical sunday morning with eddie and his girlfriend (and her toddler)

Your arm wakes up first. Eddie's trying hard to climb over you without making any noise, and for the most part he's succeeding. You have superhuman hearing, the groan of the bed springs and the soft shuck of his socks on the floor waking you. 

"Eddie?" you mumble, blinking tired lashes. 

He strokes your cheek with the side of his pinky finger. You startle but turn into it fast, hungry for doting touch. Usually, Eddie would be eager to give it to you, but he needs to pee. 

He gives your cheek a last rub. Eddie's heavy with affection —he loves giving it to you, and you're in sore need. You're a sponge for love, probably because you didn't get as much of it as you needed the last few years. 

You poured it all into Junie 'til you had nothing else left, then you poured more. 

Eddie does his business, gets distracted in the bathroom by a toothpaste stain on the sink and then decides he might as well brush his teeth while he's in here. He rushes through it, excited to get back to you and the warm patch of bed he's left behind for some Sunday morning languishing. He's thinking he can stroke your back until it pisses you off. He loves how you let him do it far past annoying you, hiding your squirming until you have no choice but to push him away, the tickling unbearable. 

He's scratching his hair away from his face and squinting in the morning sun in the hall when he realises his prime time spot has been poached. A little arm curled around your neck, little face pressed to your face. Junebug hugs you while you snooze with a massive goofy smile on her lips, her cheeks chubby and her bare feet by your hip. 

Eddie knows then, looking at her, that he was wrong for thinking you needed love. You may not have been getting all the love you deserved, but the love you needed has been in arm's reach for the last three years. 

He climbs up the bed from the bottom, holding Junie's side up gently to slide beneath her. 

"Good morning, Junie-girl," he whispers, meeting her tired eyes. "You have a sleepie. Want me to get it?"

Her nod is slow like her head is moving through jelly. Eddie reaches up around her to brush it from the corner of her eye, careful not to scratch her with his nail. "Ew," he whispers teasingly. 

"Eddie," Junie grumbles. 

"You're gross, babe." 

"No," she says. 

Eddie wipes her sleepie in his shirt, unbothered. "Mom gets bad sleepies too. Must be from her. But I'm kidding, I'm kidding, you're not gross, are you?" His voice turns to a loving croon. "You're beautiful." 

You mumble something. Junie hugs you more insistently, prompting you to turn her way and pull your arm out. You drag her into your chest and bury your face in the side of hers, barely audible as you say, "He got that right." Cheek kiss, your hand covering her back, her pyjamas bunching under your slow back and forth, Junie looks as spoiled as any girl can.

Eddie inserts himself into the cuddle shamelessly. 

"What were you doing?" you ask, reaching blindly for his hand. 

"Me? Just using the facilities. You're real nosey, you know that?" 

"Bite my head off for asking," you say. He imagines you'd shrug if you had the arm space. "I won't ask again."

"Good," he says, though that's the opposite of what he wants. Eddie plans on answering small questions from you for the rest of his life if he has a choice. 

Junie plants a kiss on your cheek and uses her arms to leverage herself high enough to pout at Eddie. He brandished his cheek for a kiss, endeared when short fingers tangle in the hair by his ear. "Good morning," Junie says. "Mommy, you want breakfast?" 

You giggle and push yourself up the pillow, elbow in the mattress to get some height. You look very tired still, but you're a dream in Eddie's eyes, skin puffy around your eyes and your lips chapped. He's so in love, he wants to unscrew the chapstick and put it on you himself. He genuinely might do it. 

"Do you want breakfast?" you ask Junie. "Can you tell me? I want breakfast." 

"I want breakfast," Junie says. 'Breakfast' is a struggle for her sometimes, heavy on the 'uh' sound, like break-f-uh-sssst. She's a slow learner, but getting better everyday. "Sausages."

That sounds even funnier in her high-pitched voice. You brush a curl from Eddie's face thoughtlessly, looking at him without really looking at him. "We'll have sausage, egg and grits, yeah? Yummy." 

"Yummy," Junie agrees. She gives Eddie a pointed stare.

"Yummy," he says, scooping her up carefully to hold to his chest. "Let's go! Before mom thinks she's in charge of cooking!" 

You laugh as Eddie stands up in the middle of your mattress, and Junie screams with it as he bounds off of it and into the hallway. "Eddie, you could've tripped on the sheets!" you chide. 

"Oh no," he says, spinning down the hall, laughing himself as Junie starts her infectious baby giggle, vertigo pulling her head back. 

He makes a maraca of your girl until you appear to get her back, and for a good ten seconds, Eddie manages to wrap his arm around your arm and spin you with them. Your laughter is as cute as June's but lined in real alarm. You get dizzy faster than your daughter does. 

"Don't drop her," you plead, pulling away from him.

"As if I would." 

"Please, Eddie, you're wearing slippery socks." 

He stops spinning her. He doesn't feel dizzy himself, he wouldn't have risked something silly like that, but he stops because you were worried, and he only ever wants you to be relaxed, well-rested, and loved. 

"Take your spawn," he says, passing her to you with the utmost care. 

You take her and settle her against you, stroking her under the eye with the back of your finger. "Thank you. Eddie shook you around like a can of soda, huh? How do you feel?" 

"Hungry," Junie says immediately. 

You press a smile to her temple. "Good. Eddie's making breakfast." 

Eddie could pump his fist in victory, he's that happy. You're finally letting him take care of you. "Three plates of the best sausage, egg, and grits ever coming right up, ladies."  

[bts-hyperfixation]

What do you think the boys would've done on their last nights with their significant others before joining the military?

Some of these are last nights, others are full days. Also only Taes has explicit smut mention, although most mention sex in some fashion

Please send me asks to keep me motivated while I'm off work! Thirsty thoughts, Most likely to, reactions, life updates, and general gibberish welcomed!!

Namjoon: 

I think Namjoon would've wanted a quiet night. He was probably stuck at work trying to finish plans on that Instagram account that's still posting and maybe fiddling with the album we know he started. But he would have tried his hardest to put it down and return home by nine to spend time with his loved one. His partner would be waiting for him with a simple takeaway on the table and maybe a TV show they had been watching together queued up. They'd stay cuddled on the couch for the longest time. They'd maybe fall around but not get anywhere (Something Namjoon regrets by day 3 in the barracks), maybe they intended to have sex one last time before he left but neither wanted to acknowledge it was actually the last time. He would talk about how this was ridiculous, it's not like they'd be 18 months without one another, just a couple of months at a time is all... And then he'd get sad and introspective. They'd fall asleep on the sofa because going to bed would bring their last night to an end and Namjoon doesn't want to willingly relinquish that time. 

Seokjin: 

I think he hired out a restaurant he and his partner like, maybe even their first date restaurant. The partner actually panicked that Jin was going to propose the night before he left and was ready to yell at him if he pulled out a ring. Jin sets up multiple proposal cliches throughout the evening giving his partner a heart attack each time while he acts nonchalant about it, pretending he doesn't know why they are getting worked up. This is stuff like a jewellery box on the table (It's a necklace), A gem in the champagne (It's tiny ice), He kneels by the table (and ties his shoe). They take a long walk by the river after dinner, his partner increasingly exasperated but still very fond. He finally does pull out a ring, but he insists it's only a promise ring and the real ring will be given to them on June 14th 2024 (Doesn't want to share the anniversary). The evening probably ended with some very slow, heavy eye-contact, love-making

Yoongi:

Disclaimer - I'm not 100% sure if Yoongi had to go anywhere for any length of time... but this is written as if he were doing the same as the other boys. 

He cooked dinner, something he is gonna claim is simple, but he took all day to make it. He also lay the table with a white tablecloth, dimmed all the lights and set out candles. Flower petals lead you through different stations of the apartment. First appetizers and cocktails on the sofa so his partner can talk about their day, then to the table for the main course, to the bathroom where bubbly and strawberries await next to a warm bath for two, and finally to bed for dessert. Which actually meant dessert, there's a snack platter of sweets in the centre of the bedspread and a movie queued up on the TV. the movie wasn't really watched... but the thought was there.

Hoseok: 

I feel like Hobi made an entire day out of it, he set aside time to make sure he only had his significant other to focus on and made sure his SO did the same so they were uninterrupted. Then he locked them into their apartment, only opening the door to bring in food deliveries. The day starts with lazy morning sex. Then breakfast. Then lazy shower sex. Then maybe some TV time, where his hands remain firmly on his partner as if they are going to disappear the second he lets them go. The SO convinces him to go for a walk at lunchtime, they hold hands the entire time. Hoseok has them sit in his lap when they return home. Just wants to be permanently close. The third round of sex is definitely more driven, like he has a point to prove and doesn't want his SO to forget what exactly it is they are going to be waiting so patiently for. 

Jimin: 

Jimin took his SO back to his home town a couple of days before. Maybe spent some time with his family in Busan, had a very nostalgic craving for his parents cooking and took his SO along for the ride. They do stuff he liked to do as a kid, visiting places that he wouldn't be easily recognised. He's anxious, and jumpy, and clingy a lot of the time. He keeps asking his partner if they are going to be okay when really it's his own insecurity. Jimin had someone drive them in a nice car back to Seoul in the early afternoon so they had the evening together, they probably fooled around in the car as he tried to keep himself occupied. He let them hold his hand while he had his head shaved, needing the familiar reassurance. He took a break to show Army his hair, but the SO is hiding behind the camera. Then the evening is spent quietly, wrapped together to enforce the fact that they aren't going anywhere.

Taehyung: 

He came up with so many different plans for what he wanted to do that by the time the day came around he hadn't actually implemented any of them. And sure he is Taehyung of BTS, if he had made a couple last minute phonecalls he could have made anything happen but he decides the lack of plans is exactly what was meant to be. He runs on pure unplanned whims and ends up taking his SO to absolutely anywhere that pops into his mind in the most chaotic fashion. They go to the movies (Something everyone's already seen so no one else is there) (they may spend most of it making out in the back). They go to an arcade (An old buddy of Tae's owns it and makes sure they get an hour uninterrupted). They eat lunch at the SO's favourite restaurant. Eventually, they go home and Taehyung spends hours between his lover's thighs, trying to immortalise the taste of them in his brain before he no longer has the access he so desperately craves. They probably also have a lot of sex. He falls asleep insisting on cockwarming, convincing his partner the UTI will be worth it with the Tata mic face. 

Jungkook:

It takes a while for his SO to convince him to do anything at all because "What's wrong with in my arms in my bed forever?" (And he's right, nothing wrong with that and if his SO don't want it I volunteer). He convinced them to snuggle back down with him at least three times until lunch rolled around and they insisted he get up with them to go somewhere. They never end up leaving the house. Every time his SO goes to put on a shirt, Jungkook grabs it and throws it somewhere it can't be easily recovered. There was one in the sink with the dirty dishes, one mixed with the already dirty laundry, and another hanging from a light fixture they would both need a ladder to reach. Eventually, the SO has to relent because they won't have any shirts to say goodbye in the following day. So they succumb to his wishes (Although they make him go out to fetch food first). He holds on to them possessively throughout the day, pulling as much of them against him as is reasonable at any given time. I fully believe Jungkook would crawl into the skin of an SO if he thought it was possible. 

[chaosandmarigolds]

Dearest...

(Fem!reader, weapon’s dealer daughter, and yeah this is also just sadness. Sorry y’all)

He didn’t account for the emotional factors of living a lie, sure he had thought of them, but very briefly at that- barely a second thought, more of a passing notion rather than a pure line. At least it had be a passing mist, then as the days grew into nights and the nights began to liner into mornings, he found himself to be thinking of it every waking moment. Every time he looked over to you his mind flashed with how heartbroken you would be, he dreaded the very moment he was now living in.

“It’s two in the morning,” You mumble, hand finding the switch on the wall to turn the light on, hair messily in its braid and eyes riddled with sleep. After all, you had just thought your boyfriend of close to six months just woke up (not uncommon) so you chose to join him. Yet when you turn on the light you find him, in what seemed to be full gear, minus a mask that he held in his hand and in the other he held a few folders. So, unsure of what to do you laugh eyes going between the folders and his eyes, “Goodness, it’s June, I don’t think it’s the right time for…um...for costumes.”

The silence was suffocating.

The folders held all of your father’s contacts, and you knew this, after all, he had trusted Simon to keep them safe while he was aware of work. It made sense, your father was a weapons dealer with a longer rap sheet than any convict, and Simon had worked his way into your father and his business. he was strong, he was kind and he treated you with love and respect, he was a trustworthy man…or…you had thought. In that moment you slowly put the pieces together.

“Can…” Your words die on your tongue and you take a shaky step forward, reaching for it, “Can I have that, please? Please?”

As you move forward he moves back, moving the folder behind his back, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t thought of his own emotions getting caught into this, he accounted for the millionth of a chance he wouldn’t want to leave, that he would want to leave you unscathed, loved, and coated in the warmth of his love. He hadn’t thought tears would worm their way into his eyes as he spoke, “Let me go.”

To his words, you take a shuttered breath and look up to meet his gaze, voice shaky, “Then give it back, th-those are important.”

“I can’t do that.”

”I’ll call Ivon.”

A short pause, squeezing his mask a bit tighter as if it would hide the blood with the black, “He can’t help.”

A short sob rips through your throat and you shake your head, “What is this?”

He couldn’t come with an answer.

“You came for the files,” You were whispering, as if to just allow yourself time to wake up, to fully process the events before you, “Were you just going to leave? In the middle of the night and I don’t even get a GOODBYE? You were going to leave the past six months for nothing? Was-was I-Was I just… No-” You sniffle up the emotions and hold your hand out, as if waiting for him to take it but your eyes go to the folder, “Give it to me, I’ll forget about it-we-we can go back to normal.”

“Please, let’s go back to normal, Simon.” You said again, “Tell me you love me again, I don’t care if it is real or not I just want you to love me, because I love you. Tell me…” As your voice falters he looks away, taking slow steps to the door, and with a crushing wave, your tears begin to fall down your face.

“It was never real. Never meant a word did you?”

He did mean it.

“None of it, huh? You must’ve been so annoyed when I would tell you I loved you.”

He treasured those words more than his own life.

“You didn’t mean it and I fell for it. Oh god…I fell for it….I loved you.” Your words then become a hiss, “I LOVED YOU.”

A million things he wanted to say, a million times he had almost backed out of the mission and prayed he could vanish off the face of the earth. A million times he wished he could hold you once more. A million words but only two could be choked out, “I’m sorry.”

You take a heaving breath, shuttering for air and you tilt your head, “For what?”

“Breaking you.”

You stare at him for a long moment, tears riddling your eyes and you breathe slowly, “You don’t get that honor.”

Apparently, it was a good thing you never told him about the secret alarm you had embedded in your bracelet.

(That's all!! Thanks for any and all comments and feedback you may wanna leave! <33)

[pinkrelish]

do you think once miss mouse and eddie were in an established relationship she’d bake cakes for his and adrie’s birthday every year?? i feel like she’d go full out for adrie like full on multi tiered princess cake and the first time she does it eddie and his baby just go absolutely feral in the best way possible

ps typ is my favourite slow burn EVER i love it withh all my heart ur so talented

today's my birthday so it seems fitting to answer this! wc: 496

morning dawns soft blue in a kitchen warmed by low lights, and orange coils. a kettle boils water too hot for a third cup of instant coffee, and cooked sugar enriched by vanilla bakes through the small apartment. suffocating heat from the oven on the early june day breaks sweat on your forehead as you re-whip the frosting you made an hour ago, plastic bowl in your arms still cold from the fridge. the yellow cake cooling on the rack simple, homemade. jack of all trades, master of none, it's nothing impressive, just something to tide adrie and neighborhood kids over until the big party on the weekend.

still, when your big snoring man shuffles in with a bedhead halo and plaid pajama pants with one drawstring longer than the other, his raw wonder catches the husky sleep deep in his throat—"aw, baby, what're you doin'?"

you shrug, too shy to admit how early you woke up to do this, suddenly embarrassed with your effort to make a good impression on his daughter's first birthday with you in her life. he had no clue what you had planned for her real cake, and already your cheeks went hot from the lovesick shine flooding his eyes, big softy about to cry while he scratched his stomach under his shirt.

"you're too much," he says in a shake of his head. too much on a thursday morning when her party comes saturday afternoon.

his bare feet scatter the balloons creeping across the carpeted floor, blown up by him late last night until he felt faint, and ready to be popped in the energetic rush of cake for breakfast. on his way to you, he passes the one wrapped gift of a latch hook rug kit beneath the happy birthday banner you hung crooked even with his help. it was a creativity driven present to keep her busy before she got her big girl bike in two days time. training wheels most definitely included.

any second now adrie would run through the streamers you both taped to the top of her door frame, so eddie made quick work of putting the frosting aside and smothering kisses atop your head, wielding his dad strength to hug you tight to his chest, steering you into a twirl by his hold on your wrists, rocking from foot to foot until your back was crushed to his front.

tucking his chin to mash his nose to your hair, his heavy hum vibrates through your skull as he surveys the usual munson fare mingling with your new traditions, slowing your bodies to a gentle sway until his sigh empties from his lungs. "you mean everything to us, you know that?"

"i know that," you answer so softly it was lost in the bubbling hiss from the kettle before he shut off the burner. "you're everything to me, too."

"thank you, baby."

"thank you, handsome." thank you for this moment, this family, this love.

[seriouslysnape]

hello! can i get a severus lazy sunday morning with the reader? 🖤

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader Tags: None. Word Count: 1.1k "You can stay right here. I'll call you when it's ready."

It was the pattering of rain on the roof that initially woke Severus up. It drummed on the house and sprinkled across the windows. The trees outside rustled from the wind that whistled outside. He let out a slow exhale at the sound of the low rumbles of thunder rolling off in the distance.

Three days of solid rain was more than enough, and frankly, he was missing the sunshine. Nonetheless, there wasn't a thing he could do about the weather, so he supposed that griping about it wouldn't do him any good.

After all, it was hard to complain when there was a beautiful woman curled up next to him.

Severus was a bit of a stirrer in the mornings. He wasn't typically one to lounge around in bed, typically getting up and on his feet the moment that his eyes opened. But you, on the other hand, liked to gradually wake up instead of getting a fast start to your day. If there wasn't an immediate reason to get up, then you were more than likely going to stay snuggled in for a little while.

With that being said, he tried to keep his movements to a minimum to avoid waking you. He could bear staying wrapped up in the sheets if it meant you getting some extra rest. He was perfectly content with holding you close and watching the weather rage on outside through the window.

Unfortunately, he couldn't control the volume and intensity of the thunder that accompanied the rain. One booming crack of thunder spooked you awake with a hard flinch and a light gasp. The sudden reaction even made Severus jump a bit, his arms holding you tighter as a gesture of protection.

"It's all right," He nuzzled his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss just above the tip of your ear. "You're safe. It's just a storm."

His morning voice always sent a chill down your back. It was deeper than usual, groggy and sluggish. You relaxed at the sound of it, releasing a relieved sigh when you realized that your house wasn't being attacked by some outside force.

"Mm. Still raining I assume?" Your eyes fluttered closed again in an attempt to slow the hard thumping of your heart.

"Unfortunately." He grumbled, his focus on you instead of the storm.

"It's not all bad. I've had you all to myself for three days straight." You giggled, the sound of your laugh spreading a warmth over his chest.

"Darling, has there ever been a time where you didn't?" He answered.

He pushed some fallen strands of hair out of your eyes, a small smile appearing on his features as he admired your calm expression.

"Generally, no. But sometimes the duties of being a professor steals you away."

He couldn't deny that. Just being a professor could be overly demanding -- adding in being the head of Slytherin and some occasional administrative responsibilities could most definitely dry up the well of his free time.

Before he met you, he spent pretty much every night at the school in his personal chambers. He didn't see the need in traveling home every night (as easy and convenient as it might've been) if he had no real reason to. He spent all of his time at Hogwarts from September to June.

But after meeting you and having the pleasure and blessing of your lives intertwining, he had to learn how to balance his work life and personal life. Now, he traveled home almost every single night, unless he just couldn't get away from his office and/or classroom.

He did everything that he could to ensure that you were his top priority...although, sometimes he still fell short.

"We still have well over a month before the term starts," He remarked. "Plenty of time before my schedule gets overly full."

"What's on your schedule until then?" You asked, eyes opening just enough to peer up at him.

He let out a low chuckle when he kissed your temple, the vibrations running down your side and causing a brief tingle in your toes. He exhaled a satisfied hum when one of your legs settled between his.

"You."

Another roll of thunder rumbled, yet not quite as vigorous this time. You smiled at him, which caused a tint of a blush to appear on his cheek.

"Doesn't sound too busy then." You ran your index finger's knuckle across the apple of his cheek with a feather-like touch.

"Just the way I like it." He smirked.

A round of silence followed. The two of you were just enjoying each other's presence and taking advantage of the fact that you had absolutely nothing to do...not to mention having a great excuse not to come up with something to occupy your time.

The rain was relentless after all. Who in their right mind would want to go out in this kind of weather? It was a perfect setup for a day inside.

There were plenty of things to do around the house. The only problem was that you had already been doing them for three days now.

You could only take a crack at raiding and reading your entire library for so long. The house was spotless and lemony fresh, so cleaning was crossed off your list. You were looking forward to trying a new recipe for dinner, but you assumed that you still had an entire day to get through first.

"What time is it?" You asked, realizing that it could've been noon for all you knew.

Severus raised his head just enough to peek over you to get a glimpse of the alarm clock on the bedside table on your side.

"6:47." He answered.

"Oh, that is so early," You gawked. "I'm too awake to go back to sleep though."

"Shall I make us some breakfast then?" He suggested. "You can stay right here. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Pancakes? Coffee?" You asked, a glittering admiration for the man talking sweet to you shining over your face.

"Of course," He nodded. "Whatever you want, angel."

He peppered kisses across your nose and down your neck, bubbly giggles and squeaks sounding out from your chest. You managed to squeal out an "I love you" through laughter and shrills.

He couldn't understand how someone like you could love him so much. He liked to think that he had done something in his life to deserve some like you. But in reality, he knew that he was just plain lucky.

"I love you," He returned the endearment before whipping the covers off of the bed, ignoring your hiss of disapproval. "Pancakes are on the way."

Once he was on his feet, he pulled the covers back over you, chuckling at the way you shimmied further down with a gleeful whimper. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving to whip up the best stack of pancakes you had ever tasted.

"Enjoy the rain, my love."

[jmdbjk]

Needed a moment to collect.

I hear the winds of the wasteland blowing through my head because it will feel so barren without them. It's not as if we see them in real time everyday...but... I already miss them.

It's the same feeling I had after the June 2022 Festa dinner. I was so bereft it was mind-blowing. They tried their best to convey what their plan was and to reassure us and they asked us to listen to them and trust them.

Many struggled with that request.

It was slow realizing it wasn't the end and then everything accelerated and these past few weeks/months have been a doozy. Look at what this past year and a half brought us. More Bangtan joy than I thought was possible!

Now, for me, its just knowing they won't be going about their regular crazy days staying up until dawn, or flying out in the morning just to sleep for the next 10 hours on a plane and land at who knows what time where ever, and hit the ground running. Or going out with their friends to a meat restaurant to just eat, drink and chill. Or working on music or choreo or planning whatever. Or visiting art galleries or museums and stopping for coffee on a beautiful day.

They certainly didn't update us everyday about those things but they did just enough for us to know that's what their lives entail and let us fill in the rest. All that's on pause now.

It is hard to comprehend that Jungkook just wrapped up a very successful solo release just to put it all aside and step away.

His heartfelt letter was precious. I expect something similar from Jimin.

They knew they were going to do it. We knew to expect it. Still...

This is something they are required to do, they are going to do and they are prepared to do it.

Let them do it in peace, grace and dignity.

They prepared some things for us. Be grateful.

Though it's tough knowing the time has come, I also know that they are not going to let those wasteland winds linger in my head very long. They are already dissipating because we have stuff coming down the pipe:

We heard last year that the Disney+ documentary was going to be a series and here it's coming soon. It will take us through to January.

And now the excitement is through the roof upon learning Jimin and Jungkook are about to head to Japan.

The MAMA Awards are being held at the Tokyo Dome, Tuesday, Nov. 28. They are leaving today/tomorrow. Plenty of time to relax, have a little down time and vacation, shoot some content, and then accept their awards Tuesday night.

We already know a "travel with Jimin and Jungkook" is coming soon. Should we anticipate a revisit to GCF Tokyo, or maybe something else similar? I love those two so much, they're always on my mind. They've been so sneaky and careful only because they know this is something special for us. Maybe it will come to us following the Disney series. We don't know what content they've got in the can, ready to follow.

Then we will have a few more months before Jin returns next summer.

Jimin and Jungkook. In recent months, I've gotten really good at filtering out the noise. I've sat here with calm understanding about Jimin and Jungkook, seeing them STILL the same with each other in every bit of new content they've shared. I only need my own two eyes and ears to detect that strong bond. They have the thing that is precious between two people. Grand gestures are not necessary and not their style.

They love their fans... that would be us: ARMY... they love us. They want to give us what we want. They live for that. So Jimin brought back his blonde hair, showed us his moons running down his back. And Jungkook stepped out of the shower naked. They KNOW what we want and want to give it to us as best they can! They know we love them and want to show off their chemistry.

Not gonna lie, this past year flew by for me. It was month after month of anticipation. And now here we are at the end of the year.

All the arguing and fighting and ugliness that some engage in is just noise. Our mens are gonna be the good and honest beings they are no matter what anyone says. Listen to them.

We expect them all back mid-year 2025. We expect a wonderful new most beautiful moment in life. We expect the best is yet to come. We expect something amazing and we won't be disappointed. Trust them.

Their plan is already in motion and has been. We wait™️.

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 7 - "What happened?"

| Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

For once, I decided to make Lawrence the super emotionally vulnerable one lol.

CW: Parental whumper, stockholm syndrome, nightmares, death (in nightmare), yandere whumper

...

Lawrence woke up with a jolt. He'd been in the middle of a nightmare, but then realized his blankets were tossed onto the floor. His hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

He clutched his own beating heart and tried to slow his breaths, which turned to pants as the anxiety gripped his lungs.

It took a few minutes for him to finally calm down. He ran his fingers over his wet cheeks. It had been a while since he had such an awful dream.

He didn't even remember what it was about until he thought of Marshall.

Those green eyes that normally shone so bright were dull in his hellscape of a dream. The light in them was snuffed out, and Lawrence screamed so loud in his dream, his throat felt sore in real life. He scrambled out of bed and hurried into Marshall's bedroom, slamming open the door.

He was expecting to see his boy there, sleeping as restlessly as he usually did, but his bed was empty.

Lawrence froze for just a moment, and then felt back on the verge of a panic attack.

"MARSHALL?!" he cried, racing out of the room and stumbling down the hall so fast he nearly slipped and fell. There was no way, he wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. His nightmare wasn't reality.

He frantically opened the doors, ignoring how loud they slammed into the walls. It didn't matter to him in this moment.

He continued screaming his name, but was interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing and a door opening. He let out a strangled sound and bolted for the bathroom.

Marshall emerged, rubbing his eyes blearily.

He was just as Lawrence had left him hours earlier: in a loose pajama shirt and sweats, with his thick brown hair tangled from sleep.

Lawrence ignored the puzzled look on Marshall's face as he tackled him into a hug, letting out a choked sob. Marshall tensed, but relaxed in the embrace, patting his back awkwardly. He let Lawrence fuss over him, looking him over for injuries.

"What happened? Am I in trouble? I was just using the bathroom," Marshall anxiously explained. His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, are you crying?"

Lawrence sniffled and pulled away, pressing his palms against Marshall's shoulders. "You're okay. You're okay," he repeated. Marshall was sure he had completely lost his mind. He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair. "God, don't scare me like that ever again, do you hear me? Please, please, never do that again."

"Uhh, okay... sorry." Marshall learnt the best way to avoid getting scolded or worse was to just go along with it. Even if he had no clue what he did. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Yeah... wanna sit on the couch, watch a movie?"

"It's two in the morning."

Lawrence put his arm over his shoulder and led him out of the bathroom. "So? We can make hot cocoa, you love that stuff. And what ever movie you want!" Marshall looked hesitant. "Please, kiddo? I don't want to be alone right now. We can sleep in extra late tomorrow, and I can even bake you those madeleines. And I can even make--"

"Okay, okay! No need to bribe me." Marshall gave him a lopsided smile.

Lawrence returned the smile. He had been so terrified to go to sleep ever again after that. The thought of losing Marshall drove him mad. He couldn't stand the thought of losing his child to anything.

They settled on the couch with their cups of hot cocoa, a warm blanket, and one of Marshall's favorite movies.

Marshall hated to admit it, but he was genuinely worried over his captor. He scooted closer, to lean his head on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about it? The nightmare?"

The blond turned his head towards him. He pondered it for a moment. "It was about you." His grip on the mug tightened. "You don't need to hear about it, Marshie. I don't wanna traumatize you."

Marshall resisted the urge to tell him he didn't do a good job at that. "No, I want to. If, um, you're willing to tell me."

"I..." Lawrence trailed off. Marshall didn't know if it was a good idea to press him further or not, but Lawrence then went on, "I don't know the details, but you were hurt. You were crying, and there was a lot of blood. And I couldn't do anything to help you. I just had to watch you--" His voice cracked and he cut himself off. Marshall's eyebrows knitted together. "But then I woke up and you weren't in your room, and I thought maybe that was it, that it had all happened in real life."

"Oh." Marshall stared at the TV screen, not knowing where else to look. It hurt to look at the pain in Lawrence's eyes.

Lawrence wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be listening to this, I'm supposed to be the one comforting you." He laughed, but it came out as more of a strangled sob.

Marshall didn't know what to do. He put his mug down on the coffee table and turned so he could hug him properly, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"I'm okay. See? I'm here with you. Nothing's gonna happen to me. Not if you're watching over me," he reassured. He cringed internally at the words, but he knew that would make Lawrence feel better. And that's what he needed.

"Oh, Marshall." Lawrence embraced him back. He pressed his lips against his temple. "I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that, right? You know how much I love you, don't you?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yeah, I do."

"You're all I have," he murmured. His nails dug into the back of Marshall's neck. "I'm never, ever, going to lose you. You belong here. Right here, in my arms, where you're safe." Lawrence's possessive behavior was no longer scary, it was just plain annoying. It made Marshall's stomach churn. "Where I can protect you. From the bad people out there."

Marshall didn't view Lawrence as a bad person, but misunderstood. He was delusional.

Marshall knew he could be cruel and controlling, but he wasn't some villain from a superhero movie. He was a man with problems and needs, like everyone else.

He didn't believe he had stockholm syndrome... he was just an empathetic person. That's what he kept telling himself.

Lawrence's grip tightened. "You know that, right? And--and if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd kill them. I would. I'd do anything to protect you."

"Yeah, I know. But no one is coming after me, and if they did, then you'd be there to keep me safe." Marshall yawned. He hoped Lawrence would get the hint, and thankfully, he did.

He released Marshall from the crushing hug and sat back again. "Right. I would. Don't forget that. Ever."

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

Here's another Royai fic rec.

June means @royaiweek is almost upon us! Here's a few recs to get the inspiration churning.

If you know any of these authors are on tumblr, please tag them!

holy water cannot help you now by starsinherblood

Rating: T

Word count: 4.5K

Summary: Colonel Mustang recovers his Lieutenant.

Excerpt: "And in the midst of it all, the eye of the storm, Mustang stood with his gloves still trailing wisps of smoke."

My thoughts: We love a good rescue mission, and this one has it all. The masterful starsinherblood strikes every chord: angst, action, a clever Riza and an unhinged protective Roy. Perfectly in-character, and the details are VIVID. If you love the "touch her and die" trope, this one's for you. I think about this story a lot.

in the mess it's made of us by plalligator

Rating: E (if you're not into that, just skip the last chapter; the rest of the story is a solid T and will still feel complete)

Word count: 24K

Summary: Roy and Riza break the rules, keep their vows, and fall in love.

Excerpt: “If we’re going to be married, you better call me Roy,” he said.

“Riza,” she said, and laid her hand in his with a smile. It was the kind of smile that snuck up on you, not dazzling but so obviously warm and genuine Roy could feel his own tentative smile widen and become real. He marvelled at how successfully she had managed to hide herself away with her plain cropped hair and downcast eyes.

“Riza, then,” he said. I’m going to do right by you, Riza.

My thoughts: This plot is brilliant: Roy and Riza are married by her father's arrangement just before Roy leaves for Ishval. The events of FMAB unfold as in canon, but Roy and Riza are platonically, secretly married the entire time, and they are slowly falling for each other. This story's pacing, the slow burn, is to DIE for. I honestly wish this was canon. It fits so freaking well. And be sure to follow it up with the short sequel, life between contractions (rated T, word count 3K), where Team Mustang finally learns the truth about Roy and Riza's relationship.

how many miles to babylon by spiraetspera

Rating: T

Word count: 1.6K

Summary/Excerpt: "That Hawkeye" Hughes asks Roy much later, as they pick the remains of their gruel at the fire. "Is she a friend or something more?"

My thoughts: I've seen this one on a lot of rec lists, but it truly deserves to be there. I'm a sucker for quick reads that deliver a gut punch, and this is one of those. In less than two thousand words, spiraetspera paints a beautifully tragic picture of Roy and Riza's shared past: his mentorship by her father, and their time in Ishval.

R. Hawkeye: K.I.A by sevendeadlyseas

Rating: M

Word count: 3.3K

Summary: It will be easy paperwork. A simple note under her file, a red stamp marked K.I.A; killed in action, protecting her superior officer.

Roy copes with the aftermath of Riza’s death.

Excerpt: He wants to be angry, to shoot back and kill the person who did this. But that would defeat the entire point of everything they’d worked for already. Riza would hate him for it.

Instead he screams at the medic until his voice is coarse, and begs her lifeless body to wake. 

He cries himself to sleep that night. While he wakes up in the morning, Riza never will again.

My thoughts: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. This one will curb-stomp your soul. But its so amazingly written, beautiful and tragic, the pain is well worth it.

[xoxobuckybarnes]

June 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

some say it makes the world go round (Rated: T, Words: 22K) by mambo / @whtaft 

Summary: Steve Rogers is a professor just appointed to a tenure-track position at Triskelion College. Bucky Barnes is the writer-in-residence there. Steve doesn't mean to fall in love.

Maybe Baby (I’ll Have You) (Rated: T, Words: 6K) by musette22 / @musette22

Summary:  It’s Monday morning, and Bucky is just preparing a large mocha, extra whip for one of the many exchange students that have been finding their way into his shop lately, when the little bell above the door rings and a large man carrying a tiny baby in a papoose walks in. 

Twenty Seconds (Rated: M, Words: 6K) by Ribbonsflying

Summary: Bucky lies to his mom about having a boyfriend so when his mom surprises him by coming to New York, Bucky panics and asks Steve to pose as his boyfriend. The only thing is that Bucky barely knows Steve. Steve's just the guy at the pizza parlor that Bucky's teased a few times. He's just as likely to let Bucky crash and burn for a little bit of payback.

College Boys (series) by BonkyBornes / @bonky-bornes​

I Hate You (I Love You) (Rated: NR, Words: 22K)

Summary: Everyone knew that Steve Rogers hated Bucky Barnes. It’s not that he’d said anything or even done anything, but Bucky Barnes was a jock, and everyone knew that jocks hated people like Steve Rogers, so Steve hated him on principle. Really, it was to protect himself. If he stayed away from the people who were destined to make his life a living hell, things would go smoothly, right? (Right?)(Or, they're in the same class and are partners for a group project) (Or, or, Steve thinks he hates Bucky Barnes but they fall in love anyway)

I Love You (You Hate Me) (Rated: NR, Words: 3K)

Summary: A scene taken from I Hate You (I Love You) and put into Bucky's POV. After his teammates bail on him for another Halloween party, Bucky expects to have a night alone at his apartment. He makes a plan with his sister to watch a couple movies. Then Steve shows up.

Here to Stay (Rated: NR, Words: 1K)

Summary: “Move in with me.” Bucky had practiced the words in his head all afternoon. Even so, they were quiet and demure when he finally said them. He cleared his throat. “Move in with me, Steve.” Or, they talk about prostitution.

Little Giant (Rated: NR, Words: 11K)

Summary: The last hour of his shift was both agonizingly slow and astonishingly fast. Twice, Natasha yelled at him to prevent him from putting the wrong liquor in drinks. It was a relief when Valkyrie clocked in and took over. With only fifteen minutes left, Steve really let himself think about Brock’s proposition. Steve could go home. He should go home. He was in no state for anything else and he’d gotten out for a good reason. His back had never really healed. He could go home and curl up on the couch with good food and better company and allow himself to finally let down his guard. Payday was next week and he’d finally have enough for his rent and the rest of his loan payment. But then the cycle would start again. All it took was one win to give him some cushion. (All it took was one wrong hit to make everything worse.) If he won he’d be that much closer to moving in for real. He’d be that much closer to marrying Bucky and their life starting for real. No more halfway. No more back and forth. Just them. But would Bucky even want to marry him anymore if he knew?*Or, Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Marbles (Rated: NR, Words, 2K)

Summary: Steve peeked up at Bucky and hid his face again. “What would you say if I said I gave my two weeks?” Bucky would be elated. He’d pull out the bottle of sparkling wine his parents had given them ages ago, and they’d celebrate because it would mean that Steve was finally putting himself first and trusting that Bucky would catch him. But it would also mean Steve had truly reached his breaking point. “I’d say we’d figure something out. You know my goal is to officially live together before we’re eighty.” “Ask me,” Steve said so softly Bucky almost thought he made it up. “Ask me to move in.” Or, prostitution part 2 Or, Or, Bobby and Steve's Auto World

I’ll Cover You (with a thousand sweet kisses) (Rated: NR, Words: 3K)

Summary: Steve was only pulled from his perusal of the sketchbook by Bucky plopping into his lap, wrapping his legs around his waist. “No more today.” “I thought you wanted me moved in.” “And you are. Let me enjoy the first afternoon I officially live with my fiancé. Please.” He stuck his bottom lip out and batted his eyelashes. Steve was quickly learning he was unable to deny Bucky anything when he did that. “Fine.” Steve dropped the sketchbook back in the box. Bucky shoved it away with his foot. Steve snorted, but then Bucky’s lips were against his, and the sun was warm as it streamed through the window, and he was happy. 

Call It Dreaming (you can have my love) (Rated: NR, Words:15K)

Summary: “Let’s go get married, Buck.” “Let’s get married, baby.” Or, the one where they get married and throw shoes at people

Latke Love (Rated: NR, Words: 4K)

Summary: Becca conveyed the message. There was laughter in the background. “So, what can I do for you?” “I’m pretty sure he has the flu,” he said. “Normally, I’d make my ma’s chicken noodle, but I know how much he looks forward to Hanukkah and the food, and no matter how hard I try, he always kicks me out of the kitchen—” “Just say you have no idea what you’re doing when it comes to Jewish cuisine,” Becca said. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to Jewish cuisine.” Or, Bucky gets the flu over Hanukkah and Steve, with the help of his sister-in-law, makes him food for the Holiday

On the Other Side of the Door (Rated: NR, Words: 11K)

Summary: Me [1:34 pm]: I’m holding you to that, Buck. Screws after dinner. If Dugan kidnaps you, you can tell him I’ll have to find other ways to occupy myself He set his phone back on the table and continued to work. A light knock on the door drew his attention, though he didn’t look up. If he didn’t finish writing his idea, he’d lose it forever. “I’m sorry,” he said as he wrote, frowning. He hadn’t been aware he’d unlocked the door when he’d let himself in. “But I’m not open. If you want to buy, you’ll have to go to the website or wait for normal business hours.” “I was hoping to speak to you, actually.” Or, the one where Joseph Rogers tries to walk back into Steve's life.

Light of a Clear Blue Morning (Rated: NR, Words: 9K)

Summary: “You know I don’t normally do couples therapy.” “I know,” Steve said. He looked at Bucky, who stared at the ground. They hadn’t spoken since returning from Albany. He spun the ring on his finger. His ma’s ring. Steve buried the fresh wave of guilt and grief. “But I trust you.” “What I’m going to have you do is talk to each other,” Dr. Scheinbaum said. She looked at them both. “I’m here to mediate if needed, but the work needs to be done by you. It’s up to you to decide if and how your relationship moves forward. So, my first question to you is this: do you want it to?” Or: the one where Steve runs away and is forced to deal with the consequences

***These fics are complete but the series is not.***

In pursuit of happiness (Rated: E, Words: 30K) by lockedlocke & art by @inflomora-art​

Summary: As a burnout finally catches up with Steve Rogers, he calls his best friend Bucky Barnes for support. Bucky comes over in a heartbeat, intent on helping Steve through his struggles and make him find himself again. The solution after an evening of Spaghetti and watching The Aristocats, is a road trip down to Florida with as many detours as they wish. End goal? Disney world. If there is a place in the world to make Steve feel happy again? It is the happiest place on earth. And should he find love on the way down? All the better...

What’s in a Name? (Rated: M, Words: 85K) by levi_cas_tho / @levicastho & art by maichan / @maichan808

Summary: Following the attack on the Triskelion, the Asset is left injured, confused, and without guidance. Directionless and with no superior to give it orders, it must establish its own protocols. It assigns itself a new mission: gather intel on everything and anything regarding Captain America and Hydra, stay under the radar, and survive. Simple. Except its not. ⭑ ⭑ ⍟ ⭑ ⭑ Featuring a confused and questioning Bucky Barnes who doesn’t know how to handle his newfound freedom, a pining Steve Rogers who doesn’t know how to handle feelings, and the journey of a punk and a jerk as together they rediscover themselves, each other, and what it means to be in love.

The Roommate (Rated: T, Words: 28K) by Niitza / @princessniitza & art by layersofart

Summary: In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word. It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

sweet pea, look at me (Rated: G, Words: 585) by marvellingyou (tourmalinex)

Summary: Steve and Bucky couldn’t be more overjoyed. Sarah Winifred Barnes was the light of their life, and nothing held a candle to her.

A Climb of Passion (Rated: M, Words: 32K) by Zenaidamacrouras1 / @zenaidamacrouras1 & art by britbrit99 (with a special art piece by @buckymilf)

Summary: Steve is a climbing gym coach, and Bucky’s physical therapist suggests climbing as a good outlet for him as he works through both physical injuries and lingering PTSD issues from his time in the service. Also, Steve REALLY WANTS TO KISS BUCKY. May contain: Excessive use of climbing gym terminology. Excessive descriptions of characters running their tongues along their lips. Excessive noticing of Bucky’s thighs. Person with PTSD just trying to get through the damn day with some dignity, ya know? Warnings for: Meddling sisters, not nearly enough mention of Alpine the cat, extremely thirsty boys exercising together. Actual warnings - Body dysmorphia (due to injury/not liking burn scars), brief physical altercation (really, very brief), discussion of PTSD due to military experience, mention of past surgeries, asthma, discussion of depression and therapy. Let me know if I missed anything that is a concern for you, it’s not my intent. Created with (the amazing) artist Britbrit99 as part of Star Spangled (Mini) Bang 2022!

we wear red so they don’t see us bleed (Rated: T, Words: 2K) by unicornpoe

Summary: Bucky sits on the hard wooden bench, back against the cold wall, and stares across the holding cell at the other man. He glares back. Blood on his chin, in his teeth, in his hair; a nasty bruise coming up over the bridge of his nose and around his puffed-up eye. Knuckles split. Sharp chin jutted out at a defiant angle. The collar of his shirt is ripped, and the garment gapes across his clavicle, showing a bruise running up the side of his neck as well. Small, Bucky thinks; all ragged edges and razor-sharp angles. But strong. And pretty. And stupid. *** Bucky and Steve spend one night in a holding cell together. They leave together, too.

Would Iron Man beat Captain America? (Rated: G, Words: 11K) by  cherryblossssom

Summary: “Tony just called me. He said Pepper and him are going to Paris for their anniversary. He asked me to look after Morgan.” Steve said, offering Bucky a beer. The brunet took it, looking up at him. “That’s cute. You gonna do it?” “Yeah, but… I may need your help.” or how our former Captain America and The Winter Soldier watch a kid for one weekend while they sort out their feelings

My Fuckbuddy is... (series) by Minka / @minka-g​

My fuckbuddy is nice to my cat, and other serious problems (that Bucky has at 1 in the morning) (Rated: M, Words: 8K)

Summary: “Hey, girl,” Steve said, crouching down low to scratch Alpine behind the ears. “How’s it going?” Alpine was a fluffy mess under Steve’s hands, rubbing and pressing and meowing like she was the one with a hard-on trapped in jeans that were already far too tight. Bucky watched with a combination of amusement and mild displeasure at being ignored.----When his frequent booty call is nice to his insufferable cat, Bucky starts to worry that his blood is rushing back up to his head.

My fuckbuddy is Captain America and other reality-shattering revelations (that keep Bucky awake at night) (Rated: NR, Words: 12K)

Summary: “Late night infomercial Cap performer?” Bucky asked in one last, ditch-all effort to force this insanity to make sense. “Documentary reenactor?” Steve didn’t look amused, so Bucky took that as a no.------When Bucky’s fuckbuddy (who is inexplicably nice to Bucky’s asshole of a cat) wants to attach strings to their relationship, a whole world of secrets trickle into the light of day. Including, but not limited to, Bucky’s love of vodka.

***These fics are complete but the series is not.***

#givecaptainamericaaboyfriend (Rated: T, Words: 1K) by neversaydie 

Summary: "You will not believe what's trending." "Is it nudes?" Bucky tries to remember the last time he lost his phone in a crowded place. It wasn't that long ago, he loses them a lot because his memory can be pretty patchy about trivial things. "Fuck, is it my nudes?" "Just look." [real Avengers fake MCU universe, Steve is very amused]

New Definitions (series) by midnighttypewriter

New Definitions (Rated: T, Words: 16K)

Summary: Steve chuckled. "Handsome and charming," he said. "Very popular with the dames." He brought his hand to the crown of Bucky's head, ran his fingers through his hair. It was still long and Bucky had never shown any interest to cut it down to his original style; Steve assumed it was here to stay just like the metal arm. He had Bucky back but the Winter Soldier was a part of the package. "Do you remember?" Bucky shrugged. He rolled his face into Steve's touch. "Some things. There're still blank spaces. I know enough to tell when the book's lying."

All the Ways I Love You (Rated: T, Words: 1K)

Summary:  5 times Steve tells Bucky he loves him (and one time Bucky tells Steve). --- In my head it takes place in the same 'verse as New Definitions but you don't have to have read that to understand what's going on.

WIP

Treading Water (Rated: M, Current Words: 151K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace & art by Dyslexic_Fetus / @reagy-jay

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first.

***Part of the series Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) (Rated: E, Current Words: 22K) by dorian_burberrycanary / @burberrycanary

Summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

***Part of the series A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy): The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands) (Rated: G, words: 4K), Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) (Rated: G, Words: 14K), &  Not Language by a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) (Rated: E, Words: 20K)***

Dichotomy (Rated: E, Current Words: 7K) by papesdontsellthemselves / @turtle-steverogers 

Summary: After getting signed to SHIELD Audio Inc., The Commandos have been taking the world by storm. Industry golden boy, Bucky Barnes, is just happy to have a chance to share his music. However, his world threatens to get turned on its head when The Commandos get sent on tour with the Howlies, where Steve Rogers spreads into his life like wildfire, waiting to burn.

[forpiratereasons]

meeting stede bonnet

a slow meandering through June. seventh prompt: rivals

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10

-

“I’m telling you, I saw him. Clear as the nose on my face. Canoodling in the back garden with a bloke in black leather.”

“What sort of canoodling?” Frenchie asked.

Roach wrinkled his nose, trying to remember through the haze of last night. “Touchy-feely,” Roach finally settled on. “They left together.”

“Sorry,” Oluwande said, finally deigning to look up from inventory and tune in. “Did you say Captain left the bar last night with someone?”

“I’ve been saying it all morning, pay attention. He carried some guy right out of the bar and left with him.”

“He carried—?”

“What, like a doll? Are we sure it was a real person?”

“Carried,” Roach affirmed. “Like a bride. And it was definitely a real person because he almost kicked someone in the face on the way out.”

“That was me,” the customer appearing at the counter said, dryly.

Everyone turned to look at him. He was kind of short, greying hair, bit of a goatee. Lots of leather, just like Roach said, and he had the best resting bitch face Roach had ever seen in his life.

Presumably it was resting, anyway.

“Er,” Roach said, looking the guy over. “Our boss carried you out of a bar last night?”

“No.” His voice was soft, raspy, but still managed to enunciate every full stop like it were a threat. “I almost got kicked in the face.”

“Uh, here,” Oluwande said, reaching for the book the guy had in his hand. “Sorry about our boss though. He’s a bit—enthusiastic?”

This didn’t seem to placate him. Instead he sniffed and said, as if it pained him on an existential level, “He was carrying my boss. And he has an appointment at eleven, so if you could tell him Izzy Hands is looking for him—I’m not actually going to buy that, by the way.”

Oluwande looked down at the book he’d handed over—The Wonderful Wizard of Oz—then at Izzy Hands, and nodded like that made sense. Roach privately agreed; he didn’t really seem like a magic and whimsy kind of guy.

“S’only nine,” Frenchie pointed out.

“Takes time to prep a tattooing appointment as complicated as Blackbeard’s.”

Frenchie whistled, long and low. Roach’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes,” Izzy said.

Roach knew who Blackbeard was. Obviously. Everyone knew who Blackbeard was—tattooing legend, the kind who booked out years in advance. And, though Roach didn’t usually vibe any kind of way, generally speaking, even he knew Blackbeard was hot. Long hair and leather and big brown eyes type of hot.

“You sure you’ve got the right establishment?” Roach asked, frowning. “Normal-sized bloke, Disney prince hair, seems a bit clueless sometimes? And like, aggressively optimistic about it? Not nice optimistic—like he might fight you in the street optimistic. That guy?”

The resting bitch face transformed into active bitch face. “I don’t like it either.”

Oluwande had gone back to his inventory like this was not the most fascinating piece of fucking news any of them had ever heard. Lucius was going to shit when he found out. Possibly bake Stede a cake.

“I can text Stede for you, mate, but they’re not here,” Roach said. “Haven’t seen either of them all morning.”

Izzy’s face scrunched up, like he’d just smelled something particularly heinous. “You could call,” he pointed out.

“Not calling my boss while he’s busy with any of that,” Roach shot back. “You could call.”

Izzy shifted uncomfortably, obviously not too keen on calling his boss while Blackbeard was busy with that either. He glared at Roach like that might change anything; it did, but only in that Roach was having more fun with it than he had been before.

Roach raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Izzy said. “Fine!”

“I’ll text for you,” Roach called after him as he stalked away. Izzy gave him the finger, then he was gone.

“So,” Frenchie said, leaning on the counter next to Roach. “Blackbeard.”

“Fucking Blackbeard.”

“Literally, it seems.”

Oluwande jabbed Roach with the end of his pen. “We’re staying out of it, remember.”

There was a pause.

“He’s moving pretty fast, though,” Frenchie mused.

“Pretty fast,” Roach agreed. “Awfully fast, really.”

They both turned to look at Oluwande, who finally put down his pen and sighed. “Fine! Fine. Call an emergency staff meeting—let’s just—take it easy, all right?”

[dollywheeler]

September 29th, 1996

And I say hey-ey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey I said "hey, what's going on?"

I've had this song stuck in my head all morning, still dancing along to it as if I'm still in the gymnasium, my gold dress swirling around me. I don't know why this song - it's not particularly romantic, or fitting to the occasion, doesn't sum up how the evening had felt. Yet, it had been the most magical moment of the entire night.

One moment, dancing with Daniel to Duran Duran, then this song came on, the slow start meaning we didn't break apart yet, trying to stay close as long as possible, but when the chorus hit the entire hall threw their heads back, screaming along in a messy harmony. It felt like a dream, didn't feel quite real, like some kind of movie, when your heart feels full even though you're just watching it play out in front of you. Except, this time I was in the middle of it, screaming along with everyone else, and it felt like I was floating, wishing the moment could less forever.

That's not to say the rest of the evening wasn't just as wonderful. Daniel took me to an actual restaurant, which was a nice change of pace from the dinner, but I honestly can't tell if the food was even worth it. My stomach was too busy swirling with nerves, and I could barely get any food past my lips because we were too distracted talking and laughing. It was wonderful - he was wonderful, looking dapper in his suit and glinting golden in the candle light. As far as first dates go, I'm sure it couldn't have gone any better. Not that I'd know, as this was my first first date, but it felt like a dream, like something that couldn't possibly be real.

It was the perfect blend between familiar and exciting - the comfort of someone you already know, someone you already love spending time with, mixed with the nerve-wracking thrill of a new context, of possibility.

We were having such a great time that we were late to the actual dance, having lost track of time completely during our conversation. Whitney gave me this knowing look about it - I don't think she would have believed me if I'd told her we'd just been talking.

Anyway, we danced and we laughed and gossiped and I didn't even care that Mike and his 'party' or whatever was there. I'd already realised I'd have to get used to them being around the school in every facet - that includes chaperoning school events. The night was too perfect though, and I was not going to let anything darken my mood.

I did get to talk to Max though, and thank her for the birthday gift. She said she'd mostly just said 'yes' or 'no' to things Mike had picked out and it was no big deal but that she was glad I liked it. I also used the moment to ask about everything else - I realised that if Mike won't call to tell her things, I might as well ask someone else for intel. Apparently, Lucas and her still live in Chicago, and she works as a counselor at the blind school she went to after whatever happened had happened. Everyone is always so vague about the details, but I didn't want to ask her directly and force her to relive it. That's one thing that actually is none of my business anyway.

Erica is living with them while she is going to college - she got her Bachelor's last June but just started law school. I can't imagine moving in with Nancy while I'm in college. Don't get me wrong, Nancy's great, but it's college! You're supposed to go out on your own and become independent and stuff. I said as much to Max, but she just shrugged and smiled to herself. She said Erica was happier with them than she'd been at the dorms.

I didn't know how to go from there so I just asked about El. I knew she still visits Hawkins a lot, because opposite to the others, I see her around town sometimes. At Melvalds with Joyce or in the diner with Sheriff Hopper, or alone around the library in the center of town. But there's also stretches of time when I don't see her at all. According to Max she takes a bunch of classes at the community college, but also travels a lot - bouncing between Chicago and San Fran and New York. Max said that whenever Dustin or Jonathan and Nancy have to travel for work, she usually tags along too. I don't know why or how she does all of that, but it sounds like a dream. Yet, at the same time, I think I'd personally hate it.

She seemed happy enough though, and it's obvious she is happy. From across the room I could see that, as always, her smile was wide and her skin warm with a tan, her hair pinned back with clips that clashed with her new pink highlights. Most of the chaperones hadn't bothered dressing up, but she had clearly thought about her outfit, each item carefully picked out to form a particular look, even if it was just jeans and a colorful sweater.

I didn't want to outright ask about Mike or Will, mostly because I know what they're doing right now and asking about Mike felt too much like snooping. Max didn't seem like she was going to mention it on her own, and before I could make up my mind on whether I really wanted to know, Dylan came to drag me back to the dance floor.

It was only after we were taking another break some time later that I realised I still didn't know what Dustin or Lucas are doing. I assume Dustin lives in San Fran, as that's the only reason El would go there as often as Chicago or New York, but I don't know what he does there. Probably some kind of tech company or whatever. And I'm pretty sure I heard Mrs. Sinclair talk about Lucas following in his father's footsteps but honestly I don't even know what he does so that doesn't answer any questions.

Might be something to talk about on Friday to fill awkward silences.

Anyway the dance was amazing, and someone must have succeeded in smuggling in alcohol because there was a girl puking in one of the bathroom stalls before 9 pm. She was nice though, told me she liked my dress. Even that felt magical, despite her smudged make-up and loopy expression, the entire night like a daydream where I was floating on air and nothing could ever be wrong.

There was an after party at Selena's house - I swear kids of divorced parents are raising themselves because somehow their houses are always empty at the most opportune times - but Danny and I decided not to go. I didn't want to risk ruining what had been the perfect evening, and I knew I'd only get more tired and everyone else less sober. It also kept the evening quiet, just Daniel and I in the car as he drove me home, drunk on happiness and singing along to the radio. Last night, it seemed, for once, I hadn't cared about missing out. I still don't.

I mean - nothing could have topped Daniel dropping me off at home, getting out of the car along with me as if he didn't know what he was doing either but had seen a few movies, and walked me up to the front door. I knew dad would already be asleep, but mom would be sitting up in the sitting room like she'd done so many nights before, for so many years on end, waiting for her teenager to get home safe.

I had my jacket draped over my shoulders because it wasn't too cold yet and I liked the air against my arms after the crowded gymnasium. Daniel pretended to pull it tighter around me, only to use it as leverage to draw me closer and kiss me. It feels silly writing it down because there's nothing I can say to really describe it. No words that feel right or do it justice, that explain how I'm blushing all over again just thinking about it, my stomach swirling at the recollection.

All I know is that I wish I was still in that moment, still holding his face in my hand, gently scratching my nail over his cheek, submitting the feeling to memory. But I didn't mind when he pulled away, his face flushed and dark eyes shining in the porchlight, because I got to smile at him and he smiled back, blush deepening as he stepped away and muttered a goodnight, dimples digging into his cheeks where I'd held him.

I watched him go before getting back into the house, finding mom asleep on the couch. It was late for her, I realised, even though it was only a little before twelve, and considered the fact she hadn't had to stay up in a long time - not since Mike had left. I didn't want to wake her but knew I had to - if just to let her know I was home and she wouldn't wake up worried.

I still can't quite believe the night was real.

I really should get the reading done for tomorrow, but I don't want to stop thinking about yesterday. Or tomorrow, when I'll see Daniel again.

Love, Holly <3

[onthewaytosomewhere]

WIP Acrostic Game

ok - so i got a few tags for this over the weekend (and i do luv me a tag game) so i have multiple words for it luckily some of those words share letters - so they'll also share sentences - in THE ONLY FIC I'M OPENNG TODAY - BCUZ IT NEEDS TO BE FINISHED LOLZ (the were/vamp coffee shop (with bonus soulmates that snuck up on me) fic) - also hoping this will make me get ready to whip the words out for this thing lolz

💚thanks bunches for the tags @cha-melodius @caterpills @tailsbeth-writes @fullerthanskippy @anincompletelist

@littlemisskittentoes @kiwiana-writes @sophie1973 @stellarmeadow

HUGE OPEN TAG TO ANYONE WHO MAY NOT HAVE ALREADY DONE THIS OVER THE WEEKEND (and a few tags under the cut for a few peeps just in case lolz)

Rules: From your story/WIP, find sentences that start with each letter of the given word. (oops i forgot the rules lolz)

MY WORD(S): BOLT, PACE, FORK, FIRST, RUSH, FAME, FANG, RINGS - YOUR WORD: SHOP

B -Before becoming one himself, his only contact with any of them had been his sister, June, and her wife, Nora. O -Only a few months in, he has an established overnight rotation of regulars, and they all help each other navigate life in the city. L -Let’s just say that my last case was against some fuckwad werewolf fratboys who had beaten my client, and I realized I wasn’t above a little vigilante justice if they hadn’t been found guilty. T - To this day, he’s afraid that if that hadn’t been the case, he might not have been able to fight the urge to get justice of his own for her. (the fact that there's 2 sentences about this from 2 different parts makes me giggle lolz)

P - Please forget I said that. A - Alex, sometimes, on slow nights, finds himself drawn to just standing behind the counter and watching as Henry is engrossed in what he’s working on that night. C - Completing the bond does not actually require ‘third-date activities’ if you so choose. E - Either way, he feels as if they’re one—as if they’re not separate beings but two parts of one whole.

F - From what we were told when we had you checked out, the fact that you’re a werewolf is the only reason you are alive currently. O - SEE ABOVE R -Raf understands as a lycan himself, but having been born one, he has more control, not just from the years of experience. K - NONE

F - SEE ABOVE I - I was here in this club, and there was this guy … R - SEE ABOVE S - So, while the sign reads ‘closed’ after 9 pm, you can say that is when the real “nightlife” happens. T - SEE ABOVE

R - SEE ABOVE U - Unfortunately, what Liam told you about my family and their messed-up rules about claiming vamps we sire is true S - SEE ABOVE H - He hates to think about it, but he still wonders if the realization hadn’t happened if he might still be working his way to partner in Raf’s law firm.

F - SEE ABOVE A - SEE ABOVE M - Might as well get a jump on making sure everything is ready for Nora and the morning crowd, as it looks like this will be one of his slower nights. E - SEE ABOVE

F - SEE ABOVE A - SEE ABOVE N - Nora thinks the irony that Alex’s big bi-revelation leads to him being turned means something. G - Granted, some of it he ‘overhears’ due to enhanced senses, but anything too sensitive, he’s learned to keep to himself.

R - SEE ABOVE I - SEE ABOVE N - SEE ABOVE G - SEE ABOVE S - So he waits for Henry to speak again, letting the silence hang between them. (this letter was already used as well but i felt bad this word had no sentences lolz)

💚tag ur it!! @adreamareads @typicalopposite @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @thinkof-england @piratefalls

@priincebutt @judasofsuburbia @suseagull04

just in case you didn't already do this!! 😘💚

now i'm off to switch the laundry and finish this thing lolz

[what-eats-owls]

As promised, the FAQ for The Fallow Year! Text version below cut:

How does the math work?

For non-math girlies: the more people preorder at independent bookstores, the faster the stories will be released. For the fellow human spreadsheets: imagine two fundraising thermometers, one for preorders overall, and one for indie store preorders. Each one has a goal for first story, second, third, etc., and once one of them clears that goal, the story gets posted. So the first story will be released once we clear either 100 indie preorders, or 200 preorders overall. Fast forward a bit: the seventh story will be released when we clear either 700 cumulative indie preorders, OR 1400 preorders overall.

What qualifies as an independent bookstore?

No big nationwide chains/corporations like Amazon, B&N, Half-Price Books, Waterstones, Target, etc., Small local chains/stores will count. So will Bookshop dot org orders, but most indie stores can and will take online orders and ship to you.

What if we don’t clear all the goals?

That’ll sure be embarrassing for me! But really, if that happens, I’ll release whatever stories we have left…the day before Holy Terrors comes out.

Can you still read HT without reading these?

Yes. TFY previews a couple things that show up in HT, but you can skip them and be fine.

What if I’m waiting for a special edition/it’s not available in my country yet?

That’s okay! I suspect this campaign is going to slow down after the initial flurry, so later preorders will come in handy then.

Is this the only preorder campaign?

It’s too early to talk preorder campaigns with my publishers, but hold onto those receipts!

Is each story in multiple POVs?

One POV per story, and it alternates; about a month passes between each too. Emeric will start us off on the morning of May 1st, then the second story will shift to Vanja in June.

Why AO3?

Low barrier of entry plus ease of use. Anyone can read the posts with or without an account, there’s no character limit, and let’s be real: it’s kind of hilarious.

If you have any other questions, feel free to send them in, and I’ll get to them as I can!

[lotuslovers]

‘Running from love’ // t.r part 4

Pairing: female!potter(james’ sister) x Tom Riddle

wc: 1.6 k

Summary: In the past, the reader hadn't hope to fall in love with him, their goal was to prevent the rise of the Dark Lord but nothing seemed to go as planned when they are sent back into the future. In the months following the return, Tom Riddle continues to haunt their nightmares and their new reality as he closes in on them. How can an old love cause so much harm? 

Trigger warnings: none

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | tbc

How does one set up a meeting with the Dark Lord? I suppose you can’t just owl his assistant for available time slots. She had no clue about his whereabouts so she decided it was time to owl one of their closest friends, Abraxas Malfoy. After a long drawn out night, she attempted to compose a letter by rewriting it time and time again until she knew it was sculpted to perfection. She sent the letter off in a black envelope to the owl post office to be set out. The letter read:

Dear Abraxas,

It comes in time where I reach back out to you, to my dismay it is under these circumstances. I understand it has been many years, decades since you have last heard from me but hopefully you haven't forgotten me. My letter regards my Tom, the attached letter is to reach him, I haven’t a clue where he is so if you could pass it to him I would be thankful. My friend, hopefully you are well, I am doing quite fine, I can’t address what happened to me or why I disappeared, that is for another letter. How are things? Must be a lot of things we can address in the future, perhaps over a cup of tea, you always told me those were for serious talks. Until then and when I am ready, this will be all until I send a letter back. You mustn’t send a letter in response or attempt to charm one my may, I prefer my location a secret. So be kind enough to not try for all attempts will fail. Best regards, Malfoy.

Sincerely,

Y.O’C

P.s please make sure Tom personally gets it and only he reads it. 

Tom’s letter read:

Dear Tom,

My dearest, I never intended to leave all those years ago. I intended to stay with you, to love you to my best capability, to perhaps have you round’ my folks home, meet my family, get married, have kids, and grow old together. Our time together was cut short, for reasons I must’n disclose in a letter but in person. I will explain it all if you will let me. I know what you have done yet I still love you as much as the last day I had in your presence, I ask that you give me a chance to explain. You don’t have to but I wish to at least explain, in case I get my Tom back to me or atleast get closure for the both of us. If you are willing to meet me, I ask you don’t be angry with me and you come alone as I will. The location hasn’t been chosen yet, as I haven’t thought of a place but I will send an owl to Abraxas to give to you as I don’t know your location, I trust you will abide by my wishes and wait for my owl. Meet me at 12 pm on June 16, location will be owled at a later date. I love you Tom, please don’t ever forget it. 

Sincerely yours,

Y.O’C

∞

Sending the letter was half the trouble, the real issue was following through with the meeting. I hoped it would only be me and him but even just the two of us alone had uneased myself. Besides Regulus, no one knew I had gone to meet him and even then he had no idea the date or location of where it was agreed.

On the brisk morning, I apparated to a small secluded area in the English countryside. Walking along the cobblestone steps, slowing up to the dark mahogany doors of the long gone manor I pulled the cloak closer over my head. The grand house succumbed to the vines that began to grow up the sides of the once incredulous architecture. The family home of the Riddles had long gone, becoming an estate, only being in good enough condition to still stand. When preventing Tom from killing his father, his dad started a new family that continued the line. Here I was shivering with the knowledge he would be inside waiting for me, possibly awaiting to kill me but he hadn’t yet so I continued. Pushing the door open, a small squeak of the rusty hinges let out through the air before returning to silence as I closed it behind me. The layout of the house reminded me of the Malfoy Manor, tall doors lining the walls ushering out to separate wings or presumed ballrooms and the giant sturdy staircase lined with oil portraits. I wondered how different he would have turned out if Tom Riddle SR. accepted to raise him, instead of being stuck with the croon Mrs. Cole. 

The farthest door on the left was ajar, the faint light of a fire along with candles were the only indications of another person being here with me. Making sure to pull my hood over my eyes whilst tucking my wand in my pocket I sturdied myself before opting to continue down the hall. Silence hung through the air besides the content click of my boots on the wooden floor, passing a few door frames I made it to the open one. Peering into the room, it appeared to be a study lined with bookshelves filled to the brim with a variety of books. In the center of the room was a lit fireplace in front of a set of couches. The center couch was a dark figure of a man, she knew it was him from the moment she set eyes on his side profile. 

The posture was a give away, along with the book he held in his palms, his diary. His hair was in a tight set of dark brown curls, his skin gleamed with warmth allowing it to dance along his face, his posture was perfect but loose, in his hand opposite to his diary was a cup of firewhiskey, his face was hardly a day older then when you last saw him. Your presence was known but he didn’t glance your way, hiding behind your cloak and the shadows just basking in the way his presence calmed you. Finally closing his book before setting his cup down he spoke “i supposed you would use her as a rouise eventually Albus, such a pity you had to be the first to die in this disgraced house” he twirled his hand before his wand appeared out of thin air.

Glancing up at the doorway, his eyes burned with full fury as he assumed Dumbledore was here. But fearing the worse you spoke softly “Tommy” he instantly froze. 

 “y/n?” his voice shook as you nodded behind shadows of the low pulled hood. “Come on, I know this is a  trick, Dumbledore give up and show yourself” he pointed his wand at you, shaking his anger as he stood up abruptly. Seeing him in person was surreal, you were sure tears were streaming down your face, still hiding in the shadows. “It's me Tom” you spoke, approaching him, faced down as your voice broke. “It can’t be” he said, almost trying to convince himself but in an instant he surged toward you, pinning you to the wall. 

He dug his wand up your jugular where it lay just on top of your pulse point, just as he had so many times in those awful nightmares. His rough palms grabbed your chin, finally lifting it to meet his eager gaze. Tilting it up so far that your hood sunk down, revealing her face to his eager eyes. Standing inches away from his face as he let the shock set it. His breath hitches in his throat, his shoulders tensed before he dropped his wand and pulling you into a tight hug. Nuzzling up into your hair, he caressed your cheek and drank in your appearance as if it was the last thing he got to see. “It's been years, why have you just found me my love” he spoke finally letting his own sobs echo through the air. “why don't you look a day older than when I last saw you?” he mumbled into her hair as he pulled you closer down to his shoulder. You finally broke, “Oh Tom, I missed you so much. I can explain everything I promise just let me hug you”. The experience was surreal, he picked you up to bring you both to the couch. Lying cuddled up, his deep breaths tethered you to reality. He had aged in the past decades, the young boy now grew into an older man. The dark brown hair of his was now parted in the middle with loose curls now framing an older more angular face. His eyes sparkled in a new sheen, the past version you knew was so far away. 

“Can you explain now?” he asked, lifting a hand to rub the hot tears off your cheeks. 

“I will” she said, but now nothing was certain. He had wanted to kill her, but now he hadn’t. He had only wished to when he thought she was Albus, only then was she truly in danger. Now, his aged self comforted the girl in such a scenario no one would have expected. How could she admit the truth, how she existed then only to prevent his own casualties? Could anyone reason to the implication that she loved him to save him, how could he react?

She wanted to greedily enjoy the silence between the both, pretending they had fallen asleep on the Slytherin homeroom’s couch again when they were young. But they weren’t kids anyone, she had lived this year of her life two times already and for Riddle he soaked up the decades away from her, building his power. They had both changed, now they only held ideas of one another but they wanted so badly to fall back in time to before the night their whole worlds paused. 

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 7

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.8K

Author's Note: This chapter is very intense. It has descriptions of Leon having an anxiety/PTSD attack. and the reader uses a real method to calm him down! READ THIS CHAPTER WITH CAUTION.

Masterlist

June 2004

And I don’t mind, if it’s me you need to turn to

We’ll get by

It’s the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made in these small hours

These little wonders

-Little Wonders, Rob Thomas

They say that the first few moments after you wake up are the most confusing part of any day, or at least that’s what Mom used to say as her justification for never waking us up with a list of chores. We’d forget it. That statement rings clear as a bell through my mind as I peek my eyes open the slightest bit, wondering if I accidentally fell asleep in my hoodie again due to the thin layer of sweat that coats my skin. Leon got home last night, I patched him up, and then…

The scent of pine brings my attention forward, eyes finally adjusting to the sight in front of me. Leon’s slowly rising bare chest as my head rests against his bent arm, supporting his head with his hand and mine with his surprisingly comfortable bicep. Other arm slung over my waist, keeping our torsos snuggly together while our legs are tangled together. His soft snores. I thought he fell asleep on my chest. We must have shifted in our sleep. Eyelashes resting against his cheeks until they flutter slightly. Well that explains why I’m sweating so much. Man is a heater.

A blush slowly spreads across my face, growing as his eyes peel open, like the calming waters after a storm, noses brushing against each other and for a brief second, I swear his gaze flits to my lips.

“Morning.” The intoxicating feeling of his breath warming my lips threatens to drag me underwater, drowning me in the thought of his taste, his smell, his everything.

“Morning,” I whisper back, as if breaking the silence would shatter this precious moment, and for all I know, it might.

“You sleep okay? Hope my moving around didn’t wake you,” he mumbles, his own volume dropping in response. Words fly away from my mind like the butterflies in my stomach, leaving only my ability to nod. He shifts, palm now pressing against the small of my back, as if he can’t bear the thought of me crawling away. As if I would want to. Leon finally truly wakes up, wide eyes appearing for a breath of a second before he pulls back and shifts, pulling his body up into a sitting position. Away from me. He yawns, chest puffing out as his arms stretch up toward the ceiling. “Want some breakfast?” He asks, turning to look at me expectantly.

“Sure. I don’t have a whole lot though, I needed to go grocery shopping today.”

“Do you want company?”

“Love some company.”

The store isn’t nearly as full as it usually is, given it’s a weekday. The cry of a baby occasionally, a squeaky cart wheel, a stack of something falling over. All sounds I’ve grown accustomed to while here.

Leon however, is not. It’s not hard to see how on edge he is, eyes scanning up and down the aisle every few seconds, and I make a conscious effort to speed up my pace, grabbing items as quickly as possible and tossing them into the cart. His hands clench, and at a louder sound like a cough or sneeze, or even the intercom clicking on, his hands flitch for his belt. I don’t quite understand why until I realize he’s probably got his gun. As if he leaves home without it. Fingers lacing through his and squeezing, drawing his attention to me, his chest rising and falling faster than what is probably healthy.

“I’m right here,” I reassure as I reach up for a can of corn on a higher shelf. Refusing to release my hand, he grabs it easily with his other hand, placing it in the cart for me.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re also a shitty liar.” Tugging him into the last aisle for bread. “You know, you could have stayed home.”

“I didn’t want you going alone.” It finally dawns on me. He’s on edge for his own life, but also for mine. Leon silently gives my hand a gentle squeeze, placing a loaf of bread into the cart. “Anything else?” I shake my head with a small smile.

“Nope. Let’s go checkout.”

The line passes quickly, and we load food items onto the conveyer belt quickly but carefully. Leon steps up to the cashier, handing her enough cash to cover the bill while I begin to bag things, shooting him a frustrated glare at him paying for the whole thing. It seemed like he was finally calming down, adjusting to the sounds and sensations of the store. Then it went to shit.

The high pitched scream of a little girl somewhere further in surprises everyone, immediately attempting to locate the source before the sound shifts to a fit of giggles. The people around us visibly deflate, relieved at the assurance that everything was okay. I even chuckle to myself for getting so worked up, loading the last bag into the cart.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Leon.

His eyes are wide in the direction of the screech, hand resting on his belt where I assume his concealed holster is, and each muscle is tensed so tightly, I’m surprised the fabric of his compression shirt hasn’t torn at the seams. He’s not here anymore. I take fast steps toward him, his name leaving my lips as my hand comes up to rest on his forearm but he reacts faster, fingers locking tightly around my wrist, and I have to physically swallow the yelp of pain from his grip. He spins, fear soaked eyes practically pinning me beneath his stare, pupils blown, hiding the blues I have come to love so much. The cashier moves from the corner of my eye, reaching for her phone.

“It’s okay, ma’am.” I need to level my voice, or she’ll get the police involved, some bullshit investigation as to whether my roommate was abusing me or not. “Everything is fine.” I smile, burying the tears threatening to spring into my eyes. I’m not talking to her. “Everything is fine.” The grip loosens, and by the time I look back at Leon, his breath is coming in fast pants, face pointed downward as if trying to steady himself by looking at the floor, hands pressed into his pockets almost painfully. I gently grab his wrist, tugging him along with me as we step out into the fresh summer air. Leading him to the car is easy enough, his movements supporting mine before I stop, throwing everything into the backseat as carefully as I can. “Do you wanna get in the car?” I ask, but he’s not listening, eyes glazed over, unfocused. I need to get him in the car so he can calm down. Deciding to put the cart away later, I pull him to the passenger door, before practically shoving him inside and closing the door with a gentle whoosh. Driver door flying open as I clamber in, hands cupping his face, turning it toward me.

“Leon?” Nothing. “Leon, I just need you to look at me, can you do that?” Hazy blues lifting to mine, paralyzed in this moment. ‘What did they do to you?’ My heart screams. “Can you breathe with me?” A shaken head. Eyes wandering, fingers clenching almost painfully, dark crimson leaking from closed fists. He’s hurting himself. Scrambling across my center console, legs ending up on either side of his thighs, straddling his waist. Fingers grabbing his hands, unwrapping them to place them on my thighs before squeezing over them. Squeeze me. Don’t hurt yourself. Pushing his jaw up, forcing his gaze on me once more. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to try to breathe with me.” In and out. In and out. In and out. Please Leon. Please.

His breaths are shaky and rough, patchy, as if his lungs have holes torn in them, releasing the minimal air he’s taking in, but he’s fucking breathing. “Can you do something for me, Leon?” He’s not speaking, but, with eyes still locked on me, he nods.

5. “What are 5 things you can see right now?”

“You.” His voice is trembling. I can practically feel my heart splintering inside my chest.

“Good. What else?”

“Yellow of your shirt.” I nod encouragingly. “Your radio has green numbers.” Good. “The red straw of the cup in your cupholder.” One more. “Your keychain has a picture of you and your sister on it.”

4. “What are 4 things you can feel right now? Physically.”

“Your hands on my jaw.” One. “The seat under me.” Two. “My hands on your legs.” Three. “The sweat on my forehead.” Four. Good.

3. “What are 3 things you can hear?”

“Your voice.”

“Mhm. Good.”

“Birds outside of the car.” One more, Leon. “The blood pounding in my ears.”

2. “What are 2 things you can smell?”

“The car’s air freshener. It’s lavender.”

“Good nose.” I whisper, trying to bring a smile to my own face in reassurance.

“Your perfume. It’s vanilla.”

“You’re doing really well, Leon.”

1. “What is 1 thing you can taste?”

“I don’t know, I can’t-” My hands find the gum in my center console, unwrapping it and offering it to him. He opens his mouth without question, refusing to break eye contact as I pop the spearmint strip into his mouth. He chews it, the familiar flavor and texture seemingly bringing him a sense of calm. 

“What is one thing you can taste, Leon?”

“My gum.”

A deep sigh of relief. His breathing has returned to normal and his hands aren’t twitching as they bounce between clenching hard enough to bruise and a tender caress. His lids are closed now, head resting back against the headrest, chin tilted up exposing the thick column of his throat. The temptation to press my lips to his pulse point is overwhelming, but I refrain, taking a few of my own steadying breaths in through my mouth as to not inhale more his cologne.

“I hurt you.” Glancing down, I notice the bright red skin of my wrist that is absolutely going to bruise within the next few hours.

“It’s fine, Le-”

“And I ruined your jeans.” His hands are off my pants, blood staining the denim dark brown, almost black where I put his hands.

“Leon, I’d rather have stained pants than for you to hurt yourself,” I confess, before cracking a smile at him. “Plus, I’m a girl. I need to know how to get blood out of pants at least once a month.” He cracks a smile. My heart stutters. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He nods, hands helping me back into the driver's seat before I start the car with a hum. His eyes follow the soon-to-be bruise on my wrist, and I can already tell that this is going to haunt him. Pulling out of the parking lot with practiced ease, I reach over, setting my hand on top of his and squeezing gently. Then it hits me.

I admitted to loving him. Only in my head, but…

Holy shit. I love him.

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088