#because I see them out and about all winter

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ no one has to know what we do ]❜

ft. cho sang-woo x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you lay in bed with your dad’s best friend after a night of passion┊1.3k words

contains: slight smut!! dom sang-woo & sub reader┊age gap (reader is early 20s & sang-woo’s early 40s), (adopted) dad’s best friend trope, purposeful seduction, one-night stands, unprotected piv (don’t do anything the reader does, this is fiction & unrealistic, stay safe), creampie, biting, smoking, 

➤ author's note: i was thinking about this man all night, i’m not kidding, i’m doing it again tongiht too because he’s so fine idc if he’s evil, i wanna fuck him not fix him

it’s nearly four in the morning on another cold winter’s night with nothing but a yellow-tinted bedside lamp illuminating the room, completely silent aside from the rustling of the blanket from your movement. you sigh softly and nestle closer to the man lying flat on his back for more of the addicting warmth radiating off his body, your face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and your legs entangling with his. he doesn’t pull away like you expected him to, just takes another drag on his cigarette and ignores you for the most part with the weight of the past few hours— the weight of the sins he committed tonight— pressing into his mind.

you, on the other hand, were all soft smiles and feeling content as if you just crossed off an accomplishment on the top of your bucket list. for a situation that could ruin both of your lives if discovered, it certainly feels blissful and freeing to finally fuck the man you’ve been dreaming about almost religiously ever since you came back home from university for the holidays a week ago. you have no idea how you’ve never met him until now when you’ve heard so much about him, but perhaps it was better that way when your thoughts were less than innocent. 

despite being middle-aged, he was still very handsome with intelligent albeit weary eyes which seemed to hide some sort of darkness to them. you found yourself studying him from afar, noticing him not wearing a wedding ring and making no mention of a family other than his mother, so you quickly made up your mind that you were going to fuck him before going back to school. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway.

it actually didn’t take much to seduce him surprisingly: accidental eye contact filled with longing, lingering touches when you handed him his chilled cheap beer, careful actions and words to play up your sex appeal— it reminded you that most men are the same even if the stoic cho sang-woo was older and prided himself in his cunning mind, starved for affection with wandering eyes that frequently followed beneath the hem of your skirt. he looked at you behind his glasses with distrust and tried to act indifferent towards you in front of gi-hun, probably already suspicious about your intentions, but you could already see him drinking up your appearance in your cute little outfit as he downed another bottle. this little game was one you knew well and you always won in the end, there has yet to be anyone you wanted who couldn’t resist you and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first.

he stayed the night in the guest bedroom because it was already dark out, your former room which was converted after you moved out (sometimes it was rented out for extra cash), and at the strike of midnight, you knocked on the door and presented yourself to him seeking his comfort for an unspecified reason with slightly teary doe eyes. it was clear that you didn’t disturb him from his slumber and that he was already awake, visibly restless, and maybe even stressed. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was bothering him so much. he was hesitant to let you in at first, as any good man would, but his resolve crumbled after seeing how beautiful you looked in the dim light (not like it wasn’t already a breeze away from collapsing after the alcohol). it’s surprising what a little silk nightgown can do with the thin straps threatening to slip off your shoulders, the short hem revealing your soft thighs, your perk nipples straining through the thin fabric, and how small and vulnerable you looked shivering in your lack of clothes.

“you shouldn’t be here at this time.”

“are you going to turn me away?”

still, even if it all went according to plan, he’s not in love with you. you don’t think he is anyway. you don’t expect him to be. would you like him to be in love with you? it might put the aching loneliness at ease even if it won’t make it disappear entirely. he’s a man old enough to be your father after all, he’s a man who grew up with your father and considered him to be a close friend. is this how you thank your father for taking you in and sharing what little he had with you? by seducing and sleeping with his best friend? 

in all honestly, though, he certainly fucked like he was in love with you— like you two were the last two souls on this earth. he was a lot more pent up than you anticipated, or a lot more lonely, trusting into you so deeply one would think he was trying to reach your empty heart as you clawed at his back leaving red rivers of scratched skin. you barely even needed any prep for his size with how soaked you were, evident with a wet patch on your underwear which he teased before throwing it to be forgotten on the floor along with all your other clothes. 

it was difficult to keep the sinful sounds of sex to a minimum, skin against skin with moans slipping from your mouth and groans from his. he had to resort to covering your mouth with his large palm to shut you up and bit into your collarbone leaving his mark on you, finally finishing inside of you in his haze before using his fingers to help you reach your orgasm and embarrassing you for once by staring intently at how the mix of your arousals dripped all over his hand.

“when are you leaving for university?”

“why, are you going to miss me when i’m gone?”

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“no one has to know what we do,” you giggled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and inhaling the smoke. “i’m old enough to keep a secret.”

those last words made him pause for a second. this was immoral and forbidden. if seong gi-hun were ever to find out, their relationship would be ruined forever and you would be disowned, and he could only imagine the look of betrayal on his face. yet you didn’t seem to care in the least bit about what he would think, gingerly rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of him leaking out of you and touching the area where he bit you. it drew his attention, finally turning to you and admiring the mark sunken into your skin, looking almost proud of it like art on a clean canvas. 

“i don’t want you sleeping with some other stupid boys when you go back.”

“hm, only if you promise that this won’t be the last time and that you also don’t fuck anyone else while i’m gone.”

“you know, i can’t promise that. we were lucky to not get caught this time, but who’s to say there will be a next time?”

“well, then i’ll go back to university and have sex with whoever i want, then you can do the same—”

“oh, shut up,” he scolded, pinching your cheeks to pull you towards him and kissing you possessively as if he could consume you whole by it. you were glad to reciprocate, allowing him to climb back on top of you while your arms wrapped around his neck. “fine, as long as you keep your word.”

he said it like he didn’t really want to continue this, like he was conceding to your demands and was merely tolerating you with better things to do, but the thinly veiled desperate need in his words and actions was clearer than glass to you. not that you minded, it was all working out just how you wanted it to.

[amdiriel]

lonely pt. 2

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: After a vulnerable moment of comfort, Reader tries to navigate Azriel’s increasingly flirtatious behavior without assuming anything. Because she really shouldn’t. Right?

WARNINGS: FLUFF, slight suggestiveness, a bit of hurt but SO much comfort, not proofread we die like men

NOTE: thanks for so much love on part 1! I have some ideas for new Az fics, so lmk if you're interested in being on my Azriel taglist! xox diri

WORDS: ~4.2k

part 1 main masterlist

•••

It had been about a week and a half since my little breakdown in my room, my cycle coming and going just days after it. I attributed my moment of uncharacteristic hopelessness to hormones.

I hoped Azriel would too, since I had trouble fully looking him in the eye ever since out of embarrassment. After a night of deep rest post-letting-it-all-out, I woke the next morning to a spill of hindsight in my mind, grumbling at my ridiculousness into my pillow. Despite my cycle being a royal pain in my ass, it was a few days where I could hide safely in my room.

So the next few days, I was determined to be fine. I was great, living the dream, no worries here, wielding a grin and a dry joke as always.

The first day after my cycle ending, I wake up to blissful absence of pain in my abdomen, and treat myself to a long bath.

Afterwards, I take advantage of a brisk morning walk, the sunshine making the late winter weather less intolerably cold. I barely get two blocks from the River House before a shadow passes over my head.

I tilt my head back, squinting through the direct sunlight. Then the shadow descends at an alarmingly fast rate and touches down near-silently beside me. “Good morning,” Azriel murmurs.

I jump at his sudden appearance, the bubbling nervousness at his closeness making it more pronounced. “Shit—Azriel,” I gasp, calming myself with a breath. “What the hell?”

He chuckles lowly and nudges me slightly as he matches my resuming pace. “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid,” he says, not sorry at all.

I huff and roll my eyes, even as my lips curl up as well. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You need to wear a bell.” His laugh curls around me.

“I’m not sure it would go with my leathers,” he pretends to muse. “A collar would really ruin the effect of my scariness. Not to mention the whole point of being Spymaster.”

I snort, shaking my head. He nudges me again, drawing my gaze back up to him. I find his eyes warmly on me.

“I’m glad to see you out and about,” he says. “I was worried about you.”

I let the sweet words warm me for a quick moment before I huff a small laugh. “It’s my cycle, not sickness. I’m good.”

He shrugs. “Still. I know it’s much worse for you and your sisters now that you’re all fae. You handling them alright?”

My expression softens. “You’re sweet. I’m fine. I didn’t have much pain as a human, so I think as far as fae cycles go, my pain now is relatively mild. I mostly just don’t want to do anything,” I reply with a shrug of my own.

Azriel eyes me for a moment. “Alright. But you’ll let me know if you need anything, right? I haven’t forgotten about our agreement, you know,” he says with a sly smirk.

It takes a second for it to dawn, but soon a blush blooms on my face as I remember that night. I huff a sigh, finding it within me to laugh a little at myself. “So, what, you want me to come to you any time I have a problem?” I ask dryly.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers plainly.

I give him a look. “Are you now our resident therapist too?” I deadpan. “Your resume’s long enough, Shadowsinger, you can take a pause every once in a while.”

He laughs again, shaking his head at me. “I may be busy, but never for you. Never for family,” he replies, and with such sincerity in his eyes that my steps falter for a moment.

Fuck. What happened to cool and collected, Archeron?

But I swallow and arch a brow. “Sweet. But you’re barely here enough to be able to do so for the many members of our ever-growing household,” I say, thinking about our nephew Nyx.

He shrugs a shoulder, his wings unfurling then furling in a subtle motion that catches my eye. I’d always found them fascinating. “Then how about this—I’ll never be too busy for you,” he says, a note saucily that my widened eyes turn upon his smirking face.

I grasp for words for a moment, and I see his eyes delight at my moment of hesitation. I shut my mouth and switch tactics, laughing. “Why Az, you are positively Rhys-like today.”

His brows raise, expression lighting in challenge. “Oh am I? Enlighten me, sweetheart.”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek at that damned pet name again. This male just made it so bloody difficult to be dignified at all. I swear, every moment in his presence is a fight for my life. “You’re all—” I gesticulate over his person, “Swaggering. It’s unnerving. Please, for my sanity, resume your duties as our resident brooder. You’re putting me off.”

His head tilts back with a hearty laugh that startles me into astonishment. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he drawls, suddenly feeling like he’s looming over me.

Stupid, tree-like male.

I don’t reply except for a disbelieving huff at his forward behavior. His smirk is self satisfied as he halts, taking a step back with a sketch of a bow.

“You’ll have to resume your walk without me, Ms. Archeron,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose at the use of my surname. His smiling eyes rove over it, dipping to my lips before locking with my own gaze again. “Think you can manage?”

I scoff and manage to flip him off as his enormous wings unfurl and beat his figure into the air. His rumbling chuckle disappears as his shape grows smaller in the sky.

—

The following days, he wasn’t as blatantly swaggering, as I had called him, but he was…

Forward. Disarmingly so.

I couldn’t seem to avoid his presence if I tried, if merely to kick some sense back into myself. First it was the library—when I had settled into the cozy window seat, my usual perch, an hour into my reading, he had strode in his silent yet confident way of his. I had stilled, as if hoping he’d simply not notice me. Fool. He notices everything. And he certainly had wasted no time sidling up to my perch and leaning over to observe what I was reading. His warmth and masculine scent was a pleasant yet oppressive blanket to my poor sensibilities. And I barely survived when he had hummed “Any good?” practically into my ear.

Or there was lunchtime—I’d wander into the kitchen to make something quick and simple for myself, and when I walked into the dining room he’d be sitting there already, looking up with a small, unassuming smile. When he bade simply, “Sit with me”, I had no choice but to obey and eat with him. In my suspicion, I confess that I switched the times I went to get lunch by random intervals, in which each and every time he either was already there or showed up soon after.

I couldn’t tell if it just happened that way, or if he was being overly clever in his intentional variation.

Now, three weeks post-meltdown incident, Azriel had been gone a few days on Cauldron-knows-what business, so I’d loosened up, no longer bracing myself like he could walk into the room at any second.

Which is apparently my folly, since as soon as I round the corner into the dining room one morning, I found him standing at the sideboard, back toward me, making a cup of tea.

I halted, nearly rearing back as my mouth started to form the word shit, but quickly clamping it down. But even the smallest of noise alerts someone as discerning as him.

He turns and calls my name with quiet warmth, and I banish the wince from my face. “Hey,” I say simply. “When did you get back?”

“Last night,” he says, abandoning his tea to draw near. My head tilts back as he stops in front of me. “How have you been?” he asks with a soft smile.

His quiet care is almost more flustering than his forwardness. “Well. Fine,” I answer. “And you? Your mission or whatever successful?”

He huffs amusedly. “My mission or whatever was just fine,” he replies. Then he returns to the sideboard. “Tea?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Just bla—”

“Just black. I know,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. I blink in surprise, cheeks pink. He’s been paying close enough attention that he knows that?

Of course he has, dummy. He probably has dossiers on everyone in this city with information down to the way they take their tea, the pragmatic voice in my head deadpans. You’re no exception.

I blink again as he draws near with a second cup, passing it to me. I take it with a small thank you, sipping it gratefully.

Just when I start to squirm on my feet at the silence between us, he speaks. “About what we talked about that night a few weeks ago—” I still. “You’re alright in that regard? And don’t lie, I’ll be able to tell.”

I huff a sound between a sigh and laugh, looking down. “Well, I haven’t had a night as bad as that one since then, so that’s good right?” I say with wry self-deprecation. He doesn’t reply. “But really, I’m alright. Just winter blues, I suppose.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

I roll my eyes in a small flash of annoyance. “Alright, not just winter blues. But they certainly don’t help. But I’m fine. Really. You did really help that night,” I admit softly.

I don’t really notice my teacup is empty until he gently takes it from my hand and sets it next to his already abandoned cup. “What helped most, sweetheart?” he asks gently.

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth—speaking my vulnerability aloud both impossible and foreign. Letting him in last time didn’t hurt. It helped, a small voice whispers in my head.

I take a breath. “Just—talking through it. Physical touch too, um…” I fight to stay steady. “It’s grounding.”

He hums, nodding. There’s a light touch to both my elbows, and my eyes shift down to find that he’d silently reached for me. I allow the touch, but don’t dare go further, suspended in the fear of the unknown.

“You don’t have to be afraid to ask for that,” he murmurs quietly. Suddenly I’m very aware of the air we’re sharing, how close he’s gotten to me. His hands slide slowly to my upper arms, my breath hitching as the warmth of his palms bleed through even my heavy sweater.

The panic sets in before I can think this interaction through, before I can rationalize that maybe, just maybe he wants to be close to me, wants to touch me. Instead my eyes find the clock and seize the subject change before me. “Don’t you have Valkyrie training in five minutes?”

Azriel stills and follows my gaze to the clock. His jaw works once before the fleeting tension is gone. “You’re right. I should go.” He squeezes my upper arms gently before letting his hands drop. “Stay warm today. Wind is supposed to get bad, and temperatures will drop rapidly once the sun sets.”

I nod, giving him a brief smile. “Of course, you too. Stay warm, I mean.”

He returns my smile before leaving the room.

A whoosh of air leaves my lungs as soon as I’m alone again. Idiot. Silly, foolish girl.

—

Azriel was at his wits end.

He’d been pulling far more stops than his usual personality allowed, hadn’t he? She was certainly clever enough to notice that he was acting much differently around her, right? Had he just not been forward enough?

And still, she did not allow him closer, as close as two people could be. He'd given her every sign he could think of without embarrassing himself.

Impossible girl. Can’t you understand that all I want is to comfort and coddle you?

He must not have taken care to erase any tension in his expression by the time he touched down in the ring atop the House of Wind, because Cassian’s brows raised upon seeing him.

Azriel just had to cast him a cool look for his brother to relent, though he caught the half-smirk on the General’s face as he turned toward the group of priestesses warming up and began training.

It was during sparring that Nesta finally deigns to sidle up beside him as he watches a match. “So. What the hell’s going on between you and my sister?”

He stills for just a moment before erasing the reaction. He debates lying to his friend, but she’ll call him on it. He doesn't think she’ll warn him off her sister either, so finally he admits evenly, “Much less than I would like.”

The eldest Archeron huffs a laugh. “I appreciate you sparing me a lie. Honestly, Az? My sister is just supremely oblivious, clever as she is. If nothing else has worked at this point, you just need to lay one on her.”

He chokes and turns his head toward her. “I would never. Not without her express permission—”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Gods, males can be so boring. At the very least you need to sit her down and make sure she doesn’t leave until she understands exactly what your intentions are. Then you can lay one on her, if she’s amenable to it.”

Azriel takes a deep breath, letting the words sink into his turbulent mind. “I don’t want to scare her,” he admits after a pause.

“You won’t,” she replies instantly. “She’s not afraid of you, she never could be. In truth, my sister is scared of very little. But based on the fact that she’s never had a romantic attachment before, what seems like indifference is likely just borne out of nervousness.”

“I don’t want to make her nervous either.”

“It’s not you that does. It’s just—being vulnerable. Emotionally intimate with someone,” Nesta says. “Years of fighting with her have taught me that she’ll hide anything behind biting wit or a laugh and joke. I think that’s what makes it all the more difficult to understand.”

He doesn’t reply.

“But speaking not as her sister, she definitely is attracted to you,” Nesta continues. “Speaking as her sister?” He looks at her cool features. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then she stalks away to Gwyn and Emerie.

Azriel forces down a growl. Tonight. He'd do it tonight or hell, he'd go crazy from this dance around the line. He'd spent too many centuries wanting this, wanting companionship for him to squander an opportunity with, at last, a female that he connected so deeply with. A female that seemed to need his touch as badly as he needed hers.

So...yes. He'd had quite enough of waiting.

—

True to Azriel's word, it did end up being very cold today.

I forgo any ideas of taking a walk, but I did end up camping out in the warmth of Feyre's study, taking turns with her to organize some of her paperwork or play with Nyx on the floor. My nephew (and his poor parents) had had some rough nights due to the last dregs of his teething pain, but it was good to see him smiling and playing despite it all. Rhysand stopped in frequently, unable to stay from his mate and son for extended periods of time, and after the fourth time Feyre shooed him out with their laughing, squirming son in his arms.

Our bi-weekly dinner fell that evening. Usually I enjoyed it.

Usually.

The dinner was fine. But I was so chilled that I took the opportunity of warmth from any hot dish passed around to me. I shiver for the upteenth time as Azriel passes me the potatoes.

"Cold?" he murmurs close beside me, and I shiver again. Not from the cold, damn him.

"Freezing," I retort instead, scooping potatoes on my plate. "Doesn't Rhys have this place warded to hell? Why is it so drafty?"

Azriel chuckles lowly. "How do you know that it isn't just you?" he teases.

I shoot him a look. "No, no, Mr. 'Stay Warm Today', I'm quite certain it isn't."

He laughs again, and it warms me only temporarily. I finish before everyone else, per usual. Not only do I tend to eat fast, but I'm also not caught up in constant conversation. Bored, my eyes travel the room, around my friends. My family. Even in my relaxed, two-glasses-of-wine haze, my mind doesn't fail to notice how paired up they all seem to have gotten.

Feyre and Rhys feed a fussy Nyx in his highchair, Rhys's eyes roaming over his mate and child with unrepressed love. Cassian's arm was slung around Nesta's shoulder, my usually stoic sister slumped comfortably into his side. Varian looked down at Amren next to him like she was the most fascinating creature alive, which...wasn't entirely a subjective statement, considering her interesting history.

Even Elain was speaking in shy tones with Lucien, who watched her with amused adoration. I had been so proud of my younger sister for finally realizing that she could just as well choose him as not choose him. They were taking it slow, she'd been telling me recently, but she begrudgingly had found that her mate was, indeed, her perfect match.

But as with all my friends and family, my happiness for them comes at a cost. To myself.

I turn and opened my mouth to chase away the tightness in my chest, but found that the Spymaster next to me was turned away, engaging Mor in conversation on his other side.

I quickly clamp my mouth shut and instead go for my wine.

Gods, hadn't Feyre mentioned there was some sort of will-they won't-they situation between the two of them? Something that had been brewing for the five centuries they'd known each other? It was none of my business, of course, and I hardly paid attention, but even I noticed that it had been pretty consistently they-won't in the past few years of living here.

Right?

Azriel laughs at something she says, and suddenly I feel sick.

Cauldron. Was I going to be the only one left?

And even worse—had I also been imagining his forwardness with me as of late?

There's a rushing in my ears and I tune out completely, going blissfully blank.

I hardly recall cleanup. Or the migration to the living room. My body seems to draw itself to the fireplace, a hand lifting to drag a blanket off the back of an armchair as I settle on the floor before the flames.

And as I wrap the blanket around myself, shivering minutely, I can't bring myself to look at what I know I'll find behind me—each couple in the house cuddling for warmth.

—

Azriel's heart aches at the sight of her vibrating form in front of the fire.

He'd taken his place behind the armchair she usually sat in, hoping to finally coax her into having a conversation in the privacy of the hall. Or if things went well, his bedroom.

But instead he watched her walk as if unawake from the dining room to the fireplace in the living room. Unblinking. Not looking at anyone else.

He doesn't know what to do.

He also doesn't realize that a shadow had flitted to her until it came slinking back to his shoulder, whispering, Upset. Crying.

His heart broke. Oh, sweetheart.

He felt suspended in air, in time for a moment. Everyone was lounging, cuddling in their respective pairs, speaking quietly with one another. Distracted. So he took a gamble.

And silently pushed forward.

—

I felt him before I heard or saw him.

I lock up as I feel his warm body settle on the rug, not quite directly behind me, but not quite beside me either.

His touch was warm, intentional.

Mother, I needed intentional touch so badly.

I hadn't realize how upset I had gotten until the first cold tear spills down my cheek. I wipe hastily at it.

"Hey," he coos softly in my ear, his arm coming firmly around me and drawing me into him. I sniff, shooting a panicked glance over my shoulder since everyone was in the room right now. I barely register that his wings block any sight of the two of us from the rest of the room before his gentle hand guides my chin back to look up at him. "No one can see, sweet girl," he murmurs. "You're alright."

The lump tightens painfully in my throat as a second, third tear spill down my face. "Sorry," I mouth, unable to get any sound out.

"Stop," he whispers gently. "You're alright. You're safe." His hand slides to the back of my head and I let myself be guided to the shelter of his embrace, once again in his lap as I silently shake. "Are you feeling that way again?"

I nod silently.

He sighs. "Sweetheart. Why don't you just let me in?"

I untuck my wet face from his shoulder to glance confusedly up at him. "I...I am," I breathe. "You're—you're hugging me."

He shakes his head, cradling my face with both hands. "I mean: why don't you let me into that head of yours? That world? Most importantly, why can't you just let me into your heart?"

Said heart seems to stutter and stop beating.

There's a long moment where my lips don't form words, don't do anything except lay parted, slack. "What do you mean?" I finally blurt, a note of tightness in my voice.

His jaw works and he sighs heavily through his nose. "Sweetheart, is it so impossible to understand that this whole time you've found yourself lonely at the sight of everyone paired off that maybe I want to be that person for you? Your person?"

"Wh—you?" I sputter on a whisper as everything dawns, hell, practically crashes down upon me. The denial comes a split second after. "No."

"Yes."

My expression shutters in emotion. "There's no way—"

"There is," he murmurs with an adoring smile on his handsome face, thumbs brushing at my tears. "And you can't change that, ever. But what you can do is let me in."

I take a shuddery breath, in and out. "Let you in?"

He nods.

"Be my person?" I croak. "And I be yours?"

The words seem to have an effect on him, his chest puffing for a moment before deflating again. His hands cradle my face like I'm precious. I've never felt more so than in his lap. "Yes, sweet girl. Mine. And I, yours."

A release another uneven breath, feeling my body go warm all over. "I—I never thought that I...that you could want this with me. Could want me," I rasp.

He smiles. "But I do. I have for a long time."

I let out a little wet laugh. "Gods, I—" I shake my head. "I don't feel like asking questions right now. I've wanted you too, for so long. I just didn't want to delude myself, to make a fool of myself in front of you when you're so..."

He raises a brow but his eyes remain warm. "So?"

"So perfect, damn you," I finish, no real malice behind my words. When he laughs this time, I feel it seep directly through my chest and into my soul.

"You're the perfect one, sweetheart," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to my hairline like he had those weeks ago. "In more ways than one." He draws back to look at me, and I return his gaze with nothing but openness, with love. Then he breathes, "May I kiss you?"

Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I give him a little nod. "You may."

He dips his chin ever so slowly, and when his soft, full lips finally meet mine, my eyes slip shut. Tentative, and so gentle with me, he dares his tongue over my bottom lip. Though I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, I let him through.

The first swipe of his tongue, this hungrier kiss sets my soul ablaze, his hands travel to wrap around my waist, drawing my chest against his.

We kiss quietly yet needy for Cauldron knows how long. All I know is that I’m breathless, fuzzy, and light by the time I draw away softly. He chases my lips a moment more before settling his forehead against mine.

Breathing the same air.

A giddy smile tugs at my features, and I giggle with blushing embarrassment. “They definitely know what’s going on,” I whisper, fighting the urge to peek. He chuckles lowly and draws me closer, depositing a kiss on my shoulder, my jaw, then my lips.

“I sent them out,” he replies. My brows raise. “I told Rhys mind-to-mind that if he didn’t get everyone out, I’d quit.”

A laugh bubbles up within me. “Liar. He just decided to have mercy on us. On me, at least.”

Azriel grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Boyish. Free.

“Kiss me again,” I whisper. And he does.

That night, he takes me to his room, scooping me under the covers and into his body. I’m too wired, too happy to fall asleep right away. It’s when I watch him slip into dreamland, the most relaxed I’ve seen him, that there’s a tug within my chest.

A soft glow flickers to life deep in my soul. I smile and let the tears fall as I feel what I think is the bond.

I settle in. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

•••

NOTE: i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it! i have an idea for a short series taking place post-ACOSF, where Reader is part of a group in Montesere that’s sort of adjacent to the Valkyries, and she comes to visit the Library, so I’ll start drafting if anyone is interested k love you bye! -diri

TAG LIST: @lilah-asteria @salvatoresister1 @a-courtof-azriel @thestartitaness @casiiopea2 @kk191327 @missxmarvelous @saltedcoffeescotch

[419jhat]

I couldn't get it out of my head so I wrote it out instead. In which, Steve shocks the party plus Hollie with his ballet skills he learns how to flirt with boys because of it.

***

“You can't do that! The rulebook says-”

“My game, my rules Henderson!” Eddie shouts with an evil cackle. The kids start yelling again, and Steve's kind of worried that a fight is about to break out. But Eddie’s sitting back with his arms crossed, letting them lose it, so he figures it's actually ok. This is when he finally decides to tap out.

“I'm gonna go get some water,” Steve mumbles, not that anyone is listening. He doesn't wait for a reply before climbing up the stairs. Instantly, the pressure building in his head nearly disappears.

Is this what his life has become? Breathing in No and sock sweat in the basement of his ex-girlfriend?

He grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it in the sink, wishing he'd thought to invite Robin at least to keep him busy. All he can do is watch the mesmerizing way Eddie spins a story and sets the mood, like a lovesick fool. Actually, it's good that Robin didn't come. Because she'd make fun of him the whole time. He places the cool glass against his forehead and wishes he knew how to flirt with men. He was so sure Eddie was into him, but every time he thought he'd gotten somewhere, Eddie would back off and flip the subject. Just thinking about it kicks his headache into a higher gear.

Then, a familiar song catches his ears.

“Crap!” a little voice says.

Steve leans to the side so he can peer into the living room, where he sees Holly Wheeler standing in a tutu with her hands on her hips, staring down at the carpet. She wipes the sweat from her brow and then lifts her arms above her head and sends herself twirling in a circle only to lose her balance and stumble.

“Ugh!”

She stomps her foot and pulls at her hair.

“What's wrong?” Steve asks, putting the glass down.

Holly jumps and her face turns bright red.

“I didn't know you were watching,” she mumbles.

“Are you having a hard time with your pirouettes?” he asks.

Holly looks him up and down and yeah, he gets it. He doesn't look like the kind of guy who would know what a pirouette is. He doesn't look like the kind of guy who would ask, either. But here he is, in the flesh. Knowing and asking.

“My mom was Étoile at La Scala in Milan. I can help you,” he says. Holly just blinks at him.

“Ay-twal?” she repeats clumsily, eyes wide with shock, “isn't that a really big deal?”

“Kinda,” he says humbly. It is a big deal, but it's whatever. Holly’s like, eight. He's not going to brag about his mom to her.

“Come on, let's go to the garage. There's more space. Being the radio,” he says, leading the way.

Holly follows him and the music catches his ears again. It's the Pas de Deux from The Nutcracker.

“Why are you practicing that in the middle of summer?” he asks.

Holly stumbles in her little practice slippers and looks at him oddly again. Then, she looks down at the radio and quietly admits, “I saw the older girls practicing it during winter break and thought it was really pretty.”

He's not sure why she's embarrassed.It's definitely beyond her skillset, and it's a dance for two. It's literally in the name of the song. But you can only get better by trying and he's not going to be the one to crush her spirit, so he nods.

“I loved watching my mom do that one when I was younger. It's a favorite.”

“I thought she was a dancer in…Milan?” Holly asks.

“Yeah, I was born there. She tore her ACL when she was thirty-six. I was seven,” he says.

“Isn't Milan in Italy?” she asks.

“Yeah. I kind of miss it.”

“Does she still dance?”

Steve crosses his arms and leans against a random shelf of junk the Wheels have stacked up against the wall. He's not usually asked this much about his family, so it feels awkward to talk about.

“Yeah, just not as often. Or at the same intensity. Now show me your pirouette, I want to see.”

Holly lifts her chin and lifts her arms.

“Ok, stop,” Steve says.

Holly drops her arms and turns to glare.

“I didn't even do anything yet!”

“No, it's ok. I just- you have too much weight on your back leg. It's going to throw off the whole thing. Try again.”

Holly tries again. She does a pretty good job, but she's too quick coming out of it. She stumbles again.

“Try again, and this time, knees over the toes when you plié at the end.”

Holly takes his advice, and slowly, they go over all the little details until she finishes a single wobbly pirouette with a big smile on her face.

“Nice!” he says, giving her a high five.

“Can you do it?”

Steve pauses. He can do it. He can do a lot, actually. He took lessons all throughout childhood in Milan and in Hawkins, and continued dancing with his mother up through high school.

“I mean, I'm not exactly my mom-”

“I just want to see!”

“I don't dance that much anymore-”

“Come on!” Holly insists. She's looking at him with big blue eyes that make her hard to let down. Steve grumbles to himself and toes off his sneakers, kind of regretting he's wearing his old gym shorts because at least he could've used a pair of too-tight jeans as an excuse to say no.

Then, he remembers his gym bag in the trunk of his car, with a collection of strange items. Including his old pointe shoes. He feels a tinge of excitement in his belly. He hasn't danced in so long. The Wheeler garage isn't anything like the studios he grew up around. The floor is all wrong, it smells like paint, and the summer heat is spilling in, already making him sweat. It wouldn't be the best idea, but, well.

It couldn't hurt, could it?

“Ok, start the song over. I'll show you the variation my mom used to do.”

---

“Oh shit, is Steve gone?” Dustin asks as they pack their things up.

“I didn't even notice him leave,” Lucas says.

Eddie feels like a bit of a stalker, because he knows that Steve left his keys on the table when he left to get water. But Dustin is correct that he hasn't been back since.

“Why do you care?” Mike asks.

“He’s our ride home,” Lucas says.

“We still have the bikes,” Mike says.

“My mom would throw a fit if I did that,” Will says.

The boys all nod, and it takes Eddie a moment to remember what happened the last time Will biked home by himself from a D&D session.

“He's probably in the bathroom,” Eddie says as he throws his bag over his shoulder. He was curious, though. Steve usually stuck around and fought sleep. Maybe he got bored? Eddie hoped not, because he couldn't sit there and subtly stare at Steve for hours on end if the guy stopped coming to their nerd meetings.

He trudges up the stairs, ignoring Lucas and Mike’s questions about what's going to happen next- as if he'd ever spoil anything about a future campaign to them.

Then, he hears it.

Classical music? In the Wheeler house? What, was Nancy trying something special to study? He follows the sound of violins through the kitchen and opens the door to the garage, where he stops dead in his tracks.

Steve is dancing.

And he's not just dancing, he's legitimately on the tips of his toes, twirling around like, well. A dancer. He's got those shiny pink slippers ballerinas always wear, which is confusing to Eddie because he's only seen them on girls and the ribbons contrast funny against his leg hair.

His posture is so immaculate, it makes Eddie stand straighter just watching. He's gliding across the garage floor like a rose in a river of trash, on the tips of his toes, every move impossibly gentle but filled with strength. He lifts one leg into the air, much higher than Eddie thought was possible for a man to do, spins more times than he can count, and then slows to a stop with a gentle smile on his face, one arm stretched out, reaching for something.

Then, Eddie sees Holly Wheeler, dressed in a tutu, watching him like he hung the stars in the sky. The music gets louder and more dramatic. Steve throws his head back and then rushes across the floor into an impressive leap, certainly higher than Eddie could ever jump. He can't help but notice how defined the muscles in his legs are as he lands. He lands in front of Holly and bows to her with a sweeping flourish of his arms.

An invitation.

Holly scrambles up and bows back, not nearly as smooth, but clearly with practice. Steve grabs her hand and helps her through a spin, and then suddenly lifts her into the air on his shoulder. She giggles as she brings her hand up, brushing against the garage light above her, then squeals when Steve lowers her, head-first toward the floor. She points her leg out straight, and then Steve puts her down and-

“When the fuck did you learn to do that?” Mike asks loudly.

Steve and Holly jump.

The music continues without them as Holly runs up to Mike and starts babbling something about Italian ballerinas.

Eddie watches Steve. He's doing something weird with his slippers. Adjusting them by kicking them against the floor, or something. The muscles in his thighs effortlessly bulge with the movement. Eddie kind of wants to feel them around his face.

God, Steve had never been hotter.

“Steve! Why didn't you tell me you can dance!?” Dustin demands.

“Uh, my mom does ballet,” he says with a shrug.

“Isn't that for girls?” Lucas jokes.

Holly steps right up to him with her hands on her hips, cheeks flushed with anger. “Boys can do ballet too! Who else is going to lift the girls into the air!?”

Lucas actually takes a step back from her and looks back up at Steve.

“Oh. Uh, I guess not other girls,” he says carefully.

“Exactly!” Holly says.

“Jesus. You hang out with Erica too much,” Mike mutters.

“And you spend too much time in the basement,” Holly says.

Before Mike can think of a response, Eddie waves his hands through the air.

“Ok, ok! Go get your things so Steve can take you home!” Eddie says. Everyone leaves except for Holly and Will. Holly’s standing with her hands clasped behind her back, suddenly looking nervous.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for showing me how to fix my pirouette and that you're really talented,” she says, and then she runs out of the garage.

“...I thought it was really pretty,” Will says softly, cheeks bright pink, before quickly following.

Steve looks at Eddie and lifts his eyebrows.

“That was kind of funny,” he says. Then, he sits on the floor and starts unlacing the slippers.

Eddie's mouth is practically hanging open as he shifts his hips forward and stretches his legs into a split. He's not sure what his face does when Steve reaches his arms in front of him and presses his chest against the floor.

“Oh my god?” he whispers.

So many positions.

So many dirty thoughts.

“Hmm?” Steve says, looking back up at him.

Dustin returns to the garage with his backpack and jumps over Steve, yelling, “Hurry up, we're going to be late!”

“Damn it, Dustin!” Steve yells.

The other kids laugh and jump over him too. He finally sits up and glares at them as they argue over who gets to sit where in his car.

“How long have you been that flexible?” Eddie asks.

“Huh?” Steve asks, clearly distracted. He's moved into some kind of lunge-like position, pushing his hips forward.

Eddie covers his face with his hair and tries not to be a creep, but he's dying to know. Desperate, even.

“Could you, uh, do that back in high school? You know. During all those PE classes I skipped?”

Steve looks at him strangely.

“I mean, no. Guys think it's gay if you can do a split. They would've laughed at me.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, desperately keeping his eyes trained on Steve's face and not the way his shirts bunch around his dick.

“So are you just…showing off?” Eddie asks, gesturing at the show in front of him.

“No, you're supposed to stretch so you don't get hurt,” Steve says slowly. Then, his eyes light up and he quickly stands up, stepping right into Eddie's space.

“Wait, are you flirting with me? Is this whole awkward thing how guys flirt?” he asks, gesturing to all of Eddie with a smile.

Eddie doesn't even have an answer, because no. He was not. He was fantasizing. Daydreaming. Begging the universe to take his side for once. Also what the fuck does he mean, awkward thing?

Steve puts his hands on his hips, looking quite proud of himself for kind of figuring it out though, and says, “Because I can show off. You know, if you want me to.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

“That's a yes?” Steve asks.

“Yeah it's a yes, why would I ever say anything else to that!?” Eddie hisses.

Steve nods and turns back to the car.

“Dustin. Back seat! I'm driving Eddie home too!” he calls out.

“Eddie didn't play rock, paper-”

“I don't wanna hear it!” Steve says. He bends over to slip on his sneakers and Eddie watches him for a moment, wondering exactly what Steve meant by showing off. Steve's acting so normal that he's not even sure they're on the same page. Like, was he just invited to a dance lesson or…?

“Eddie. If you take any longer, I'll assume you're only interested in staring,” Steve says.

He's standing back up now, slippers gripped in one hand and another placed on his hip. He looks a little unimpressed. Eddie's so thrown off that he can't even blame him.

“As opposed to what?” Eddie asks.

Steve scratches his chin and looks away. “Sorry, I thought we were on the same page. Are you not coming over to, you know, see how flexible I can get? I didn't mean to assume. We can just watch a movie or something-”

“No! I am very interested in that! I'm just- I've never had someone offer so blatantly. I was startled.”

“Oh,” Steve says with a very cute frown, “is this not how guys flirt? Have I been doing it wrong?”

The beemer’s horn blasts twice at them, making them jump.

“What the fuck are you two grandpas talking about!? Hurry up!” Dustin yells.

“So are you in or not?” Steve asks, walking backwards toward the car, “because I've got to go.”

“I am so fucking in,” Eddie says, rushing to follow.

He slides into the passenger seat, body buzzing with excitement. Dustin leans over to look between the two of them.

“What was that about?” he asks.

“None of your business,” Eddie says.

“You're acting weird,” Dustin says.

“No I'm not,” Eddie says.

“Eddie and I are going to do adult things with each other after you dweebs leave,” Steve says as he starts the engine. Eddie just about suffers a heart attack. He whips his head around to stare at Steve with shock.

The kids all groan.

“Gross! You know Robin hates when it smells like weed in here!” Lucas says.

“You're turning into Jonathan,” Will mutters.

“I do what I want with my car,” Steve says. He's cruising down the street now, and when he paused at a stop sign, he catches Eddie's eyes with a mischievous smile. “Especially in the back seat.”

Eddie thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

“Well, I'm not helping you clean out the smell after, so don't come crying to me,” Dustin grumbles.

Do I have to say it?

[noxitsnox]

dae-ho bf headcanons

dae-ho x gn!reader

tags: fluff. just that literally.

a/n: my obsession is not limited to hyun-ju only. he's, too, on my mind all day 😔 this is so random but i have to study and i can't because all i think about is him.

he's totally remembering all birthdays, anniversaries and important dates and will buy you flowers on these occasions.

for your birthday he's going to make you feel like the most special person on this planet. you're not allowed to lift a finger because "you'd be stealing his job".

he loves when you organize dates together without telling him where you're going.

he'd be in passenger seat, jumping in anticipation and trying to guess where you're taking him.

it doesn't matter where you two are going, because if you're there than he knows that he's going to spend a great night.

one friday a month you'd be having "cinema nights", where you order take out and watch movies together until one of you falls asleep on the couch.

he has seen all the 00's romcoms (4 sisters guys) but he's favorite movies would be action movies like top gun etc.

he moves a lot in his sleep so it doesn't matter the way you two fall asleep, he's going to end up completely on top of you by the morning.

it's a bit annoying in the summer, but in the winter it's a life saver: dae-ho is literally a human heating pad.

he texts you A LOT during the day. everytime something happens to him he's sending you a message. he could've won billions in the lottery or accidentally stepped on a caterpillar, it doesn't matter, he's going to let you know.

he just wants to share his day with you, so don't get mad if you open your phone amd find out you have 70+ texts from him.

you don't have to answer them, he's going to tell you everything once he sees you at dinner.

if you were already into skincare, you two are definitely going to do it together every night before bed.

ad if you weren't he's going to introduce you to the skincare world and you two will be doing your skincare together before bed anyway.

he'll let you style his hair the way you prefer. he'd even let them grow a bit longer if that's better for the hair styles you're giving him.

he's really just a sweetheart, he deserves the world.

[mrsshabana]

𝐄𝐦𝐨 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x genderneutral!reader, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note A gift for @matsukaah based on a beautiful artwork she did ♡

"Is that Gyutaro Shabana?" You said in disbelief as you saw the familiar boy walking around the mall in heavy emo fashion.

Black nails, eyeliner, ripped skinny jeans, studded belts, and combat boots. He looked like he walked straight out of an early 2000s HotTopic ad.

This isn't how you're used to seeing him. No, at school he's usually dawning the same uniform as everyone else and keeps to himself.

He always seemed so shy and quiet that you never would have imagined this was how he dressed outside of class. Though it makes sense—the prestigious Catholic school would never allow such a thing.

Gyutaro only goes full out like this on long breaks, like summer and winter. Mostly because he'd get annoyed painting his nails every weekend just to have to rub it off before school started on Monday.

God, did he hate that school. He's only going because his stupid stepdad is forcing him to. But if it were up to Gyutaro he wouldn't be in school at all. He much rather start a band with his friends.

Not to mention the constant bullying he goes through. You wouldn't know it because you never hung around him that much, but he gets picked on almost daily. His unconventional appearance and his shy personality make him a prime target for bullies.

Sure, you were nice to him when you'd cross paths but it was never enough to make a significant difference or improve his shitty school experience.

So you could say he's shocked when he sees you approaching him at the mall, waving your hands like you two are friends.

"Uh... hey Y/N," he mumbles when you get close.

"Hey Gyutaro! I like your outfit!" You say with a cheery expression that would annoy him if it was on anyone else's face but yours.

His eyes widen like he can't believe you just complimented him, "Th-thanks... I like your shirt. D-Did you get it at HotTopic?" He asks shyly, not used to having casual conversation with someone as cute as you.

You look down as he points to the anime shirt you're wearing, "Oh, yeah I did. How'd you know?"

"I go there all the time, I've seen it before," he smiles softly and moves a strand of hair out of his face, revealing his red cheeks, "Um... they're actually having their semi-annual sale right now. Maybe... I dunno... we could go check it out together?"

"I'd love to," you blush, surprised that he wants to hang out with you, "Lead the way."

After that day you exchanged numbers and he'd always ask you to go shopping with him. You were the only person besides his sister who knew he was emo, so naturally he loved inviting you out with him so he wouldn't be so lonely.

Despite his intimidating appearance, Gyutaro was a sweet guy. Extremely shy, but super sweet.

He'd be too shy to ask you out on proper dates, only asking you to go shopping with him because he didn't want you to think he was weird or to know that he was crushing on you. But to his dismay, Ume told you exactly how her brother felt about you.

Because the first time you came over to their house she said, "Brother won't shut up about you! It's Y/N this and Y/N that! I think he's obsessed with you. Can you guys just kiss or whatever so he'll stop talking about you all the time? It's like getting annoying."

Gyutaro's face turned red with embarrassment and he ran to his room. He can't believe his sister outed him like that in front of his crush! It's taking all of his willpower to hold back his tears. The only thing stopping them from flowing is knowing that it'll ruin his eyeliner if he cries.

"Hey Gyu... can I come in?" you say as you softly knock on his door. You don't get a response so you enter the room anyways to find him sitting on his bed with his hands covering his face.

He can't bear to look at you as he feels you sit beside him, the embarrassment he feels is overwhelming.

Gently wrapping your hands around his wrists, you move his hands away from his face and stare into his watery blue eyes. The amount of shame and fear in his gaze makes your heart ache.

So in a swift movement, you lean forward and kiss his chapped lips. His eyes widen but he doesn't pull away, instead leaning into your embrace as your acceptance feels too good to ignore.

Once you pull away you smile and move his long hair away from his face, "If I knew you liked me as much as I liked you I would have done that a long time ago."

And that's how your relationship with the shy emo boy began.

[calebsmuse]

੭⠀ Some short scenarios of them seeing you wearing “someone else’s” jacket.

⋆⠀AUTHOR'S NOTES: Caleb’s part can be a little ooc since I still don’t know much about how he is after the accident.

⋆⠀FEATURING: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb.

⋆⠀WARNING: English is not my first language, so it may contain some mistakes.

Linkon isn’t exactly a cold city, especially not in the spring. Maybe it was the wind or the rain that always threatened to fall but never came, but you felt as if even your bones were freezing. And precisely because it wasn’t a cold season, you hadn’t brought any coat to layer over your uniform.

Your only option was to wear the winter uniform jacket provided by the Hunter Association. They were ugly, made from fabric not as good as the uniform itself, and certainly oversized, given they came in a single, standard size for everyone. And so, you did just that—grabbed it from your locker and went outside to wait for your ride.

If you had waited inside, you might not have had to wear that jacket, but you didn’t want to be more inconvenient than you already felt by having someone drive you home. You wanted to delay them as little as possible.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀XAVIER

For someone so calm, he got pretty temperamental when he saw you wearing a coat that was definitely not yours—or so he thought, at least. It was almost funny how he didn’t realize it was just the standard Hunter jacket for cold days.

As soon as you walked out of the building, Xavier was already in front of it, scrolling through his phone. When he heard the click of your heels, he looked up and opened his mouth to speak, but his brows furrowed as his eyes fell on the jacket you were wearing. You found it odd that he didn’t smile when he saw you.

“It’s not that cold.” he said, though he quickly realized he had sounded rude. “That jacket doesn’t look comfortable. Where’s yours?”

You blinked, giving him a smile to mask your confusion. “This one is mine.” Xavier didn’t seem convinced, his hands moving to unzip his jacket. “I forgot my favorite one at home, so I had to wear the uniform jacket.” He paused for a moment, nodded, and then proceeded to take off his own and hand it to you.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀RAFAYEL

He’s so obvious about how he feels—it’s as if the mere sight of the coat is a personal offense to his existence. Rafayel wants you out of that crime against fashion as soon as possible. His eye even twitched when he saw you walking out wearing that thing.

“Very kind of whoever lent you this… thing, but what poor taste. We can’t exactly call it pretty, can we?” he said, letting out a dry laugh as he opened the car door for you to get in.

He didn’t even wait for you to explain, simply getting in and closing the door as soon as you sat down. As the driver began the route, Rafayel turned toward you. “Do me a favor?” His hand took yours and guided it to the hem of his shirt, making you hold it while he pulled off his sweater.

You raised an eyebrow, but he ignored you, holding the sweater out for you to take. “It’s definitely more comfortable than what you’re wearing.”

Although you accepted and removed the jacket to slip on his sweater, you couldn’t resist poking fun at him. “You do know this is mine, right?”

“That atrocity?” He glanced at the jacket now sitting in his lap and smiled. “Then I must say, I thought you had better taste than this.”

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀ZAYNE

Zayne was checking his watch when he heard you greet him, and his response came two seconds late as his eyes landed on what you were wearing. But he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t plan to, either. After all, why would he be upset about you trying to avoid catching a cold…? That was the excuse he used to sweep away the hint of jealousy stirring inside him.

He opened the car door for you to get in, then walked around to the driver’s seat. Meanwhile, you kept chatting away. You knew there were times when he preferred listening to speaking, but he was even quieter than usual.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his hand moving instinctively toward the car’s heater, but you shook your head. Once again, Zayne took a deep breath and nodded, though the unease lingered.

Halfway through the ride, you took off the jacket, folded it, and placed it on your lap, as the temperature inside the car wasn’t chilly—even though the heater remained off.

When you arrived at your house, he got out first to open the door for you, and as soon as you stepped out, you felt something being draped over your shoulders—his overcoat.

“You don’t need to bother, Zayne. I’m already almost inside—” you tried to argue, but he only gave a barely perceptible smile and ignored your words.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀SYLUS

He almost burst out laughing when he saw you approaching, completely ignoring how embarrassed you looked. “Whose thing is that—?”

“I told you to wait at the end of the street, not right in front of the building. Are you trying to get arrested…?” you muttered, while he just bit his lip, trying to hold back the grin already spreading across his face. Still, a flicker of irritation crossed his mind at the thought that someone else might’ve had the chance to offer you a jacket before he did. “And stop laughing! It’s getting cold.”

You reached out for the helmet, but he didn’t hand it over. Instead, he placed it on the seat of the bike and turned around. Taking off his own jacket, he held it out to you. “I’m sure mine’s better than that one.” As much as it hurt your pride, he was right, and you didn’t refuse the offer. “Seriously, to lend someone something of such poor quality…”

“Lend?” you raised an eyebrow as you slipped on his jacket. “Oh. It wasn’t lent—this jacket’s mine.” Sylus smirked, finally handing you the helmet.

“Guess the hunter salary isn’t paying much these days, huh?” he quipped. “I’ve got an opening for a secretary if you’re interested.”

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀CALEB

“Who?” was the first thing he asked, his eyes locking with yours before dropping down to the piece of clothing. He uncrossed his arms, his hand reaching out to pinch the fabric.

“It’s mine. Part of the winter uniform,” you said with a smile. Caleb mirrored it, the corners of his lips lifting just slightly.

He draped an arm over your shoulder as he guided you to where he had parked the car. “It’s way too big for you.” His tone was friendly, though you couldn’t help but sense a hint of bitterness in his words.

“It’s one-size-fits-all. I forgot mine at home, so I had to use this one.” Caleb nodded, and the two of you continued chatting as usual.

“This isn’t the right street,” you pointed out when he passed the turn that would lead to your house.

“We’re shopping first,” he said, giving you a quick glance before focusing back on the road. “We need to buy you some new clothes.”

[mirrology]

I wonder how will the reader in the itoshi brothers x male reader view the snow after the fight of his older brothers there

NOYADE ❛ ❁. ━━ (n.) an execution carried out by drowning. / UN.

❛ ⟡. blue lock, itoshi brothers & male reader. platonic. wc: 1.2k

❛ ⟡ ━━ reader sure is going through it!!! , reader isn't into football ,, communication? I barely know her , more alnst world memories ,, reader misses people who he doesn't even remember , some wholesome moments with Rin & Sae at the end ,, reader, Rin and Sae no longer share a room. this surprisingly took a while （；´д｀）ゞ

❝ It's not the room. Not beginning. Not the crowd. Not winning. ❞ 𓂅 not, big thief.

You lay in the cold embrace of the snow, staring at the gray sky in contemplation. Your arms were slack and spread out in a starfish pose, having just finished making a snow angel. You took a deep breath, feeling the frigid air rush into your lungs, and it hurt as if needles were sinking into them. You shifted to your side, and the iciness of the snow touched your cheek, melting instantly upon contact with your skin.

You closed your eyes, undoubtedly exhausted from the events that had transpired only days ago. Sae had come back from his trip to Spain. You had been watching Rin practice Football from the sidelines after his match since you never got into it like your brothers, nor did you have the talent to.

The eldest walked onto the field. His face had changed since his youth. It was a sad sight; he looked tired. Despite his expression, you felt happy to see him. Next thing you knew, things went south. Sae told Rin that he had given up on his dream, and Rin didn't take it lightly. Hurtful things were said, and you were not acknowledged. Not even once.

You watched with wide eyes and a heavy feeling in your chest as the once fruitful relationship between them crumbled before you. It was cold, too cold. Your hands shook, you were frozen in place as cold beads of sweat ran down your face. You felt useless.

Sae had given you a single glance as he left, a look that sent shivers through your body. Your eyes burned with the urge to cry, but you didn't. You couldn't. Shedding tears was difficult and it was hard to think about it. Instead, here you were, drowning in memories of a fleeting past. The image of music sheets and a boy with silver hair surfaced from the depths of your mind, presented in snippets.

There were two others: one girl had black hair, while the other girl had the brightest pink hair you had ever seen. That was all you recalled, and it frustrated you.

The snow surrounding you melted into your winter coat, ruining the snow angel you had created just moments before. An itch in your nose snapped you out of your daydream, causing your face to scrunch up in discomfort.

You let out a sneeze, which made you open your bleary eyes. Reaching up, you wiped under your nose, cringing in disgust as watery boogers stained the sleeve of your coat.

You returned to your original position by flopping down to your back, groaning as you suddenly felt queasy. Footsteps crunched in the fallen snow as a person walked up to you. A shadow covered the lower half of your body and a familiar voice spoke. "What are you doing?" Rin raised an eyebrow at your dazed expression.

He had changed in these past few days. His outgoing personality had become more closed off and harsher, although not much to you. You merely grunted back at him, too tired to reply verbally. You raised your arms at him, opening and clenching your hands again and again to emphasize that you wanted him to pull you up.

Rin deadpanned up but did what you asked anyway. You stumbled a little as you stood upright as a wave of nausea hit you like a truck.

Rin noticed because of your swaying. He sighed out from his nose and crouched down, signaling for you to get on his back. You blinked and quickly wrapped your arms around his neck as he grabbed your legs to carry you. You buried your face into his neck, mumbling an apology. "M'sorry Rin-nii…" your voice wavered, even though you knew he didn't mind carrying you.

"Why are you apologizing? I don't mind." He fondly spoke, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He started walking back into the house, his body heat helping you stay warm. When the both of you entered he let you down and you took your shoes off at the front door. Once you were done Rin grabbed your hand and let you to your room.

You took off your coat and fell limply onto your bed, just wanting to take a nap and get rid of the nausea. Your brother sighed when he saw your exhausted state, he walked over and covered you in your bed sheets. He smoothed out the edges and gently tucked you in.

Rin nodded at his handiwork and went to leave, although he was stopped by your hand grasping his. He looked back and was met with your pleading face, "Don't leave Rin-nii… please?" you said, your voice slightly hoarse. The former's face softened.

He mumbled out an "Okay." and urged you to scoot over. He laid down beside you and wrapped his arms around you, just like he would when you both were little. You quickly fell asleep, you always did feel safe in his arms.

When you woke again Rin was gone, perhaps he had gone to his room. Your eyes darted to your phone that was on the nightstand next to your bed. Picking it up, you squinted when the harsh light of the phone shone on your face.

You looked at the time, it read 1:49.

It was late and your throat was dry, so you got up to get some water. You snuck downstairs as quietly as you could, grabbed a cup, and filled it with the refreshing liquid. You gulped it down eagerly and let out a relieved sigh when you finished it.

"What are you doing?" A monotone voice said behind you.

Your eyes widened, knowing exactly who it was. You quickly got yourself together and turned around to Sae, meeting his piercing gaze. Bringing up the cup you held, you pointed to it and simply said "Water."

Your voice was still hoarse even after drinking the water and your expression was slightly dazed. Sae narrowed his eyes and reached over to pluck the cup from your hand, and set it down on the counter. He then grasped your hand to pull you out of the kitchen.

"Get back to bed." He murmured, his grip tightening slightly as he felt how warm you were.

"Kay" you replied as you let him tug you back to your room, getting increasingly sleepier. When you both got to your door, he let go of your hand and turned to look at you. You looked back.

It made you nervous just looking at him like this even though it didn't show on your face, since you sported a blank face. But Sae knew he was your brother after all.

Sae reached over and wiped a bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. "Sleep well." He spoke softly and walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway. You touched the spot that he wiped and an indescribable feeling overtook you, maybe he was still the brother you knew.

Whatever, you would think of it tomorrow. You walked to your bed and got under the covers, sleep enveloped you as you thought of your brothers.

The snow made you confused and it was now hard to look at because of the memories attached to it, you want to stay away from it. You were always sensitive to the cold anyway.

[ihni]

Starry-eyed under starry skies

For @weird-an <3

~~~~

“It’s my birthday today,” Steve said, apropos of nothing, swirling his can of soda around and listening to the carbonation fizzle. He could see his breath in front of him, like a cloud of white against the blackness of the January sky.

“Really?” Billy said from his spot next to Steve on the back porch of the Harrington house. He emerged from the thick knitted scarf that he’d wrapped around his neck just long enough to look pointedly over his shoulder at the decidedly empty house. “Then why aren’t there a hundred shitfaced people and a keg in there?”

Steve shrugged, and then couldn’t help but grin at the way Billy immediately buried himself back into the scarf so that it covered both his mouth and (adorably red) nose.

Billy noticed Steve’s grin – because he had an uncanny ability to notice the little things – and narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”

Instead of answering, Steve raised one eyebrow. “You sure you have enough layers, there?”

It was Billy’s second winter in Hawkins, but this time around he’d prepared with tons of second-hand winter clothes which he layered on top of each other, uncaring of how they looked together as long as they kept him warm, claiming that he didn’t care that they didn’t match, because ‘he could make anything look good’.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a point (although Steve secretly thought he looked more cute than good), but perhaps getting possessed by an otherworldly creature who liked it cold also had something to do with Billy’s current fashion choices.

Case in point; “Shut up,” Billy said and looked away, like he always did when something touched a little too close to home. Then he deflected, like he also always did; “Why aren’t you throwing a party if it’s your birthday?”

And Steve dropped it, like he always did. “I am. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Some party,” Billy muttered. “A guy who don’t drink and a guy who can’t smoke.”

After what happened at Starcourt in the summer, Steve had stopped drinking, finding that he didn’t appreciate the loss of control as much as he used to after being drugged and beaten by the Russians. And Billy, well. He only got out of the hospital in November, and the doctors had expressively forbidden him from both drinking and smoking – or, as Billy said, ‘everything fun’ – for at least a year. The two of them had bonded over that, as well as a thousand other things (monsters being one) in the last couple of months, and now they were here. The two of them. Alone in Steve’s backyard.

“I’ve hosted a lot of parties in my day,” Steve said, taking a deep breath of cold air that burned his lungs. He tilted his head back and looked up at the stars, impossibly far from Hawkins, Indiana. “This is better.”

“This?” Billy said, sounding almost incredulous. “Being out in the cold and the dark and watching the sky is better than booze and girls and music?”

And. “Yeah,” Steve said simply, feeling the truth of it in his chest, like released tension.

“How?” It wasn’t said disbelievingly, though, but it sounded as if Billy really wanted to know.

The words slipped out of Steve before he could stop them. “Because you’re here.”

He hadn’t meant to say it; not now, and not out loud. But there was something about the two of them here – next to each other, nursing sodas of all things, braving the cold because Steve wanted to look at the stars – that made the truth so easy to speak. And there was no confusion, no barely-hidden panic like with the Russian truth serum. It was just Steve, and Billy, and the starry sky.

At his words, though, Billy let out a breath as if he’d been punched. His eyes widened, and if he hadn’t been hiding behind three layers of wrapped-up scarf, Steve was sure that he’d see his mouth fall open.

“You …” he said, and shook his head a little before looking away. “You can’t just say shit like that, Harrington.” Always Harrington, when he was uncomfortable.

“Why not?” Steve asked, feeling brave for once. “It’s just the two of us here.”

The moment stretched out between them, and he could hear Billy as he swallowed hard … and after a second or so too long, Steve gave a little shrug, trying not to feel disappointed as he added, in a too-obvious attempt to break the tension, “Besides, it’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want.”

Billy huffed, and Steve expected him to jump on the opportunity to steer the conversation back to safer grounds … But he didn’t. Instead, he dug into the pocket of his (eyesore of a) winter jacket and pulled out a misshapen, badly wrapped little bundle, and half-shoved it into Steve’s chest.

“Here,” he muttered. “For you.” And then, in a lower voice, “Happy birthday or whatever.”

A thrill of something warm shot through Steve as he took the little present from Billy’s mitten-covered hand. He glanced over at Billy, eyebrows raised in question – “You knew it was my birthday?” – and watched Billy shrug and not meet his eye.

He’d gotten presents from others earlier in the day – from his parents, from Robin, even from Dustin – but this felt different. None-too-gently tearing the paper open with stiff fingers, he let out a little laugh when he saw what was inside.

“I saw it and thought of you,” Billy said, and Steve looked up fast enough to catch him watch Steve with something like fondness, before he averted his eyes yet again.

It was a little Care Bear plush, light yellow in color and with the image of a cupcake on its belly. The cupcake held a single birthday candle, and the bear had a plastic heart-shaped nose, which Steve couldn’t help pushing at with a finger.

The bear was soft to the touch, and Steve suddenly felt soft, too. “He’s cute.”

A beat; two. Then, “Yeah. That’s what made me think of you.”

Steve’s head shot up in surprise, and this time Billy didn’t look away. His face was red – could be because of the cold, but it could also be something else – and he straightened up and worked the scarf bundle down with his chin so that Steve could see him properly. “It’s nothing, just a stupid bear. But I, uh.” His eyes flicked to the side for a second, but then he looked back, as if determined to see this through. Whatever this was. “I have something else for you, too.”

Steve waited – for what, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing and dispelling the crisp feeling in the air between them – and watched as Billy drew himself up and took a deep breath. His breath came out in a cloud, too, and for a second Steve imagined the cloud sticking to Billy’s lashes and freezing there, like tiny crystals, glittering like snow. How would it look, and how would they feel when melting against Steve’s skin?

“Close your eyes,” Billy said, and Steve did, because right now Steve couldn’t deny Billy anything.

Holding the little bear in one hand and the soda can in the other, Steve stood there with his eyes closed. The darkness became all-enveloping, the cold became sharper, and all the little sounds around them – the creak of the branches in the woods in front of them, the electric hum of the outdoor lamp behind them, the distant sound of a car driving down a street – became all that he could hear.

And then. Warm lips pressing against his, a cold nose touching his cheek; there for a heartbeat, two – and then gone. He opened his eyes and found that Billy was right there, not gone at all, just having drawn back an inch or two. His blue eyes were open wide and shiny, the porch lights reflecting in them like the brightest stars in the sky. Billy swallowed and licked his lips before saying, hoarsely, “Happy birthday, Steve.”

Steve, not Harrington, despite being uncomfortable, despite being visibly terrified.

And wasn’t that the best birthday present Steve had ever gotten? Hell. Closing that one or two inches of distance to kiss Billy again was the easiest thing Steve had ever done.

~~~~

(Also works, quite incidentally really, for the @harringrovewinterbingo, square C3, prompt "Starry sky, starry-eyed".)

[minziemoon]

Life Series Rare Pairs I Wanna See More Of

Inspired by everyone else on my tl posting their dream team lineups for a life series season, I decided to do my own by thinking of the most random combinations I can imagine that would be entertaining to witness. Some of these are gonna be more detailed, some are just for vibes, and some for shits and giggles. Also I haven't watched every single pov of every single series, and I have the memory of a goldfish sometimes, so forgive me if these aren't all THAT rare. 🙏

1. Cleo + Jimmy

- This duo materialized itself in my brain after a random wild life episode from Jimmy's pov where he had a near death experience and ran to Cleo for comfort. It's occupied a lil corner of my brain ever since.

- I think Jimmy would really benefit from someone like Cleo on his side. Someone who you know you can rely on and come back to whenever you're in need of help. Unless you betray them, Cleo is such a good teammate and has a mom/older sibling feeling to her.

- I can imagine she'd spend half the season convincing Jimmy not to go poking fun at ppl and making enemies, only for her to snap once someone kills her unjustly and goes on to commit arson apon half the server. Then the roles would switch.

2. Gem + BigB

- The difference between Cleo and Jimmy's paragraphs to these two... I told yall some of them are just fueled by the potential of vibes.

- I have no clue how these two would function together. They barely even interact. But that's exactly why I want them together!!!

- I feel like they'd be really wholesome. Knowing Gem she'd bring out the best in him... but I also feel like B would once again betray or back stab her in some way. Either way I've become too curious and invested now.

3. Grian + Pearl

- The fact that the skyblings themselves are a rare pair nowadays is concerning. They don't interact NEARLY enough. The amount of wasted potential is to cry about.

- I feel like they'd be all up in other ppl's business. If Pearl were to turn red before Grian, I think he'd have the same dynamic with her like with red lifer Scar in 3rd life, supporting and encouraging her crimes from afar, really birthing another menace on the server.

- They'd have the time of their lives while red together and I'd be SEATED.

4. Mumbo + Tango

- One episode they're the most miserable wet cats on the map, the next their trap kills half the server. Their fate as a duo would be a gamble.

- Idk if their combined brain power would cancel each other out or multiple. Most likely cancel out. Because putting an uncontrolable nervous wreck with the ticking timebomb of unhingness CAN NOT turn out positive.

- Still, it would be SO entertaining and probably make for funny quotes.

5. Lizzie + Bdubs

- It felt like my brain glitched a lil when remembering these two.

- I feel like they'd be weirdly wholesome?? Like they wouldn't stress each other out. Maybe Bdubs' vocal coards could finally catch a break from yelling every episode. Also lowkey feel like he'd try his best to protect her.

- Pls Watchers, let them build some cute cotteges in the woods somewhere in peace 🙏

6. Ren + Scar

- Ik they aren't THAT rare to see together, but the fact that they've never been close to teaming before is astonishing to me.

- If Scar doesn't turn Ren's thing with Martyn into a love triangle by the end of the season, no one else ever will. The Red Winter would rise once again, but with two kings this time.

- I just wanna see theater kids have fun, okay? Sue me if you must. Martyn can join in too I would not mind in the slightest.

[hatefulbread]

january feels and reads

it's a cold southern morning where i am, and getting started has been more difficult than i can grasp.

this winter reminds me of the winters i grew up with; freezing nights, not a week goes by without flurries or freezing rain, oil radiators at the ready for when the heat pump can't keep up. we haven't had a winter like this in over 12 years and it makes me wonder if i was this reluctant to get out of my warm bed as an adolescent.

when it's this cold in the morning, snow piled on the ground right outside my window, all i want is to curl up under my calico quilt with a serene book and a velvet latte. it feels criminal to give up this simple want to log into a laptop and stare at spreadsheets for hours on end. especially when the sun goes down at 5pm.

i spoke with my mom for some time last night about this seasonal dip in energy and fervor. everyone i speak to these days feels the same. it makes me wonder what our lives would be like if society would just let us hibernate for a single season. don't we deserve it?

anyway- i came here to share my upcoming reads with you, not drone on about the winter sorrows.

upcoming reads for this month;

1. 'our wives under the sea' by julia armfield

2. 'butter' by asako yuzuki

3. 'the sentence' by louise erdrich

4. 'the end of the world is a cul de sac' by louise kennedy

i often read multiple books at once so my adhd can wander as it pleases. i couldn't tell you how i'm able to keep up with them all, especially because reading is the only thing i can do this with.

i woke to a sweet comment on my first post from someone searching for a new platform for community, as am i. as many of us are aware, tiktok is going away within a few days. i am one of many who found such amazing community on that app, both in the booktok community and the sapphic community. i feel so upset with our government for having to let go of such a shaping part of my personhood, all under the guise of national security. we're losing our ability to see raw and real news in real time and i hope we can all take a stand to reject this censorship.

i'm confident we can all find that community somewhere else, though it may take time. none of us are new to trial and error, so persist, we shall. perhaps tumblr will be that community for us. perhaps perhaps perhaps. see you soon.

[jungkooktarot]

The truth about Jungkook’s ships | tarot reading

I got multiple requests about whether any of these ships were real, so I combined them in one post

Lisa: they didn’t date. they likely didn’t have feelings for each other even. and I don’t see that they’re friends either. but they both were aware of the ship, and it kind of created this tension between them, especially in the past years. if someone had slight feelings for the other, it’d be lisa. but still nothing big. she found him to be cute. he found her pretty and exotic. he liked her enthusiasm when performing. – the tension I talked about isn’t there anymore. they both forgot about the ship and don’t really think about each other almost at all. i think we all can tell that the ship has died.

Sana: there’s a possibility that they dated. if not then they were friends. we all know how twice & bts were close pre 2020 and I wouldn’t be surprised if even more members dated within these groups. however, this relationship feels quite old, like they broke up long ago and now their energy towards each other is cold. they moved on with their lives. I’m seeing the reason for the breakup is that jungkook was behaving childishly? I mean he’s younger than her anyway. but he was a bit childish and reckless, and I’m sensing more hurt energy on her side. I can’t see what happened exactly. it was nothing too dramatic though. (He’s also shipped with other twice members but considering he’s dated sana, they’re obviously fake)

Yeri: they also have possibly dated. it’s like 50/50. and she could have been one of his most genuine exes. pure intentioned and had his best interest at heart. however, their reason of the breakup also seems to be caused by jungkook. now there are 2 possibilities: he either cheated, even though it’s more likely unintentional? more on the emotional side. or he asked for the breakup because he wanted to fully focus on his career. they were dating during a time where bts were just getting widely recognized. it hurt her for sure but she was quite understanding.

Winter: nothing at all. they didn’t date, didn’t feel anything for each other and barely interacted. i’m trying to pick up on anything but there’s nothing really. the rumors were created out of the blue by someone who’s bored (just like most of his ships because he’s basically shipped with the entire industry). the most they could think of about each other is that they are good singers.

Rosé: they didn’t date either. but there could have been little feelings. even though I think the word “crush” is a bit too much? there was some admiration. I always believed that rosé in general is an army lol. and jungkook, he likes her voice so much. it touches him. so it’s more like being fans of each other.

Chaewon: it’s a bit confusing. but it’s leaning more towards a friendship. jungkook definitely was a fan of izone (we all know how big izone were) so he felt an ego boost when chaewon & sakura joined bighit. the company his group brought to be this big. he thinks she’s cute and he admires le sserafim in general. he feels like a proud senior. like a big brother. he’s definitely friends with the group and they could go on friendly dates. the energy is more lighthearted. It’s like “we are a work family” or something. even if he dated her or someone from the group, it doesn’t feel that serious.

These are the most popular ships. You can tell me if there are more & I’d make part 2

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Aussie remedy - Manager! Daniel Ricciardo x reader

cw: descriptions of having a cold/being sick and going to work (don't do this, folks), tasty power imbalance, oral (m receiving), temp play (ice), slight degradation and mean!daniel, coercion if you squint, horny trumps professionalism, spoiler tag that rhymes with ****** ******

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Daniel pocketed his uniform pants for his lighter and came up empty-handed. He let out a groan when he couldn't find the precious object. That meant he had to go back to the crew changing room and find it in his jacket. This whole exercise ate a minute from his precious 5. Maybe smoking cigarettes was a disgusting habit he should quit. But managing so many hotheaded people every day was getting a little bit too much for the 35 year old. And even though lately, he's been using some unorthodox methods of stress relief, good old nicotine was still a need.

He didn't expect to be stalled again, but he heard the others through the open back door. They were talking about you. Hearing them speak your name did something to him. Because it had practically become his, with the amount of times he'd whisper it, moan it, grunt it. But to see it followed by "isn't she so incompetent today" and "she looks fucking spaced out". Apparently someone even overheard you saying that you were feeling sick after the holidays. Daniel wonders why you would even show up. He has to hide in the trash room to avoid the gossiping smokers. Having to speed through his cigarette, his fingers still reek of nicotine as he holds his clipboard. He looks at it. At you. You've been at your shift for a couple of hours already, while he's only been around you for 15 minutes. You seemed fine. But as he looks at you from across the shitty fast food restaurant, he notices that you are slower. You're forgetting sauces or mispacking orders, forcing customers to have to circle the drive-through. The response time is in the dumps and you're fucking coughing. He can see you sneeze trying to blame it on dust. He is fucking livid. It all tips over when he sees you slink off to the drink station and drop a tablet into a sprite filled crew cup.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you serious going to take meds with a fucking soda on the job? That was it. He moves past you and asks you to come and check something about your mandatory lunch break times. You agree immediately, nodding. But that's not enough for Daniel.

"Can I get a verbal confirmation?" He says, testing you, teasing you, using his bedroom voice.

"Yes." You say finally, but your voice is rough and scratchy. He can hear you're sick. He gets even more pissed. Especially when you take your FDA disapproved drink and follow him. He locks the door behind you, and you're already scrambling to undress on the couch that's cramped in the corner.

"That's not why I called you in, Jesus. Are you ill? No, let me be clearer. Are you showing up sick to work, creating a health hazard for not only your colleagues but also the customers?" Daniel says, full manager mode. He half-listens to your spiel about how you already had time off for both Christmas Eve and the day after. Not that he didn't know, you two spent the holidays in "couples" mode, going on cute little winter dates, sharing hot cocoa and the like. But for the actual end of the night, he left you to "party" with your friends like it was traditional for you. What you failed to mention is that you cramped too many girls into your single small room. And as the host, with only one bed, you took the floor. Danny had an opening shift on the 25th, so presents and the rest were left for New Years. Which you only managed to get off thanks to a shift swap. Daniel remembered signing off on that, happily allocating you to a time slot close to his. That's why it's weird for him to tell you.

"Go home."

"No." You reply.

"I'm sorry, no?" He wonders. Since when did you wear the white button-down in the relationship?

"I work closing. Judging by the fact that Carlos came in before you, I'm guessing you do too. I wanna help you out. It's just a stuffy nose." You say, reaching out for your apron pocket. You mock press the nasal spray lightly.

"Put it on, then. Let's see it fix you." He says, eyes dark.

You roll your eyes slightly. You've never seen Danny pissed off at you. Yeah, he'd been a little mean when you'd mess up a few ice creams in a row or stall a customer. But that was just a front to dispel any "special treatment" rumors. Still, you take a funky position on the couch, tipping your head off it. Gotta tilt the spray in properly. You sniff and cough a little, opting to breathe from your mouth. Daniel just watches you, and feels complicated. He's sorry for you, and that you're suffering. He's pissed that you put yourself in that situation in the first place. His doll, too fucking nice to tell other people that they can take the floor since the gathering is in your fucking house. Livid that you hid this from him and that you're still not understanding that it's a big deal. Oh, he could teach you. Watching you like this reminds him of an article he thumbed through once in men's health or something. An upside down blowjob was supposed to feel very intense. That was one way to ensure you're breathing through your nose.

"You ever seen the old Spiderman movies, darling?" He asks as he bends down to kiss you. It takes getting used to. It's a bit clumsy, but you're on him, hot and needy. He remembers the last time he had a partner before you and how they were like a cat in heat when they were sick. Danny keeps kissing you, and smirks at your needy, yet nasal whine. Your breathing sounds a bit clearer, albeit the occasional interruption by a cough.

"Wanna try an Aussie cure? A big thick lozenge to remind you to listen." He suggests, palming his election. Daniel knows that even a little kissing has gotten you horny. He knows that his white uniform shirts and presses pants do it for you. The name tag too. Once you jokingly pinned it to your underwear, claiming that you'd wear it like that. You were lucky you did this on a day off, because he let you cum only at the phrase "My pussy belongs to my manager, Daniel Ricciardo." moaned out louder each time. So he's not surprised when you beg for his cock, asking him to "warm your throat.". He slides unbuttons his pants and slides them to his knees, along with his boxers. He doesn't let you start off with kitten licks, or kisses to his tip. No, he buries himself to the hilt, til your bottom lip is in his happy trail and your nose is right against his scrotum. Fuck it, men's health was right. You attempt to take him, to move, to suck, to hollow your cheeks, something. But no avail. Danny controls the pace, his thick hips thrusting in and out. Until you gag. He slides out and it's messy. Your saliva drips out, landing straight on your forehead and rolling down.

"Look who can't breathe through their nose properly. Say sorry to the customers and we can try again." You echo the sentence and he's gentler this time. More careful, but faster, and when his fingers trace your neck, you gag again. This time it's worse, more coughing and almost sputtering. He has you apologize to the crew and for the third time slides his throat past your lips. This time it's the last bit of minty nasal spray hitting you. You gag again. After a "I'm sorry, manager Daniel, sir.", it's fine. You can breathe properly and finally get the hang of it. You hollow your cheeks and fucking moan at the relief of breathing properly again. You try to angle your tongue so it can brush against your boyfriend's tip and it works. After a few more thrusts, Danny's coming down your throat, instructing you to swallow it all. You do. You use the back of your apron to wipe any drool or snot from your face. You're ready to return to the floor when he stops you.

"Now, where are you going, darling. You look absolutely flushed. No way you're going out this red. Let's cool you down." He says. In about 20 seconds he's out the door and back again. You look at his hand and see it holding ice in a plastic blue glove. The machine for it was right across, you reason. Daniel makes you strip naked, not wanting to make your uniform "messy". He rubs the ice cube against your nipples, listening to you plead and moan that it's cold.

"I bet it is, but you have to learn, doll. This is your punishment for not staying home. Bad girls have to deal with this if they wanna stay until closing. Which you do, don't you?". He asks. With almost a sob, yes, you let the freezing object burn against your hot skin. Danny slides it from one breast to another, tongue replacing it . His beard against your sensitive nipples makes you trash around and swear. Your manager's hand slides down your soaked underwear, and he slides it to the side. The icecube leaves your chest and is pressed against your entrance.

"Will you let me do this, doll? Let me make you feel nice and cool inside? Let boss Danny become doctor Danny, yeah. Let me show my sick girl what's good for her?" He asks, letting you back out. You both know that one word (chili sauce, for those curious), and you're done. But you don't say that. You want this, albeit in your slightly delusional state. You want to cum at work, to leave your mark on the leather couch, to have Daniel take you there using the same stern voice as he does when you need to refill the shake machine. When you say the titular, "Yes, please." , he holds you open and slides the ice cube in. The best things about these frozen things from the machine? They don't melt, like the ones in ordinary households. The cold is shocking, and Danny shushes you as you squirm around. His two fingers on your clit certainly make it better. He wastes no time, seeing how wet you are.

"All soaked for me, aren't you. Waiting on me to ruin you. Bet you wanted to get on my nerves tonight to make everything harder on your old man, Daniel. I know why you wanted to be on closing shift, so I could take you home and fuck you. Give you some vitamin D for your cold." He teases, rubbing, listening to the wet, squelching noise. Almost like ocean waves on his favorite beach in Australia. He starts to daydream of taking you there and the other way of taking you there when there's a pounding at the door.

"Daniel, there's a customer asking for allergy information and we need a manager." Your colleague says through the door.

"Just ask Liam, he's next in line for the promotion anyway. I don't care that he's just a crew trainer." Danny says, looking at you. You're close, he knows your tells. Your eyes closing, your legs that he has to keep spread, your bottom lip between your teeth.

"He went on lunch and refuses to clock back in." They reply.

"Shit, okay, just give me a sec to save this document.". In record time Daniel redresses you, sans bra and panties though. He makes sure your apron is around your neck and not your waist and helps you stand up. You can feel the icecube inside of you are about to plead for him to not do this. But there's no use. You deserve this. You played stupid games and now it's time to collect your stupid prizes. You just hope you can sneak out and take a five minute break when Danny lets you. You didn't wanna end up even more sick, after all.

[liliesmultiverse]

⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙- *̩̩̥͙ things i'm most excited for in my home reality!!

: ̗̀➛ my relationship. this is what i’m most excited for, my relationship with aaron. we’re quite literally soulmates and i don’t care if it’s cheesy to script that. it’s a private relationship because honestly it’s nobody’s business but ours. we haven’t even told our families yet but they’ll find out at christmas. we don’t exactly plan on announcing it publicly anytime soon. we aren’t gonna hide it though, we’re just gonna let people speculate until we are ready to officially come out with it. and oh my god, i scripted he has a few tattoos as well but there’s one that i absolutely love & am 100% gonna lick. eventually. anyways… just look up james potter tattoo and you’ll see what i mean.

: ̗̀➛ my parents relationship. i absolutely adore my mom, she’s my favorite person in the entire universe and she deserves someone who’s hopelessly devoted to her. like my dad (chris) absolutely adores her and practically worships the ground she walks on. he brings her to every single one of his movie premieres and all of the award shows. he spoils the absolute fuck out of her and is just absolutely in love with her.

: ̗̀➛ the greenhouse. okay, so i scripted me & aaron have a greenhouse a few yards away from the house and it’s huge. like it has two stories, huge. imagine the greenhouse from hogwarts legacy, okay? it’s really really beautiful too. intricate glass, ivy crawling up the sides in random directions, a cobbled-dirt path leading from our back patio to it, fairy lights lighting up the path. we only have plants on the first floor right now but we hope to eventually have plants growing on the second floor too.

: ̗̀➛ my fans & community. definitely one of my favorite parts. there’s a ton of extremely talented editors, fanfic writers, etc. everyone is extremely kind as well and my community is very welcoming. it’s a free & open space where you can talk about anything, even shifting. no hate happens and anyone who tries to is completely ignored and blocked immediately. they’re also very patient and treat me as a human instead of demanding content on a daily basis, which makes me feel bad bc i haven’t been streaming on twitch or uploading youtube videos since my break-up with reneé :(

: ̗̀➛ winter snow. starting from the first day of the season to the last day of the season, it snows all season long no matter where i am in the world because having lived in a state that rarely gets snow in this reality fucking. sucks.

: ̗̀➛ stargazing. i’ve scripted there’s absolutely no light pollution, never has been and never will be. i want to be able to enjoy late night stargazing picnics with my boyfriend. i want to be able to search for constellations and point them out happily when i find them. i just want nights with a sky filled with stars.

: ̗̀➛ the marauders fandom. i have made some major changes to this fandom because holy fuck, i love the marauders but the fandom sucks in this reality. for starters, it’s a lot less toxic. everyone’s headcanons & opinions are respected and haters are blocked immediately instead of being interacted with. like my community, it’s also open and welcoming to any new fans. i did script a certain ship (not starchaser) was a lot less popular so it doesn’t appear in nearly every single fic and that a certain fanfic doesn’t exist as well. i’m not saying which ship & fic but the two coincide so i’ll let you guess.

: ̗̀➛ the food. oh my god the food. it tastes 1000x times better but especially when aaron cooks for me. he’s an amazing cook and is even learning how to cook italian dishes. all the food he makes is completely homemade as well so just ughhh. i also scripted that water tastes like cherries.

[inthedarknessofnight]

I watched The Holdovers for the first time over the holidays (loved it btw), and for some reason I've also been getting flashbacks to last year when I basically devoured The Secret History and If We Were Villains back to back... And because I have this little devil on my shoulder constantly telling me to Steddie-fy everything, my brain immediately went like, ‘but what if Steve and Eddie both ended up stuck at their college campus over winter break.’ Consider this my pathetic attempt at their little forced-proximity romance story.

So, without further ado, I give you... Part 1

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Steve Harrington leaned out of his dorm room window, filling his lungs with the chilly air of a New Hampshire winter morning. Underneath him, the courtyard was brimming with students scurrying left and right, bags of various shapes and sizes slung over their shoulders, and even an occasional suitcase being dragged through the wet slush that covered the paved pathways, courtesy of last night’s snowstorm. Lively chatter echoed off the walls of the residence halls enclosing the courtyard, as his fellow students tried to squeeze in as many well-wishes, festive greetings, and goodbyes as they could, before their designated rides took them to whichever overpriced holiday destination their families chose this year. Steve tried his best to avoid getting too morose about it all, focusing on fumbling around his jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter. He knew Patrick, their resident assistant, would have been on his ass before he even drew the first breath, but to everyone’s great surprise, he’d started his holiday a week early, prompting Steve and pretty much every other person in the building to take up smoking out of the window.

As soon as the first plume of smoke hit his lungs, Steve could feel the negative thoughts trickling away. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and exhaled, savouring the moment. Unfortunately, his moment of bliss was short-lived, as Tommy Hagan barged into his room in his usual fashion—without so much as a knock.

“Harrington! You trying to get sent home or something?” Tommy asked, an annoying smirk stretching across his face.

“Fuck you, Hagan. I’m not that stupid, okay? RA’s gone, it’s basically a free-for-all over here,” Steve replied nonchalantly and leaned out again, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Alright, alright, we get it, Henderson Hall’s the coolest. Unless y’all burn it down,” Tommy clicked his tongue, “then, probably not so much,” he delivered what, Steve could only assume, was supposed to be the punchline. When Tommy realised Steve wasn’t going to deign that with a response, he merely scoffed and continued.

“So, hey. I thought I’d check if you’ve changed your mind about that ski trip? I know you said you wanted to stay here, catch up on whatever crap you’ve got going on with that ridiculous degree of yours, but…” Steve glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Tommy quirk an eyebrow at him suggestively. “Well, Carol stayed at that same place with her family last year, and according to her, they have a sauna and, like, a bunch of hot tubs. And, umm… Tammy will be there, if you know what I mean,” Tommy winked at him.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction Tommy expected from him, especially since he’d never really had a thing for Tammy beyond them hooking up a few times during their first year of college. In fact, he had no intention of going on that trip if Phoebe Cates herself walked in and personally offered him daily blowjobs. But he couldn’t exactly look Tommy in the eye and say, ‘Funny story—I got into a fight with my dad because he’s being an asshole, and now he’s refusing to give me any more money unless I come home and talk it through with him in person’. Instead, it was easier to turn around, face Tommy, and say…

“Nah, man. Already told my parents I can’t come to Cancun with them, because I need to study or I might fail and waste three years’ worth of their precious investments in my education,” which they didn’t even approve of in the first place, Steve finished the sentence in the privacy of his own mind. “They’d probably skin me alive if they found out I blew them off just so I could run off with you guys.” At least he didn’t have to lie about that last part.

“Dude, aren’t you, like, majoring in philosophy, or some shit? I thought you guys just sit around and talk all day,” Tommy scoffed. Philosophy and drama, actually, Steve thought, but knew all too well the addition would do little to help his case, so he didn’t bother correcting him.

“Yeah, well… Apparently, you have to have at least some idea what you’re talking about before you get to ‘just sit and talk,’” Steve countered. “But, hey, for all it’s worth, I really appreciate the offer, man. You enjoy that sauna for the both of us, okay?” He threw Tommy a wink, which immediately caused him to cringe internally. Tommy, resigned to being unable to persuade him, simply shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t get you man but, uh, suit yourself,” Tommy said after a brief moment of consideration and gave Steve a dismissive wave. “Have a good one. I’ll see you after break, Harrington,” he added before promptly turning his back to Steve and exiting the room.

With Tommy gone, Steve felt like he could finally breathe again. The feeling didn’t last, though. A cold breeze blew through the open window, bringing with it a familiar feeling of loneliness that always settled deep inside his bones. Steve knew all too well the feeling had nothing to do with a little movement of air. Because it felt more like an old wound reopening. Because maybe it’s always been here, Steve admitted quietly. Etched into his skin. Blended into his marrow. Flowing through him like blood through his veins. It was the kind of cold he couldn’t just close a window on, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he opted to close the one in front of him, making sure to stub out the cigarette he’d left burning on the windowsill before lowering the window pane and twisting the handle. He leaned his forearms on the inner ledge and rested his forehead against the cool glass. It was only a few weeks. He could do this. After all, he was used to empty rooms and haunted halls—these just happened to be slightly bigger empty rooms and haunted halls. Right?

—

Steve Harrington had never been more wrong. By the time day three of his self-imposed exile rolled around, he was fairly certain he was losing his mind. The worst thing was, he couldn’t do anything about it.

The first weekend passed with little fanfare, the campus growing quieter with each passing day. From Monday morning onwards, the whole thing was practically haunted. In fact, Steve was the only occupant left in Henderson Hall, barring some guy in the room down the hall from him. Steve didn’t really know him, but he was pretty sure he was a Music major—a suspicion the asshole happily confirmed by treating the seemingly empty dorm to a full-on concert in the middle of the night. When Steve ran into him in the dorm’s communal kitchen the following morning, the guy looked startled by his presence at first, then simply offered Steve an apologetic smile and mumbled something under his breath before darting out. Great, Steve thought to himself and slumped against and empty chair at the dining table. He was already well on the way to going batshit crazy, and now, his only company was the dorm’s resident weirdo. To be fair, there were at least two other people on campus that he was presently aware of, down the road in Mayfield Hall: a girl from the languages department he knew from Mrs. Click’s first-year rhetoric class, but wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with, and a girl he was pretty sure was in the Dance program, since they’d attended a movement class together the previous year. He’d noticed the former while out on one of his regular morning runs, catching sight of her just as she slipped on a particularly nasty patch of the frozen path, landing gracelessly on her backside. He went off course to help her and make sure she was okay, but she merely levelled him with a deadly stare. That was all the encouragement Steve needed to get the hell out of there.

With no company to save him from boredom and distract him from the gnawing sense of loneliness, Steve kept busy as best as he could. He even came to consider the dining hall being closed for the holidays a small mercy, as he occupied himself with planning his meals and taking the time to prepare them. On Tuesday, he made the short, fifteen-minute drive to the nearest town and bought a week’s worth of groceries, in case the weather prevented him from being able to make that trip again in the coming days. Steve was happy to find the fridge in the communal kitchen nice and empty for once—well, except for a frankly impressive supply of beer, which he could only assume belonged to the other remaining resident. 

Speaking of the rather unusual fellow—they’d started to develop a sort of quiet camaraderie, the two of them. They would usually bump into each other at lunchtime and again at dinnertime, and once Steve had been able to let go of the resentment he held towards his fellow resident, for the little nocturnal performance he put on the first night, they’d even gone as far as greeting each other.

“Hey, man,” the other guy would say, as he leisurely strolled into the kitchen, normally around noon, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hi,” Steve would reply, giving a quick nod and small smile.

And that’s essentially how the entire first week of winter break went by. Slowly, Steve began to find comfort in the little routine they’d established. In a way, it soothed the ache inside him, to know that, without fail, his weird neighbour would always wake up way too late and meet him in the kitchen at mealtime to exchange a greeting or two. The guy had even taken to hovering there while Steve finished whatever dish he was making that day, and Steve was surprised at how quickly he became used to his quiet company (and Steve was applying this term liberally, by the way, since the guy clearly found it impossible to move around without making an array of random sounds). But despite how strange he was, Steve found his presence oddly calming, if not comforting. It also gave Steve a little insight into his habits, which were no less strange than the man himself. Over time, Steve noticed the guy seemingly lived on nothing but Cheerios, beer, and the occasional microwave meal. It made Steve wonder how the hell he was still alive—or how he managed to keep such a slender physique. Not that he’d been paying much attention to said physique, of course. Steve guessed he was just one of those people who lucked out with their metabolism. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the man’s curious gaze on him every time he saw Steve crafting his next meal. It even got to the point where Steve was half-convinced he could hear the guy sniffing the air as soon as he walked into the kitchen at mealtime, but whenever Steve glanced over his shoulder to check for proof, the other man immediately corrected himself, pretending to be occupied with with trivial tasks, like pouring more milk into his already full bowl of cereal. 

Steve found it sort of endearing—and, if he was being totally honest, it filled him with a sense of pride, to see another person react to his cooking that way. He loved cooking. Hell, he loved cooking for other people even more than he did himself, even if that opportunity rarely presented itself. True, he’d gained his cooking skills mainly out of necessity, having to take care of himself from a young age, but he knew not everyone grew up with a fully stocked pantry and the same resources and tools he had at his disposal. Who was he to assume that hadn’t been the case for his mysterious roomie? At the end of the day, even if he turned out to be too lazy to cook, it wouldn’t kill Steve to toss a double portion of spaghetti into the water and add a bit more tomato purée to his sauce—it would still be the most nutritious meal the guy’s had in days. If nothing else, you’ll gain a new friend and maybe you won’t have to do this alone, his brain supplied. Steve pushed the thought to the back of his mind. 

Emboldened by his newfound purpose, Steve put down the book he’d been trying to get through for the past week and made it for the kitchen. If he was lucky, he still had about two hours before his neighbour got up, which should give Steve enough time to have the sauce ready by the time the guy walked into the kitchen. At 12.30 pm, like clockwork, a familiar mop of curly hair peeked through kitchen door.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, his voice still groggy. Steve smiled to himself. He was nothing if not consistent. Not wanting to spook him by being too forthcoming, Steve stirred the sauce a few more times, then turned to face the guy fully and opted for one of his warmer smiles, as he said, “Hi.”

In his sleep-addled state, he didn’t seem to suspect that anything was out of the ordinary. Steve watched him go through his usual routine of dumping a bunch of cereal into a bowl and retrieving the milk from the fridge. He sat down at the opposite side of the dining table, facing Steve, and moved to pour the milk over his cereal. Steve couldn’t, in good conscience, let him ruin a perfectly good bowl of cereal if he decided to accept his offer (he was decidedly not getting ahead of himself just there), so he figured now was as good a time as any to speak up.

“You do realise you can’t keep eating cereal every day for the next three weeks, right?” Steve said, making sure to keep his tone light and playful. The last thing he wanted was for the guy to think he was judging his eating habits. He set the timer for the spaghetti, then leaned against the counter next to the stove and crossed his arms. Across from him, the poor guy seemed to have stopped dead in his tracks, still holding his milk at an angle. Confusion was clearly written all over his face, as he grappled with the fact that Steve had just addressed him directly. He looked up at Steve from beneath his messy fringe, big brown eyes slowly traveling upward until they were level with Steve’s, unsure whether he was allowed to look or not. It crossed Steve’s mind that he looked every bit like a frightened young deer, and he had to mentally stop himself from letting out a laugh.

“Umm… sorry?” His eyes darted confusedly between Steve and the offending bowl of cereal in front of him. “I didn’t realise there were rules about this stuff,” he said, though his tone wasn’t defensive. His voice was soft and shy, almost apologetic, and Steve immediately regretted his choice of words.

“No, shit… Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve chuckled, desperately trying to salvage the longest conversation he’d had in days. “It’s just that, well, I can see you obviously really enjoy those,” he quickly motioned to the box of Cheerios on the table, “and, I mean, not to yuck your yum, but they really don’t make for the most nutritious meal. Wouldn’t want the rest of this dorm to come back to the smell of a rotting corpse because you, like, dropped dead of malnutrition or something, you know?” Oh god, what was he even saying?! Nice, Harrington, real nice. Idiot.

Too busy chastising himself for the word vomit he’d just unleashed on this random dude, Steve registered somewhat belatedly that the guy was now laughing, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Steve couldn’t help the expression of pleasant surprise creeping onto his face, as he watched the other man come down from his fit of laugher. He was now beaming at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how he had one of those smiles that light up a person’s entire face.

“Well, it does sound kind of grim when you put it like that, but what can I say?” He plucked a single Cheerio from the bowl and held it up close to his face, as if to examine it. “What you sacrifice on nutrition, you save on money.” Then, with a quick flick of the wrist, he tossed the Cheerio into the air, caught it in his mouth, and flashed Steve a triumphant grin. Steve chuckled, giving him a quick round of applause, to which the guy responded with an exaggerated bow. And if Steve found himself somewhat surprised at how quickly he was warming up to his new roommate, nobody needed to know.

Despite the cheerful nature of the encounter so far, Steve couldn’t help but feel a little guilty after hearing the guy explain his peculiar diet. Here he was with half the grocery store at his disposal, while, across from him, sat a guy forced to live on the same kind of cereal, meal after meal, for the sake of being frugal. He could imagine how difficult it must be to feed yourself on a budget when you don’t have the knowledge or skills to cook in the first place. The sound of his timer jolted Steve out of his thoughts, and he turned back to the stove to check if the spaghetti were cooked. He manoeuvred a single piece of pasta out of the water, blew on it a couple of times, grabbed it with his thumb and index finger, then tipped his head back and lowered it into his open mouth, blissfully unaware of a pair of brown eyes trying their best to look at anything other than Steve. After giving them a few more stirs, he strained the spaghetti in the kitchen sink, then paused for a moment, pretending to deliberate, the guy’s gaze still fixed on him. Before he could overthink it, he turned to face him again.

“Listen, you can totally say no if you want, but I think just made way too much spaghetti for one person. Would you like some?” He heard the guy take a breath, preparing to say something, then remembered. “Oh, and I have this sauce too, by the way,” he quickly added, taking the pot with the sauce off the stove and bringing it towards the other man. Steve tipped the pot slightly, trying to show him what’s inside, nearly causing a bulk of it to spill over the edge. He then realised the contents in the pot were essentially liquid and he probably shouldn’t have been doing that, which prompted him to a curse under his breath and carefully set the pot back on the stove. The guy, clearly amused by the whole display, just giggled and Steve had to take that as a win, even if he ended up rejecting his offer of a warm meal. To his credit, the guy seemed to weigh the idea carefully for a moment. All of a sudden, it looked like something clicked in his brain, and he offered Steve a lopsided smile.

“Well, then, if there really is sauce involved, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.”

It took Steve a little while to register that he was, in fact, not being rejected, but as soon as he did, he couldn't help the way his face lit up, not caring anymore if he came across as overeager. He snapped his fingers and made finger guns at the guy, clearly high on some kind of playful energy the exchange had incited in him.

“Alrighty then,” he said cheerfully, turning to plate their meal, trying his best to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest as he looked down at the result. Two plates.

Steve carried both plates and some cutlery to the table, setting one plate in front of his guest, who followed the motion with fervent fixation. He thought the guy might actually start drooling if he didn’t get to dig into his meal soon. As Steve plopped into the chair across from him, though, he was struck with the realisation that they were about to have their first meal together, yet didn’t even know each other’s names. He cleared his throat and extended his hand towards the stranger.

“Oh, sorry—I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington.”

His companion broke out of his daze, beaming fondly at Steve as he firmly grasped the offered hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Steve Harrington. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

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Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it ☺️ Just fyi, I don't have this whole thing written yet, so I'll be posting it in parts here, on Tumblr, until I do, and then once it's been edited a bit and given a title, I'll probably put it up on ao3 as a longer oneshot. I'll make sure to reblog with the first part every time I post a new one, and I'll also link all the previous parts, so don't worry! It's gonna be so so cute and I'm so excited to share this story with you guys. Check in to see what the boys will get up to next!

[jeannereames]

Hello Mrs Reames! Quick question as someone that is still new to Alexander the Great, I was on TikTok the other day and someone posted a TikTok of an incident in which Alexander the Great supposedly dragged the oracle of Delphi out by her hair because she couldn't give him a prophecy that day, is this true?

Alexander and the Delphic Oracle

First, before answering, let’s do a quick PSA. I’m sure the asker meant to address me in the most polite way they knew how, and I’ve run into this error frequently with undergrads, who (at least in American public schools) are told to address a female teacher as “Ms.” or “Mrs.”

Thus, I offer this correction as gently as possible. But it’s important in an era when titles are being withheld from women as a means of belittlement—then, if a woman dares to object, they’re made fun of or called uppity and “sensitive.”* Again, I’m sure the asker here did not mean anything unkind (or they wouldn’t be asking me something in the first place!). So this is NOT a slap at them. But I’m not a Mrs. (I'm not married, and Reames is my birth name). I’m Dr. Reames or Professor Reames. You can even call me Jeanne (as long as you’re not a student in my class, ha). If you’re a (US) college student and unsure if your instructor has a PhD, “professor” is always safe. 😊

Now, to the question….

Plutarch tells a rather peculiar little story of new King Alexander, on his way home from a meeting of the Corinthian League (in Corinth), stopping at Delphi to ask the oracle a question. I should add, this event occurs right after Plutarch’s description of ATG’s meeting with the Cynic philosopher Diogenes. (E.g., it’s part of a “theme.”)

Now, the Delphic oracle wasn’t open for consults all the time. She only heard them a day or so a month…and that for only some months of the year. He came at the wrong time of year (winter, when Dionysos held the oracle, not his half-brother Apollo). So she told him, “No.” Reportedly, he stormed to her little house in the village of Delphi to manhandle her, intending to drag her to the oracle for his query. She replied, “Son! You’re invincible!” Pleased with that, he let her go.

And Plutarch presents this as if it’s all a-okay.

This is weird. It’s weird that Plutarch, a priest of Delphi from Chaironeia, wasn’t up in arms about this clear affront to an honored oracle (and an old woman). It’s an act of asebia (impiety). But it would be even weirder if Alexander had actually done it. Alexander, the uber-pious.

Plutarch is the ONLY one to tell this story. Anywhere.

Yet there’s a story remarkably like it with different players set during the Third Sacred War when the Phokians had seized the Oracle. It’s this event that set off the war, and which brought ol’ Philip into southern politics and eventually landed him a seat on the Amphictyonic Council as a staunch “Defender of Apollo.” Philomelos was the leader of the Phokians early in the war. Below are both accounts, starting with Diodoros’s (original source likely Kallisthenes, who wrote a history of the war).

With the oracle in Philomelus’ hands, he instructed the Pythia to continue prophesying from the tripod in the traditional way. When she refused, he threatened her and compelled her to mount the tripod. To this display of excessive force, she responded by declaring that he could do whatever he wanted—and he was pleased by this and declared that he had the oracle that suited him. He immediately had the oracle inscribed and set up for all to see, in order to make it clear that he had the god’s permission to do whatever he wanted, and he convened an assembly at which he boosted morale in the ranks by telling them about the prophecy (Diod. 16.27.1-2, Waterfield trans).

And now, wishing to consult the god concerning the expedition against Asia, [Alexander] went to Delphi; and since he chanced to come on one of the inauspicious days, when it is not lawful to deliver oracles, in the first place he sent a summons to the prophetess. And when she refused to perform her office and cited the law in her excuse, he went up himself and tried to drag her to temple, whereupon, as if overcome by his ardour, she said: “Thou art invincible, my son!” On hearing this, Alexander said he desired no further prophecy, but had from her the oracle which he wanted (Plut. Alex. 14.4, Perrin trans.)

With Philomelos, there is no question later in Diodoros that his act was impiety. His eventual death is (partly) attributed to it. Plutarch picks up this event, dusts it off, recasts the “inquirer,” and—moreover—uses it as affirmation of Alexander’s “invincibility.” Remember “The Invincible” was his nickname in Greece in his own day. The Romans called him Magnus (the Great).

In short, Plutarch retooled the story to suit his own purposes.

So no, it never happened. At least, not with Alexander. (And he’d have been horrified, I think, to hear he’d been accused of any such thing.)

Plutarch makes these detail changes when it suits him. I have an article coming out in a year or so where I discuss this tendency and bring the receipts (of quite a few examples)—including one I think a lot of folks here will find VERY interesting. But I’m not the only one saying it about this event in particular. It’s been noted as an “odd” episode before, including by Hamilton, if I recall (who did the commentary on Plutarch). But Lara O’Sullivan really showed where it came from, source-wise, in her “Callisthenes and Alexander the Invincible God,” P. Wheatley and E. Baynham, eds., East and West in the World Empire of Alexander: Essays in Honour of Brian Bosworth. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press (2015), 35–52.

Some may still wonder why Alexander wouldn’t have gone to the oracle?

He didn’t need to. His father already had. And if later historians (such as Diodoros) reinterpreted her pronouncement to be about Philip’s murder, not the fall of Persia, it was a positive reply at the time. Going to Delphi again might risk something less flattering/hopeful. Not to mention, it was the wrong time of the year, and Alexander knew that. He had more important fish to fry. He wasn’t going to hang around, waiting (for months) for an auspicious day.

He was good with the oracle his father had got. After all, he’d been trumpeting for months that “only the name of the king had changed.” The original oracle would do just fine.

------------------------

*A BIG stink was made here in the US by the conservative media over Dr. Jill Biden being “Dr.” The initial "rebuke" stemmed from the fact her degree is “just” a doctor of education. When that faced pushback, however, conservatives on social media began to fuss, well, she wasn’t a MEDICAL doctor, so didn’t “deserve” that title. Which is silly. Doctor is the correct title for a medical doctor, as well as for a host of professional degrees, including a doctor of education, a doctor of theology, a doctor of business, etc. The degree that takes the longest to complete is the PhD, or doctor of philosophy. We’re ALL “doctors.” The problem for them was a professional woman who dared to use her title. Wasn’t she an uppity bitch?

[toasttt11]

pretty blonde

December 9, 2022

Mackenzie messed with her hockey stick as she warmed up before the game. She was playing in Michigan against the U-18 NTDP. Cole has been playing on the U-17 team and she had played him a few weeks ago but he would be filling in for someone so she got to play him today.

Mackenzie laughed to her self seeing Cole waving at her crazily making her wave back at her best friend.

Mackenzie made eye contact with another player who had dirty blonde hair with little curls coming out his helmet.

Mackenzie watched as the boy blinked before he smiled slightly at her. Her eyes widened and she felt her cheeks warming and she grinned slightly before turning around and distracting herself listening to Nick talk.

Mackenzie sneaked a glance and saw the blonde boy glance at her and she quickly turned away again.

Mackenzie took a deep breath and focused on her game. She was playing against a good team but her team has been going on a nine game point streak.

Mackenzie’s team was doing good and leading almost the entire game until the second half of the third period an suddenly the US team had a come back and got three goals in five minutes making the third period end 4-4.

The game went to overtime and neither of the teams could score making the game go into shoot outs.

The first two rounds of shoutouts all four players scored and the third round neither scored.

Macklin was up for the fourth round and let out a breath tightening her hands on her stick before skating forward.

She brought the puck back and forth before she tossed it into the lower left corner and nodded to her self.

She high fived her team as she waited for the other US player to go up next and they watched as the player missed meaning Chicago Steel won.

Mackenzie laughed as her teammates shook her like crazy and a lot pulled her into hugs.

Mackenzie hurried out of the locker room after she put her suit back on and tossed her warm winter jacket on and ran a hand through her short wet hair and headed closer to the other locker room.

Cole hurried out of his locker room wanting to see his best friend until she had to head back to the hotel with her team.

“Hello freshly single Mack.” Cole playfully sung out as he walked over and pulled her into a hug spinning her around.

Mackenzie just laughed shaking her head fondly hugging him back before he set her back down on her feet.

“Hi.” Mackenzie smiled at best friend.

“You doing okay?” Cole’s face changed into a concerned look, Connor and Cole both have stayed in even more contact than usual with Mackenzie the last few days making sure she is okay after the break up.

Mackenzie let out a sigh but nodded, “Honestly i’m okay.” Mackenzie still felt heartbroken over her past relationship and everything that happened with Jackson especially looking back and really noticing how much Jackson controlled her but she felt relieved she’s free from him.

“Good.” Cole nodded, “Did you tell Aiden yet?” Cole asked again knowing Mackenzie has been avoiding telling Aiden anything about her ending the relationship with Jackson because of Aiden’s friendship with Aiden.

“No.” Mackenzie mumbled avoiding Cole’s eyes.

“Mack you have got to tell him.” Cole rested his hand on her shoulder and gave her a look.

“I know.” Mackenzie mumbled her eyes flicking back up to look at Cole.

“He won’t be mad at you.” Cole reassured her again and she just nodded.

Cole looked over and saw Will walking out of the room, “Oh Smitty!” Cole called out making Will look over and his eyes immediately went to Mackenzie standing next to Cole and his eyes stayed on her when he walked over to Cole.

“Smitty this is Mack and Mack this Will.” Cole introduced them and raised an eyebrow at Will starring at her.

“It’s nice to meet the girl Eisy never shuts up about.” Will teased Cole as he smiled at Mackenzie and held out his hand for her to shake.

Mackenzie smiled slightly at the teasing and shook the pretty blonde’s hand and completely ignored the tingling and sparks she felt when her hand touched his.

“Your goal was incredible tonight by the way.” Will kindly told her remembering the awe he felt as he saw how easily she made the goal look. He can admire good hockey and Mackenzie Celebrini plays damn good hockey.

“Thank you.” Mackenzie perked up a little at the compliment and smiled at Will. It always meant a lot hearing praise on something she did in hockey especially coming from another hockey player.

Cole cleared his throat with a smirk making Mackenzie and Will both blink realizing they were still holding each other’s hand having not let go after they shared a handshake.

Mackenzie quickly pulled her hand away smiling awkwardly.


Will chuckled awkwardly and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Smitty!” Will looked up as his name was called and saw Ryan and Gabe waiting for him.

Will nodded at Ryan and Gabe before turning back to Mackenzie, “It was nice to meet you Celebrini.” Will smiled brightly at her and gave her a soft wave.

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow at him saying her last name as Cole only introduced her as Mack, “Nice to meet you Smith.” Mackenzie grinned mischievously at Will’s surprised face before he just smiled and shook his head before walking away.

“What?” Mackenzie asked confused as she looked at Cole seeing his smirk.

“Nothing.” Cole just shook his head having a feeling he knew what would be happening in the future but was going to keep it to himself for now.

Cole pulled her into a hug, “Tell Aiden okay.” Cole whispered and she nodded lightly, “I’ll see you soon Mack.”

Cole pulled back and they shared a smile with each other before they walked away from one another.