#and now it's over 3k!!

[brighteuphony]

Gonna bundle these two questions! (ALSO SPICY AT THE BOTTOM)

Sakura had one 'relationship' and that was/is with Aren Uzumaki.

Some backstory:

On their way back from Chiyo's, Saeko, Enji and Sakura were unable to port back in Tea Country- as the civil war came into full effect, and an embargo was placed on all the major ports in an attempt to cripple trade/starve out the big trading cities/ take control of the capital (which was on the coast).

For a few weeks, Sakura and Co. were prisoners on an enemy ship that captured the previous Daimyo's niece, Unami (now heir apparent, given that the rest of her family was murdered).

On their way towards the capital (for a nice public execution), they were boarded by famed Pirate Captain/Smuggler Aren Uzumaki of The Last Sparrow- who took them aboard along with the rest of the spoils.

As the enemy closed all the ports, Sakura realized they would never make it to land for the foreseeable future and offered her services as a healer for the duration of the war in exchange for Saeko, Enji's, and Unami's safety.

Furthermore, Enji helped Unami cut a deal with Aren, in which he was promised legitimacy and exclusive trading contracts with the South under her future rule. Thus, the Last Sparrow became the Command Center for the Civil War for the next eight months.

During that time, Sakura healed, fought, and hassled Aren into teaching her basic strategy, war, and bureaucracy - something the Captain (and Unami) realized she had a good head for. (Sakura would later serve as Unami's consul after the war).

As for Aren, he is extremely intelligent, shrewd, and a powerful fuinjutsu specialist. He's a respected captain and only chose the pirate/smuggler life after the decimation of the Uzumaki clan. When Konoha didn't come to their aid in time during the third war, Aren swore never to be beholden to a shinobi village and took to the seas, denouncing shinobi-hood.

Sakura approached Aren and asked to spend the night with him on the eve of the last battle, and had an on-again, off-again relationship after the war. Aren's first love was the sea, and Sakura never wanted to be second (or third) place in anyone's life ever again, so while they aren't in any official relationship, they do find themselves in each other's arms when they cross paths. (fun fact, Aren calls Sakura 'Wildflower')

When Kankuro was poisoned, The Last Sparrow (legal now!!!) had fortuitously docked at one of Fire Country's port cities. So they could take that to Suna and cut a week off their travel time.

Kakashi was surprised to see that Aren and Sakura knew each other.

He was very unpleasantly surprised to see HOW well they knew each other. He spent a full week seething- as he watched some sleazy Icha-icha knock-off pirate Lothario take advantage of Sakura.

Once again, thank you so much for the lovely words and all the support for this AU!

SPICY UNDER CUT.

[stevebabey]

no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away. 

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

— 

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

[girlsdads]

don't get that sinking feeling

(maxiel, explicit, 2.7k)

That’s definitely a guy in his bed. Daniel can see a sliver of soft, wrinkled ball skin between the cradle of those plush thighs. And if he looks closer—yep, that’s one of his mustache hairs pasted to the guy’s crack with what looks like dried lube. He supposes that explains the taste of literal ass that’s clinging to his tongue.

thank you Ford for turning daniel into a loser DJ with a beer gut. watched that video and thought, max could simultaneously fix him and make him worse 😌

[youling-the-ghost]

mornings with him – a ditch ficlet

Derek found comfort in his strange yet endearing morning routine. word count: 800

A ray of sunlight peeped through the curtains and cascaded itself onto Derek's bed, jolting him awake. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 6 AM. Derek groaned and dragged a hand down his face, cringing at the stubble that covered his chin—he felt like a teenager, all gangly limbs and awkward changes to his body that he hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. It was comforting, in a way.

Derek sat up—or at least, tried to sit up. He almost succeeded before a pair of arms dragged him back into the bed, snuggling him into the pile of blankets and pillows. Derek let out a muffled cry of protest, but the arms didn't relent.

"Love," Derek said, the words buried in an airy laugh. "I need to make breakfast."

Titch groaned and leaned his body onto Derek's so that there was basically no space between their bodies, nestling his face into Derek's neck.

"Breakfast can wait..." he murmured. "I'm cold."

"It's August," Derek deadpanned. To be honest, he was overheating in Titch's arms and the blankets.

When Titch showed no signs of letting go, Derek sighed and resorted to his contingency plan; he grabbed the arms that held him hostage and pried them open, which proved to be quite a difficult task—despite what his stature might suggest, Titch was incredibly strong.

In the sliver of time that he bought himself, Derek lunged forward and dove out of the bed, landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

Titch mumbled some nonsense, incoherent and jumbled by a half-conscious brain, in protest. Derek planted an apologetic kiss on Titch's cheek and ruffled his blonde hair, which had a golden sheen from the sunlight that peeked through the curtains.

Derek snuck one last glance at his lover, whose face smoothed into a tranquil expression as he presumably returned to dreamland, and found himself smiling. He had come a long way, both of them had. It felt like just yesterday when Titch was lighting candle after candle, refusing to sleep until the first crack of dawn peeked through the night.

Derek grimaced at his reflection; his hair was sticking up in every direction, and he was in desperate need of a shave. He patted his hair in a vain attempt to school it, but the pile of curls immediately stuck back out again. Derek sighed in defeat and decided that he'd bother with his rebellious hair some other time, instead shifting his attention to everything else that needed fixing.

Shaving was something that caused Derek intense annoyance and euphoria in the strangest of oxymorons. The act itself was tedious, and if he had the option to, Derek would absolutely choose to never have to pick up a razor again.

But in a way, the razor in his hand and the shaving cream on his face represented progress that he never thought would be possible. It was a symbol of his growth, his comfort in his own body, which was beautiful despite all the tediousness.

Derek flinched as an improperly-angled movement caused a shallow gash across his cheek. He could do without all the blood that he had drawn in the process of learning this strange aspect of manhood, though.

The shaving cream washed off his face with a splash of water and Derek dragged a hand across his now-smooth skin. It felt like velvet between his fingers. Derek smiled. He was proud of himself.

The pink apron was an essential part of the cooking process, and this was only partially a joke.

Strangely enough, all of Derek's best and fluffiest flapjacks were made while he donned the frilly baby pink apron that James got Titch as a joke for Christmas one year. It was a strange phenomenon that was difficult to explain every time someone asked why he was working in the fields while wearing something that looked like it belonged to a Barbie playset.

Lost in thought about aprons, Derek barely noticed the arms that snaked around his waist.

Derek chuckled. "Good morning, love," he said without turning around. "So you finally woke up, huh?"

"Mornin'," Titch mumbled into Derek's shirt.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that the Titch currently clinging onto him like a koala on a eucalyptus tree was the same standoffish, emotionally closed-off Titch that he was first introduced to years ago.

Derek didn't bother shrugging Titch off. He didn't mind the physical contact; he quite enjoyed it, actually. The two stayed like that in silence, with the only noise in the room being the ambient sizzling of the pan and whirring of the range hood.

"I love you," Derek said as he placed a finished flapjack onto a plate.

"Yeah."

Derek knew that it was Titch's way of saying, "I love you too."

[deoidesign]

Just a reminder, I have a patreon!!!

I've been working on actually making stuff to post more often for the lower tiers, and have been consistently doing so!

I post at least a few sketches and drawings every month for the $1 and up patrons

and I've been working on episodes and sharing some updates with my $5 and up patrons

And I have a merch club for $15 a month, but there's still some $10 slots left! I design and send usually a postcard and some stickers to my patrons every month, but sometimes I'll do some experimental stuff; last month I did foil prints, for instance, and a few months before I made magnets!

It also gets you access to private channels in my discord server, where I ask for patron input on things like the merch or drawings, and where I sometimes stream while working :)

Buuuut also, even if you don't want any of this stuff, it's a great way to support me directly if you like my work! I'm still on hiatus so I'm not making any money from work at the moment, but I'm working hard and my patreon enables me at least to buy my groceries!

Here's the link one more time, no pressure of course but I need to promote my patreon more so people actually know it exists haha

[reading-writing-dying]

Finished editing next chapter of the Hotguy/Cuteguy Love-square fic, now the question is do I post now or wait until my original planned date of Friday/Saturday?

[glossysoap]

i’d like to officially admit to being wrong in regards to phones being equal to computers when writing. i apologize, i was not familiar with your game

computers >>

[httpiastri]

dear everyone,

a while ago, i hit 1.5k followers on this blog.... i didn't want to get too sappy but i really wanted to write something, so:

the fact that over one and a half thousand individuals follow me is truly insane and too much for my little brain to grasp. i want you to know that i'm so extremely thankful for each and every single one of you and this makes me so so so happy. this is way more than i ever had expected when creating this blog.

i made this account back in june purely for my own enjoyment; i created it mainly because i was disappointed in myself for having stopped writing, since writing has been such a big part of my life since forever. ever since i stopped writing about kpop, i had barely written anything at all... i made this account just for fun with no pressure and no expectations, and before i knew it, this blog turned into something so special for me. the blog, all of the people i've met through it and all of the moments we've shared, all mean the world to me.

honestly, i'm not sure what i would do right now if i didn't have this blog and this community. these last few months have been pretty rough for me, but i've always been able to come back on here and gain a smile or some laughter. you've all helped me so much, even if unintentionally – every single interaction helps me push forward. i'm eternally grateful for every single like, comment, reblog and ask i've received on here, and your kind words really do mean the world to me. i don't know where i would be without you.

i hit 1k a while ago but didn't celebrate it properly, so i decided to make an 1k/1.5k-celly that i will be releasing soon (when i have more time to actually write)(hopefully at the start of december). please stay tuned!

and once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all so so so much. you truly are the best. 🧡🧡

[enden-k]

According to the leaks Kaveh and Alhaitham will appear in Cyno's story quest.

Kaveh has 71 lines and Alhaitham has 49.

people already told me abt 4ggravate appearance enough, its no news but thanks anyway.

[romaritimeharbor]

how the fuck do you write so fast im kind of scared of you

hehe. secret 🤭🫶

[silverskye13]

Random question you don’t have to answer, but how far ahead in chapters are you in terms of writing vs what’s posted on AO3? Are you posting the minute you fully finish a chapter, or are you writing chapters in chunks and posting when you can?

Currently posted up to date. I previously had a "buffer" [tried to stay 3 chapters ahead, and post on a weekly/tenday basis] but most recently I had to dismantle my backlog to fix a plot hole, so it's instant posting.

I would like to get a little bit of a buffer again in the future, but the problem with buffers is they give me the chance to go, "Wait this isn't perfect. I should fix this." As opposed to what I usually do, which is, "Oh that could've been cooler. That's fine! I will find a way to integrate this later and/or I will find a way to write around this problem."

[Or alternatively, force myself to let it go, because it's a fanfic and if it isn't perfect, who cares? No one.]

So I don't think I can have more than 1 or 2 chapters written ahead now. Know thy limits and all that.

[delta-piscium]

part 2 | this is part two to this from Steve's perspective leading up to and including part one | cw unresolved angst [unfinished/for now not being worked on]

31 days until moving day.

Steve burst through the door to Family Video, swinging it open with way too much force. 

Robin jumps and opens her mouth, probably to tell him off for scaring her but he speaks before she gets the chance. 

“Eddie asked me to move to Chicago with him,” he blurts out, “Robin, he asked me to go with him.” 

Her eyes widen, “what did you say?” 

“That I’d go, of course,” he huffs. Like it’s even a question? like not going was ever an option?

Robin jumps over the counter squealing and hugs him so tight breathing becomes a little bit hard. 

“I’m moving away with Eddie,” he whispers into her hair, awed as he hugs her back. She somehow squeezes him even tighter and they stay like that for a minute until they have to actually do their jobs. 

An hour passes and Robin keeps shooting him contemplative looks.

“What?” He finally snaps after getting tired of waiting for her to say what she wants to say herself. 

She jumps again like she didn’t realize how obvious she was being, which honestly, she probably didn’t.

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“Robin,” he whines.

“Okay, just,” she scrunches her face up a bit and Steve knows that face, she’s trying to figure out how to say something to him she thinks he’ll react badly to. 

He narrows his eyes at her, bracing himself, “yes?” 

“I think you and Eddie are great together, and like I love you both and I am excited for you guys. You know that right?”

Steve nods, doesn’t say anything though, wants her to get to the point.

“I’m just also, maybe, a little bit worried.”

Steve’s eyebrows draw together, “what do you mean?” 

Robin is looking around nervously. Something heavy starts to form in Steve’s stomach. 

“You haven’t been together for very long and this is a big step. I just don’t wanna see either of you get hurt you know? I guess I’m just wondering if you’ve talked it all through? Because both of you have a tendency to jump into things without thought.”

They haven’t talked it through, not really. Eddie asked Steve to move, he said yes and that was pretty much it. It didn’t feel like they needed to talk it through though? Did they? Usually, they just dealt with things as they became relevant, that had worked for them so far. 

Robin must see something on his face because she quickly talks again, backtracking and interrupting his thoughts. 

“Not that I don’t think it will be great, you know I just worry about things a lot. This is my anxiety talking. You know what, ignore everything I just said. You two know what you’re doing.” 

He doesn’t want her to know she’s already put doubts in his head so even though he’s starting to freak out a little he smiles and shakes his head. 

“It’s fine Rob, I’m sure we will talk more with time.” 

22 days until moving day.

Steve meant it when he said he and Eddie would talk. Meant to ask about the logistics, meant to make sure they were on the same page, he really did. But every time the move comes up Eddie just seems so sure about it already. Steve doesn’t want to make him think he’s having second thoughts. Thinks maybe it’s better to not say anything, to wait and let it come up naturally. 

He thinks maybe they’ll talk about it tonight. The kids had joked about them all evening, about how fast they were moving.

Mike had made some snarky comment about them moving to a city where they knew no one and how awkward it would be if they crashed and burned and they’d have to share a bedroom. 

Eddie had laughed, said it was good they weren’t gonna crash and burn then. But, he’d also added that his band was also going so actually he would know people. 

It was just jokes, Steve knew that. That didn’t make it any less true though. Steve wouldn’t have anyone except Eddie, sure he liked the guys in his band but they weren’t his friends. Steve would have Eddie and Eddie would have his band. It suddenly seemed like a big deal.

He expects Eddie to also feel it, to get worried and bring it up but he doesn’t. If he is worried he isn’t saying anything, just like Steve isn’t.

8 days until moving day.

There’s a knock on Steve's door and when he opens Gareth is standing there. Steve is a lot confused about it but lets him in. 

“Uh,” he starts a little unsure, “do you want anything to drink or?” He offers, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to say or do. 

Gareth shakes his head, looking about as uncomfortable as Steve feels. Shuffling around where he’s standing and fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. “No, I’m gonna leave again soon. I just came here to say something.” 

Steve gestures for him to speak, “I’m listening.” 

Gareth doesn’t immediately say anything, he shuffles some more and looks around the room before his eyes land on Steve again, a determined look in them. 

“Look, I like you. I know Eddie loves you.”

Steve can’t help but smile a little at that, even though he’s starting to suspect he’s in for a shovel talk. 

“And like, I probably wouldn’t do this if it weren’t for the fact that you haven’t dated for very long at all and are about to move in together in a city four hours away.”Gareth pauses and waits to speak again until Steve nods, showing he’s listening. 

“Eddie does things without thinking. He doesn’t think about the consequences, not anything, just does. I love that about him, it’s the reason our band has gotten anywhere at all, but it also means that he gets hurt a lot, disappointed a lot. He can handle it with most things, he won’t be able to handle it with you.”

“What are you saying?” Steve asks even though he’s pretty sure he already knows. 

Gareth looks pained but continues, “I’m saying that if you aren’t one hundred percent sure about moving with him, if you have any doubts at all, you can’t go.”

Steve can’t suppress his flinch. He expected Gareth to say he needed to be sure, that if he wasn’t he needed to tell Eddie. He wasn’t expecting him to say he shouldn’t, no, couldn’t go. 

Gareth catches it and narrows his eyes, “I mean it Steve, it will break him more if you go, let him think it’s gonna work and then leave, then if you don’t go at all.” He steps closer to Steve, getting into his space. “So, if you’re not absolutely sure,” he pauses, steps even closer, “Do. Not. Go.” He punctuates every word and then he turns on his heel and leaves.

6 days until moving day.

Steve needs to talk with Eddie about it now, can’t ignore it anymore. He isn’t gonna just not go like Gareth told him to do. No, he’ll talk to Eddie and it will be fine. 

They’re in his bed together, laying next to each other. Skin touching skin and a comfortable silence between them. Now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, Eddie?” 

“Mhh?” He hums, shifting slightly next to him. 

“What happens if something goes wrong when we move?” 

Eddie snorts, “what? Like if we get a flat wheel? I know how to change a wheel, sweetheart.” 

Steve smiles despite his nerves, tries to not imagine what Eddie would look like changing a wheel. 

“Good to know, but no, not quite what I meant.” 

Next to him, Eddie props himself up on his elbow so he can properly look at Steve. 

“What did you mean?” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Steve’s ear as he speaks. Steve has to focus harder than he’d like to admit to not get lost in it. Even the smallest touches have an effect on him when it’s Eddie. 

“What if something happens with us?” His voice is small and he can’t look at Eddie, afraid of what his reaction might be. “Remember that thing Mike said about us not really knowing anyone there? Just, what would happen?” 

“Baby,” Eddie gently grabs Steve’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face towards him. Steve easily follows but closes his eyes. 

“Baby, please look at me,” Eddie’s voice is even softer than before, and Steve has always been weak when it comes to Eddie asking him to do things so he slowly blinks his eyes open.

“There you are,” he smiles, face open and tendrils of hair falling around it. He looks angelic and Steve almost forgets what they are talking about, too overwhelmed by the man next to him. 

Eddie keeps them on track though. 

“Like I told Mike, nothing will happen. We will be fine. But,” he continued before Steve can protest, “if something does, we both have jobs already, we’ve done this right. We will be able to save eventually. Quicker because we’re two people, paying rent and all that stuff on two salaries. If something happens we will have that security.” 

Steve relaxes then and Eddie must see it because he grins and continues, “now if you didn’t have a job then I’d be worried. I’m not cut out for all the responsibility of being the breadwinner, princess.”

Steve groans and shoves Eddie away. Mostly to hide the blush he can feel creeping up his face just from Eddie calling him princess. Judging by the way Eddie cackles he doesn’t have to see Steve blush to know the effect it has on him. 

He reaches out and pulls Steve in against his chest. “Worst case scenario we have to move back. Wayne will probably pretend to be unhappy about it but he’ll let me take over his trailer again. And, I know you have complicated feelings about this house, that your parents are the worst, but you’ll be able to come back if you need to.” 

“Okay,” Steve says, his worries mostly calmed. 

1 day until moving day. 

Steve and Eddie are spending the night apart. Eddie wanting to spend his last night with Wayne and both of them needing to do some last minute packing. 

Just as he finishes closing one of the last boxes the phone rings, he’s a bit confused about who would call him right now. His friends all having seen him earlier in the day to say goodbye. Maybe Eddie needs to double-check what time they decided to leave. 

He picks up but it’s not Eddie, or even one of the kids, who speaks.

“Steven,” his mother's shrill voice crackles on the other end of the line. 

“Hi mom,” he tries to hide his sigh as he speaks, doesn’t have the energy to get into anything with her right now, doesn’t want her to ruin his excitement. 

“I thought you were moving to Chicago alone?” 

His freezes, when he told his parents he was gonna move he didn’t say he was going alone but he also didn’t mention Eddie. He knew they wouldn’t like it, knew it would be easier to let them assume he was going by himself. 

“But I just got off a call with Mrs. Hagan and she told me that Tommy had said you were moving there with- with that cult boy? The one who’s wanted for murder?” 

Steve closes his eyes and this time he doesn’t bother hiding his sigh. Fucking Tommy, he’s always had a big mouth but Steve suspects that this hadn’t been him blabbering without thinking. No, Steve thinks Tommy knew exactly what he was doing telling his mom this piece of information. 

“His name is Eddie, and he was cleared of all charges. The ‘cult’ was literally just a school club.”

“So it’s true? You’re moving with him?” Her voice is sharp and even just hearing it over the phone makes him flinch.

“Yeah, we’re friends and it’s cheaper that way. We got a better apartment because we’re two people with a job each.” It’s such a simplification of the truth it’s almost a lie but Steve doesn’t think this is the time to come out to her. He hopes the ‘better apartment’ comment will calm her, it’s the sort of thing she cares about after all. Not for his safety and comfort though but for how it will reflect on her.

He’s not sure she actually hears him though because she hisses a vicious, “If you move with him you will not be welcome back Steven, this will be the last time we speak.” Before she hangs up on him. 

Steve carefully places the phone back in its cradle, then he’s left standing alone in the living room, both too shocked to move and not really shocked at all. 

He’s not close to his parents. Has slowly been understanding just how much they’ve neglected him. He’s been relieved about moving away, about being in another city where he won’t have to see them when they waltz back into town. But to never speak to them again? That’s a whole different thing. He still hoped that they’d be able to fix their relationship. That him not being dependent on them anymore would allow him to stand up for himself. That everything would get better. Now instead, the thing he thought would allow their relationship to get better is gonna destroy it forever. 

He debates calling Eddie, wants to tell him what his mom just said, wants to hear his voice, wants to let him make it better. He decides against it, he doesn’t wanna ruin Eddie’s last night with Wayne and he’ll see him tomorrow anyway. He can tell him in the car. 

He doesn’t call Robin either, she’ll insist on coming over and he knows she’s on a date with Nancy right now. He doesn’t wanna ruin that either, even though both of them will tell him he’s not, he knows he will be. He goes to bed instead, sleep seems like the best option right now, at least he won’t have to think if he’s asleep.

Moving day.

He ended up not really sleeping at all. Tossing and turning for hours and after finally falling asleep sometime in the early morning he wakes up just hours later from a nightmare. He doesn’t remember what it was about but can feel the lingering panic. He gives up on getting any more sleep, doesn’t wanna risk more nightmares when he’s alone.

He picks at his breakfast, still thrown off from the conversation with his mom the night before and not feeling like eating, so he gives up on that too. He spends the rest of the morning wandering around, touching the walls and the furniture in the house he grew up in. The house he’s been left alone in since he was nine. The house he both hates and loves. The house he will never be allowed to return to after today. 

Then the phone rings again, it’s probably his mom calling to ask if he’s decided to stay he thinks. It’s not, it turns out.

“Hi I’m Patricia, I’m looking for Steve Harrington?” A chipper voice says.

“This is him.”

“Okay well, good. I’m calling about a barista job you’re supposed to start with us next week.” 

“Yeah?” Steve chews on his cheek. 

“I’m so sorry but due to our rent being raised we’re having to do cutbacks. Since you haven’t signed your contract with us yet, it’s the first one to go.” 

“You’re firing me?” Steve asks, it’s not entirely right since he hasn’t started yet but it’s all he can think to say. 

“Essentially,” Patricia responds, “I’m sorry for the short notice.” 

“Okay,” he says, his voice void of emotion, “thank you for calling.” 

He hangs up without waiting for a response, he doesn’t have the energy to be polite. 

He barely has time to let the information sink in before his doorbell rings. Eddie on the other side of the door with a wide grin on his face. 

“Did you oversleep?” He jokes. 

Steve’s confused for a second but then he realizes he’s still in his pajamas, that he’s spent the whole morning wandering around like a ghost in his house not getting any of the things he needed to do done. 

He hasn’t packed the bag of all his essentials. He hasn’t gotten dressed. He hasn’t even brushed his teeth. What he has done is get fired from a job he never even started.

He sees Eddie’s teasing smile, the combination of it and his sudden joblessness tugs at something in his brain, brings back the conversation they had last week.

“Now, if you didn’t have a job then I’d be worried. I’m not cut out for all the responsibility of being the breadwinner princess.”

He doesn’t have a job. He’ll have to live off Eddie and what little savings he has left. Become a responsibility Eddie doesn’t want, a burden probably.

“Worst case scenario we move back”, “you’ll be able to come back if you need to.”

If he leaves now he won’t be able to come back. 

Gareths words play back in his mind too.

“if you have any doubts at all, you can’t go.”, “it will break him more if you go, let him think it’s gonna work and then leave, then if you don’t go at all.”

“I’m not going,” Steve hears himself say as he steps back from the hand Eddie reaches out to him. 

“You’re not-“ Eddie looks so confused. “Like today? Do you need extra time? We can postpone by a couple of days but-“

He’s not getting it. Steve interrupts him, needs to make him understand because he can’t listen to him try to come up with solutions. 

“No, Eddie. I’m not going it all.” 

The words feel wrong in his mouth but he forces them out anyways. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks and it fucking ruins him. He feels his carefully blank expression break, despair showing through. 

“I can’t leave Hawkins, the kids,” he has to look away from Eddie as he says this. Knows it’s the only thing Eddie won’t question, knows Eddie thinks he doesn’t mean as much to Steve as the kids do. “They need me.”

“When did you decide you weren’t going?” Eddie asks and Steve didn’t know it was possible but he breaks even more from that, from Eddie not fighting him. 

I didn’t, he thinks, I don’t know why I’m saying this now. If you ask me to stop and just go with you I will. 

“A couple of days ago,” he lies. 

It’s silent then, just their breathing and the distant sound of cars down the street being heard. Eventually, Eddie breaks it.

“Steve?”

His voice cracks in the middle. Steve can hear the plea for him to take it all back and he nearly does, has to swallow the words creeping up his throat before they get out. 

“I’m sorry,” he says instead. He turns around, closing the door behind him. Destroying their future and breaking the last bit of his heart in the process.

He doesn’t get more than two steps into the house before his legs give out beneath him. He stays there, sitting on the floor for what feels like forever. 

After some time he hears a car drive away and he knows Eddie has left. He feels silent tears start streaming down his face that soon turns into sobs. Making him curl in on himself and gasp for air. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, crying until he can’t anymore and then just sitting there. But after a while, he’s interrupted by a loud ringing. For the third time in less than twenty-four hours he picks up the god-forsaken phone. 

“Hello?” He rasps, his voice dull and raw from crying.

“Steven. You made the right decision and stayed I take it?” His mother asks.

“Yes.” He says and hangs up on her. 

[ricecaqes]

this room is never ever going to see the light of heaven. not if i have anything to say about it

[owlf45]

How is the beginning of the chapter going? You mentioned that's the part you were having issues with

what if.. i just. posted 3k word chapters. maybe even... 5k word chapters. like a normal person. but no, my brain screams. i have to be mentally ill with 20k word chapters or else something terrible will befall me!!!! for some UNGODLY REASON!!!!

[ne-umeyu-tancevat]

Picnic date with Norman Bates <3

for @perfectlullabies and @littlegreenfag

The day was hotter than expected when you first planned this little outing. The fine, hot Californian sun beat down overhead, and though you were in the lightest and airiest linen you owned you were sweating beneath your sunhat, underneath the unrelenting weight of the sun’s rays, making as if to press you into the earth and bake you dead where you lay. Norman, however, walked light and easy as you both trekked through the landscape, hills and farmland, completely unbothered, his face and arms already nicely browned though summer was just at its start. You were the one who knew where you were both going but he, on his long legs, almost left you trailing behind, even as he carried with him the picnic basket you’d packed.

It wasn’t that long of a walk to the spot you found, though it was made long by the heat. You were huffing and puffing and suffering as you crossed the last stretch, coming over the apex of the last hill.

“There!” You pointed ahead. “Oh my god, I thought we’d never reach it!” In the little valley between hills was an old tree with sprawling wide branches, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers in midsummer explosion, a veritable oasis amid a sea of food monocrops. You both paused for a moment, you caught your breath as he stared down at the sight before him.

“Wow! How beautiful!” He turned back and smiled at you, more dazzling than the sun. “I-I-I never even thought there would be a place like this so close to my front door!” He glanced at his watch. “Barely twenty minutes, it’s not even 2:30 yet!”

“Twenty minutes?! I thought it was like, an hour,” you fanned your face with your open hand. “I thought we were lost!” 

He laughed and, looking down at the steep decline in front of you, tentatively offered his hand. “Shall we? I’m hungry from all that walking…” You smiled up at him and put your hand in his, it was big and warm and his skin was soft, and your heart thudded in your chest. Hand in hand you carefully descended into the valley, wading amongst the flora until you came upon a perfect little clearing in the shade of the great old tree. It was already noticeably cooler. 

He set down the picnic basket at your feet, and you spun around, taking it all in, the rustling grass and leaves overhead, the bright and shining green hills standing all around you. “Isn’t it just lovely down here?”

He was standing with his hands held loosely in front of him at waist height, he brought them together and interlocked them nervously as he looked at you. “Y-Yeah… it is.” he breathed out, smiling as he quickly nodded.

You crouched down and opened the basket at your feet, taking the folded blanket from the top. “Here, help me spread it out!” You took the loose corner and the whole wide surface spilled free. He bent down and took the other end, finding the adjacent corners and spreading it out wide as you both stepped apart, moved to find the perfect spot and bent down to smooth the blanket of any bothersome folds. “Alright, now sit down!” You told him, and went over to retrieve the basket, kneeling down opposite to him as you flipped open the lid, setting aside the plates, cutlery, and glasses. “Okay… are you ready to see what I have prepared for us today?” You said with a flourish of the hand, grinning.

“Oh yes, I’m ready!” He nodded eagerly, sitting criss crossed in front of you, looking so sweet and patient.

“I tried to make things I think you would like…” You said, and now you were a little nervous, but you listed them out as you took each container and set them aside neatly on the blanket: an assortment of cured meats and nice cheeses sliced thin, cut fresh fruit, salad with fresh greens and vinaigrette dressing, and an assortment of sandwiches cut into quarters, light cucumber sandwiches with cream cheese, egg salad sandwiches, cold cuts with lettuce and tomato. You smiled up at him through your lashes as you brought out the last thing in the basket: a tall bottle of red wine.

His eyebrows raised, his mouth parted as he mouthed “wow” and then smiled again. “Wine! I’ll admit, I don’t really drink…”

You felt a little anxious and sheepish in the assumption you made in bringing it, you clutched the bottle in your hands and moved to put it back in the basket. “Oh! Well, that’s perfectly alright you know, i-if you don’t want to then we won’t open it!”

“No, no, I mean - What I mean is, I’ve never really… drank alcohol before. Mother would never approve…” He laughed nervously, his eyes flitted to the ground for a second and he paused, thinking. “But I’ll have some today, if you brought it!”

“Well, alright then! You can at least try it, here,” you reached over and took the two glasses, setting them in front of you before you fished the corkscrew out of the basket, screwing it into the top until the two levers on either side were raised, and pushed them down, wiggling until you released the stopper with a distinctive POP! You smiled, smelling the sweet and astringent aroma from the opening, and poured a roughly equal amount into the two glasses before handing one off to him.

You sipped and watched eagerly as he sniffed at the rim of the glass and quirked an eyebrow. Then, tentatively, he brought it to his lips, and drank deeply, deeper than you expected, and your eyes went wide, eyebrows coming together in astonishment. “Okay, well, don’t go too wild with it,” you started, then watched the journey of conflicting emotions play across his face, unable to escape but to either swallow the mouthful of wine or to spit it back into the glass, and you almost thought he would, until at last he tilted his head back and swallowed with some effort, gasping for breath, he coughed and made a face.

“Well, Norman, how was it?”

“It’s good, not bad,” he choked out, looking and sounding pained. “It’s sweet! But I wasn’t expecting the way it would taste so strongly!”

“Well, you also knocked back half the glass in one go, silly. You’re supposed to sip it,” you smiled affectionately and pointed at him: “Unless you wanna get really drunk really fast!” You laughed again.

“It feels… It’s really warm in my stomach.”

“Well, here then, you’ll need to have some food too,” you reached over and took the plates and cutlery, set one of each in front of him and then yourself. “Let’s eat!”

He reached over and matched a translucent-thin slice of prosciutto to a piece of provolone and ate it in one bite. Plate in hand, you took a sandwich and an assortment of fruit. Norman, holding the salad bowl with a serving on his plate in front of him, held it to you in offering, and you lifted your plate closer as he spooned a good helping over, smiling kindly in a way that made your heart throb. And then, satisfied, you both started to eat.

Partway through your first plates, with his glass empty and his face pink, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, Norman looked up and said, breaking the silence: “You know, I really love sharing meals with people.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” He paused, gathering his words. “I started cooking all by myself fairly young! It was pretty much the only thing I could do well that would make my mother happy.” He said this humorously, but it left a sour feeling in your heart that you pushed down, away from your face. “I think people are just happier when they’re eating…” He giggled, lifting his shoulders.

“Well I hope, I really hope we get to share a lot more meals together, Norman,” you smiled warmly at him. “I’m pretty happy right now!” You reached over, placing your palm over top of his hand for a moment before you pulled away.

You talked as you ate your fill, and as the bottle grew emptier, about books, about art, and movies (you told him about movies, Norman didn’t go to the theater at all), about your hobbies and the places you’ve traveled to in your life, and about the many kinds of people he’s seen check into his motel, and the funny things they sometimes left behind. When most of the food was gone, you picked at the remaining charcuterie, and there was a weighty sort of momentum to your movements, a spinning sensation you hadn’t quite noticed in your reverie that proved you were more than a little tipsy, sun-drunk and wine-drunk and love-drunk too, and so very happy. Full, you lapsed into silence, a silence that was comfortable. The sun had moved, uncovering the half of the picnic blanket that Norman was sitting on from shadow, and he laid back to rest in the warmth, closing his eyes against the mid afternoon rays, and looked more content than you had ever seen him before.

You moved the empty plates and containers back into the basket to make room, and then sat just looking at him, taking him in as much as you possibly wanted, that he wasn’t looking at you all the same, making you nervous under his gaze. His lithe body looked so relaxed with his hands interlocked and resting on his stomach - he was always so tense! His dark hair, wonderful thick brows and dark lashes, his exquisitely structured face, straight nose, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. The mole on his upper lip, and oh, oh the lips themselves, that you had imagined kissing so much. Well, now you were a little anxious, and there was the strange notion that he might even read your thoughts, know your desires from the intensity of them alone. You moved to lie down next to him so that you didn’t have to look anymore, that you only had to enjoy his presence in the sun, in the heat, with the rustling of grass, magenta and yellow fireworks exploding on the tops of leafy wild plants, the buzzing of insects, butterflies drifting from flower to flower and crickets calling out for mates amongst the thicket.

But your mind was still in the orbit of kissing, thinking of how much you wanted to kiss him and how easy it would be to just kiss him. It was your third date, and that was appropriate, right? Really, you’d wanted to kiss him almost from the first moment you saw him. He was exceedingly skittish when it came to these things, the physical intimacy, he was already practically shaking the first time you held his hand. You would have to ease into it…

You sat upright, and twisted yourself to look at him, still lying with his eyes closed, and asked: “Norman, have you ever kissed anyone before?” …Regretting it immediately as tension filled his whole figure, was it too quick, too forceful? And you knew he probably would have never kissed anyone before anyways. What is wrong with me? The wine, it’s the wine making me so bold… Your gut cringed as his eyes shot open, fearful, and for a second he was still before he shook his head “no.”

“Oh well that’s completely fine you know I’ve never really kissed anyone before either,” the words dribbled out as you turned away, looking out into the meadow in front of you with a grimace, feeling troubled as you ran your hands on the fabric over your thighs. But you didn’t want to make a scene being worried about it, to make him feel bad or scare him, so you laid down too, trying to mirror him, trying not to think of the small distance between you two. Looking up into the sky, you were dizzy, and there was the sun scintillating through the rustling leaves, and billions of shades of green in all different states of illumination.

You laid there for a couple minutes, a completely restless and futile attempt at relaxation. He looked so scared. Did he understand what you wanted? Did he want it too? Would he ever ask on his own? You sat up again, hugging your knees as you watched all the life going by in the field ahead.

You turned your whole body around that you were facing him, lying on your hip and supporting yourself with one arm as you looked down at him. He didn’t look quite as shaken up as you felt he might be, or as you were from the itching desire to be closer. His eyes again were closed, you almost wondered if he was sleeping. But the sound of your movements got his attention enough, this time his eyes fluttered open gently, and he met your gaze with a sweet, closed mouth smile that you couldn’t help but match. From somewhere over your head, a butterfly came and circled clumsily, both your eyes followed it until it - you gasped - landed on the crown of his hair.

“Don’t move! It landed on you!” You half-shouted, not wanting to scare it away, and his expression widened in surprise. “Oh, that’s wonderful, I wish I had a camera!” Norman was frozen, even trying not to breathe too hard, and looked up as far as he could. It was a brilliant orange creature against the backdrop of his dark hair, smattered with black spots, edged in white, it flexed it’s fan-shaped wings open-closed, open-closed, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the loveliness of it. You inched closer and reached over slowly, trying not to frighten it away, holding your hand out, thinking that maybe if you were gentle enough it might crawl on your finger but - too close! The butterfly took flight again, bouncing aimlessly away on the air. “Aww no, I scared it away, damn it!” You were disappointed, but laughed as you said it.

“Was it really on me? I couldn’t see!” He asked, and you nodded down at him, smiling. And your heart started beating fast, because you had moved pretty close in trying to get the butterfly, closer and more intimate here lying down than you had ever felt before. Maybe you had been physically closer, but here, lying on the blanket, his flushed and smiling face below you, you could just lean in and kiss him for the first time right there. You pictured yourself doing it. Your face fell, unable to smile convincingly so flustered as you were, so hesitant. Norman caught the change in mood, his face matching your seriousness, his eyebrows pinched just a bit in concern, a question in his eyes.

“Norman, I want to kiss you…” You murmured, and his face took on the same flat neutrality of terror as before as you spoke: “Norman, can I kiss you…?”

For a few seconds, there was no answer, no reaction, just the same deer-in-headlights look on his face, and you felt a moment of piercing rejection through your heart. You pulled away just barely, feeling pained, although you were still watching, still waiting for him to say anything.

Almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

“Really?” You breathed, halfway disbelieving. But he nodded again, whispered “yes” so softly he might as well have just mouthed the word. Now your heart was racing in your chest, the blood was rushing in your ears, the sound of pure excitement, as you looked from his eyes to his mouth, brown eyes to his lips, slightly parted…

You moved in, stroked the side of his hair that was combed nicely behind his ear, placing your palm flat next to his head and bracing your weight on your hand as you leaned in, bridging the distance, closing your eyes until finally, you made contact, pressing your lips to his, soft and warm and unmoving, and stayed there for seconds that felt like minutes with glorious fire burning in your chest, until you puckered your lips slightly as you pulled away, the small, wet sound of suction between you. 

You made just enough distance between you that you could see the dazed, glassy-eyed look on his face, and you felt the shuddering, trembling breath he let out against your lips. You searched his eyes, and when you moved to kiss him again, this time he lifted his head to meet your lips and kissed you back, clumsy at first before he caught onto the rhythm - kissing, pulling, suction, breathing. He unfolded his arms beneath you, and you felt his arm go around you, palm flat against your shoulder blade as he stroked your back softly up and down; his other hand came up to your face, knuckles brushing against your cheek, before his fingers went to comb through your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp then carding through to the ends, creating a delightful frisson sensation until his hand found its rest at the back of your head. You felt comfortable to let your weight lean into him a bit, your chest pressed warm against his, and it freed your own hand to go to his face, feeling the ridge of his cheekbone, poky stubble just underneath the skin, the motion of the sharp edge of his jawline as your lips glided over each other, breaths intermingling in the space between you. the sensations raking up brilliant sparks of pleasure that exploded in your chest, lighting the delicious warm ache of hunger throughout your body that made you press yourself into him more. Until gently, you broke away for rest, to catch a full breath, and you saw him follow you up, wanting and needing more, until he realized you were pulling away and let his head fall back, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, shining kiss-swollen lips as he took deep, heavy breaths.

“Are you… Are you sure you’ve never kissed anyone else before?” He asked breathlessly, dreamily, with a smile.

It was all you could do to laugh and kiss him again, and again, and again.

[palms-upturned]

Sorry for being late today coming online, a lot has happened and I am trying to think about the best way to organize this blog going forward. For now though I will try to get the list updated quickly and read through my messages/@'s