#but you know - trial and error as it goes

[royaltea000]

Do ya have any tips on character design and fashion? Like how to make them stand out, or fit with a style, etc etc

Mmm yeah I guess… they’re kinda basic tho lol ^^”

When it comes to fashion I think it helps if you know a specific named style that you’re going for like lolita or cyberpunk, but if you’re unsure then you should think about the setting the character will be in, what’s their job/purpose, etc and go from there. Then look up references for said style (I personally like to use Pinterest).

And the great thing about character design is that none of it has to be realistic so don’t be hesitant to accessorize and put them in more wacky, trendy hairstyles and clothing. Usually my main goal when designing character outfits is to convey hints about the character’s personality or job through them so I rely a lot on symbols or personal affects.

Another thing I do is use shape language. Like say for example if the character is meant to be really strong or prickly I usually make their silhouette more bulky on top and include a lot of triangular shapes in their designs to convey that. As for color - if you’re a beginner you can always use the tried and true method of Pokémon color typing lmao and once you’ve got the grasp of that you can play around with it! :) Oh and don’t forget posing is also important when displaying your character!! I’m not saying that you have to do dynamic complicated poses every time but focus more on their posture like open body language vs tense shoulders.

But that’s how I do it I hope this helps you out! Here’s a breakdown of my recent oc work as example :D

[cherryredstars]

Ok so i have this fic idea where reader and mig are from different universes and reader is a scientist and one time mig and her get drunk and start talking about the multiverse and suddenly they are on the topic of what would happen if people from different universes had a baby together. (You see where i am going with this...) they end up drunkenly fucking and saying it's for "research" because they can't admit to themselves that they are in love. If this request is too complicated feel free to ignore. Thank you in advance cherry!! I hope u have a marvelous new year!! 💕

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Oral Sex, Mentions of Animal Testing (for science), Breeding Kink

A/N: Thank you, love! I hope you're well!!!

You know there is a process.

And you know this isn't it.

There are supposed to be hypotheses and written out procedures. Dependent and independent variables, a control group. Fucking hell, you should be experimenting on fucking mice. You should be limiting the margins of error, should be going with the most direct, straightforward pursuit for results.

And yet...

You don't stop Miguel when he pushes you back onto the couch. You don't pause or even really think when he's pushing your pants down your legs, placing kisses along the skin as he goes. You lift your hips to aid him when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, shivering when his warm breath fans over your exposed sex. If this experiment was in any sense proper, you would get straight into it. Cut out all the unneeded steps. But you can't help but pull his head closer to your aching core, craving the way his warm tongue laps at you. If you weren't already drunk, you would be drunk on this feeling alone.

But god, nothing has even been more satisfying than doing the work. You know the data would be void in a real experiment. The trials bleeding into each other hardly make for adequate data, but the way you beg him for more is involuntary. It feels too good, to have him desperately thrusting into you. It makes your mind numb, and everything you know about your life's passion is erased. The only thing that fills your head is the words Miguel grunts into you ears, promises of fucking a baby into you. Vows to make you bloated with load after load of his cum. That all it'll take is one of his orgasms to make it happen.

You guess that is a hypothesis in itself: Miguel O'Hara can get you pregnant with just one orgasm.

Too bad he's too desperate to find out if that hypothesis is correct. Because he doesn't stop at one. No, he keeps going. One after the other with no breaks in-between. But you guess that's to be expected, he is a man of science himself. A passionate one at that.

He's almost crazed in the way he overstimulates himself. Sweat beading in his hairline as he grunts down at you, watching the way he creamy cock slides in and out of your abused pussy. You've lost count of how many times you've come alone, but you know based on the way your body shivers and jolts that it's far more than you've ever had before. It's almost painful now, the way your next orgasm rips through you and shatters your soul again. You let out strangled breaths as you fight through the aftershocks and the continued pleasure of Miguel's cock slamming against your cervix. You swear you black out before he finally stops, your eyes and mind groggy as he pulls your hips flush against his as he spills into you.

You can feel him trying to push deeper into you as he pants ruggedly, his cock twitching against your walls until he's milked dry. Even when he's done filling you, he stays connected. He collapses onto you, breathing in the linger smell of sweat and sex on your skin.

"Got to make sure it takes."

Well, does the process really matter if you get the desired result anyway?

Part 2 Part 3

[gremlingottoosilly]

I Adore the One-shot of Maid!reader x könig , total peak , How will könig react to the reader accepting his actions bc she needs him to pay the bills?

Konig is glad to be a provider. Ready to get home only to be greeted with the sight of your beautiful ass on display for him. You bend over, crouching to get some stains from the carpet. Fucking beautiful, he thinks. It was worth weeks in that fucking dessert, sweating off his boots so he could get a paycheck so fat, he closed the deal on the house. Konig knows how to provide - knows that nice girls require nice houses, one car per household at the minimum. They need regular flowers and a big allowance for their pins, needles, and cute dresses. He isn't sure exactly what you want, but he is willing to try. Trial and error. Getting hit on the head with a plate and atoning for his sins with his tongue between your legs. He is so, so sorry - didn't want to anger you, his sweet darling, he just needed to see where he did wrong (everywhere). He doesn't like the way you still act, as if it's a job. Giving him three kisses per day, everything was so strict and rehearsed. He wants a spontaneous blowjob in bed and some cheek kisses before he goes to his monthly getaway of killing people. He wants to hold you during the night and feel your chilly body get closer to him, wrapping your cold legs around his and searching for his natural heat. He wants to feel you tug at his blanket during the night and ultimately give in to your whims, ignoring that little whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him that he can snap your pretty neck in one swift movement. You're still playing maid - or a housewife, as something more appropriate. He brings you a maid costume, and you agree to wear it - a short skirt flows around your legs, revealing too much. You'd ask for a new phone and a fresh set of bed sheets. Better then, a shopping spree - all of the house appliances, cute little napkins, and hand-painted mugs. You'd push your lips all over his scarred face after this, your tongue mapping the upper layer of skin tissue. He pays your bills and you accept the comfort he provides. Never give him things that he truly craves - not unless he is willing to stop behaving like a rabid dog. Sometimes, you scratch behind his ear after you make evening tea, and he leans into your touch. Overgrown puppy, bullied into being a killer. You don't mind, as long as he doesn't drop blood all over the new carpet. And if he does, you'd just make sure he will buy a new one, so he could fuck you on it.

[angelicgirlmj]

simple skincare routine (+ product recommendations based of skin types)

hi angels! skincare has been a big passion of mine since i was around twelve and began to develop some hormonal skincare issues. these really made me insecure and i still struggle with my skin. but being consistent and developing my routine, working out my skin type, eating with my skin as a focus and trial and error has got me to a place where im much much happier with my skin - and id love to share some tips and products with you!! remember your skin is exposed to so much and such a delicate part of your body, treat it with the love and respect it deserves. ˚₊‧��ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

firstly: figuring out your skin type

im not exaggerating when i say the basis of a good skincare routine is knowing your skin type. it makes it easier to buy products, work out what your skin needs and how to achieve the look you want.

dermatologists agree that there are four skin types:

oily (skin produces more oils and sebum).

dry (produces less oils and sebum).

normal (produces a normal amount of oils and sebum).

combination (areas of skin which are dry and areas that are sebum heavy/oily).

so…

how do you work out your skin type?

well there are two easy at home methods!

watch and wait (requires cleanser): wash your face with a gentle cleanser and pat dry. wait for half an hour or so and observe your skin. shiny all over = oily. tight and perhaps flaky = dry. shine in t zone = likely combination. hydrated and comfortable but not too oily = normal.

blotting sheet method (requires blotting sheets and cleanser): wash face with gentle cleanser, pat dry and waist for half an hour or so. press blotting sheets to chin, cheeks, forehead etc and examine the oil left on the sheets. lots of oil = oily. almost no oil/no oil = dry. oil mostly in t zone = combination. minimal all over face = normal.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

secondly: building a routine

now youve worked out what skin type you have it’s time to build a routine! i personally have combination skin that verges more on the dry side.

my am and pm skincare routines look like this…

am: cleanser, ice face, oil face and do gentle gua sha routine, moisturiser and spf. applying facial sanitising spray regularly throughout the day.

pm: double cleanse, ice face (only if feeling puffy/sore), moisturiser, 1 - 2 spot treatments and sanitise face.

am products:

cerave hydrating cleanser.

corsx moisturiser (great for dry and spot prone skin, little goes along way).

la roche posay spf 50+.

jojoba face oil.

vital baby face spray.

pm products:

la roche posay effclar duo.

avene hydrance aqua cream.

two over the counter spot treatments.

you may need to cleanse your face more/less, use less moisturiser etc. developing your skin care routine is through trial and error, just be observant of your skin and take notes on any effects or changes a product seems to have.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

thirdly: product recommendations

here’s a list of some product recommendations! some i have personally tried (they will be starred), others are popular ones based of your skin type loved by many.

cleansers

dry: cerave hydrating cleanser ⟡

oily: la roche posay effclar duo cleanser ⟡

combination: neutrogena skin balancing purifying gel cleanser

normal: paulas choice perfectly balanced foaming cleanser.

toner

dry: laneige cream skin toner

oily: body shop tea tree toner ⟡

combination: innisfree green tea toner

normal: la roche posay toner

moisturisers

dry: corsx moisturiser ⟡

oily: glow watermelon pink juice moisturiser

combination: byoma moisturising gel cream

normal: la roche posay cicaplast baume B5+ ⟡

spf

la roche posay spf 50+

black girl sunscreen

supergoop unseen sunscreen

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

thank you for reading angels! feel free to give any skincare product recommendations or reviews. im planning on doing an in-depth personal skincare routine post soon. hopefully you enjoyed!!

love, m.

[chariaki]

In sickness and in health, in loss and in success, in joy and in despair, in trials and in errors.

Husband!Nanami x reader

Exploring what love means to your husband Kento Nanami.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Husband!Kento Nanami who loves you because you're you and loves you even when you're you.

The you when you're stressed, unmotivated, overwhelmed and lazy. The beautiful and carefree you. The short tempered you. The wonder-filled you. The you that lives in his heart and mind.

Husband!Kento Nanami who's still whole heartedly smitten by you even when you kick him in your sleep, steal his bread, yell at him when you're mad and call him baby girl petnames.

Kento Nanami doesn't believe in an instant compatability, nor love at first sight, and certainly not the classic "I found a whole new universe the second I saw you." nonsense.

He believes that to love someone is to truly know them. As the saying goes, "to be loved is to be known, " Husband!Kento Nanami knew he loved you when he saw you wholly as you really were. From your smile to the way your voice reaches an octave higher when your shy, to the way dress on the weekends when you rot in bed, the way your laughter reverberates warmth to his heart, the way you tap your feet when your nervous and the way your eyes sharpen when your mad. He has loved you even when he saw the sides of you that you deemed "unpleasant" yourself.

Husband!Kento Nanami who isn't the same person as you, but always willingly makes adjustments and improvements for you and your relationship, because he wants to make him and you work. Because he truly respects and loves you.

Husband!Kento Nanami who fears you were too good for him.

Husband!Kento Nanami who cried in your arms when you told him you thought the same about him and confessed your love for him.

Husband!Kento Nanami who doesn't understand how someone can instantly "love" someone at first sight just because they're visually appealing. He believes that the term and the feeling of love itself shouldn't be reduced to a mere and momentarily attraction.

Husband!Kento Nanami who firmly stands with the belief that love is a commitment. He wholly commits himself, his time, his body, his heart, his mind, his everything to you. From the simplest ways of walking a few extra meters to buy your favorite food late at night, thinking and worrying about you everytime even when you aren't sad, using his hands to soothe your back and squeeze your shoulders when you look stressed.

Husband!Kento Nanami who firmly stands with the belief that love is a promise. He promises to be with you in sickness and in health, in loss and in success, in joy and in despair, in trials and in errors. That was part of your wedding vows and exactly why he kneeled down to you. Because he knew he could fulfill that promise and that no one else can compete with the immense love and adoration that he perpetuallly holds for you and only you.

Husband!Kento Nanami who firmly stands with the belief that love is an understanding. Regardless of contrasting differences in preferences, opinions, styles, challenges and lifestyle, Nanami will always make the effort to understand you, because he knows you will for him, too. Love doesn't always come naturally or instantaneously. It's also learning to adjust and adapt a new life together with your person. And for Nanami, you're his person.

Husband!Kento Nanami who knows love is present and is real because of his relationship with you. Because you exist.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Dating After A Toxic Relationship

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had 😊 Remember, requests are open! Be sure to read my rules and please respect that I'm only interested in writing for these characters. Thank you! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher is very vocal. He knows you jump and scare easily, so he always makes a point to say where or if he's going to touch you, if he's upset and why (so that you don't worry you're the reason), when he'll be back, etc. This takes a lot of trial and error between the two of you. Butcher is an angry, violent person. You knew this going into the relationship. There's always a worry it could turn on you, and that's what he fears most: that you'd ever be afraid of him. He reassures you constantly he would never, ever hurt you. He knows all about what your ex did. You wanted to be up front and honest, knowing some of your behaviors might seem strange or out of place. The last thing he ever wants to do is emulate your ex and though it takes a lot of rewiring and assessment of his actions, he's trying to be better for you so that he doesn't lose you.

Hughie hates what your ex has done. Bit by bit, you give him the overview of your relationship, what they were like, and how they treated you. Sometimes you jump or flinch and he's reminded all over again that, despite what he does, there will always be this underlying fear and distrust. It took a long time to date him let alone tell him everything. He's patient and gentle and makes sure you're okay with every step you take further into the relationship. He takes every relationship show regardless of past history. When you see your ex again you have to pull Hughie away, not wanting him to start anything. He can't help it. He looks at them and he sees red. He's filled with disgust and hatred. Hughies always been on the timid side, but the thought of someone hurting you like that boils his blood.

Annie never wants you to feel like you have to hide that kind of thing from her. She knows all about power hungry people who take advantage of others. Still, she can't believe it. You're kind and funny and sweet and you always have everyone's best interest at heart. You know what it's like to get hurt, you wouldn't dare hurt someone else. She knows you don't want any trouble with them, you just want to move on, but she can't help but light up when she sees them. Secretly she goes to them and makes it known if they so much as look at you, even think about you, they're done. She's always asking if what you're doing is okay and wants to be as open as possible about boundaries. You're grateful she likes innocent touching, mostly hand holding, and when you're having a hard time you know she'll grab your hand and squeeze it, reminding you she's always here for you.

M.M knows all about your ex. He was the one to help you get out of that relationship in the first place. Since then you've become really close, so close he's now your boyfriend. After your ex shows up at your work one day, Marvin decides to take things into his own hands. The Boys make a special appearance at their apartment where they make it known they are never to go near you ever again. You have a lot of fears about trusting someone again, especially in a relationship, but M.M. is patient. He never wants you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to or aren't ready for. He's more than okay with taking things slow. He actually prefers it that way. He's extremely protective over you and, unfortunately, are his biggest weakness. If Homelander ever found out about you, M.M. would be done for.

Frenchie met your ex a few times before you broke things off. The way they spoke to you, wanted to control you, all the sings were there. He feels awful that he didn't see it sooner, but you could never blame him. You're just glad you got away from them. Frenchie is attentive and devoted and males sure you're comfortable with every step in your relationship. He offers, jokingly though not jokingly, to have your ex killed when they start sending calls and texts and emails. You assure him it's okay, you'll handle it. He knows you're more than capable, but he's always got a back up plan ready just in case they want to try anything more. He's extremely patient when you decide to tell him. He knows there's more to the story than what you're sharing, but he doesn't push it. He's grateful you shared anything at all. It's a big step and means a lot that you'd trust him.

Kimiko is learning to trust just like you are. You've both been through a lot, but you find a great solace in one another. Kimiko isn't sure who this random person is that shows up looking for you, only that the rest of The Boys are suddenly cagey, angry, and very protective. They're grateful you're not there. When she asks about them, you finally tell her. You dated a while ago and it wasn't a safe relationship. You thought you could get away from them, but they seek you out. They like to know they're in control. She feels awful. You're genuine and smart and sweet. Those terrible things that happened to you only made you softer and, unfortunately, more prone to anxiety and distrust. She leaves it up to you to take the next steps in your relationship. You appreciate more than you could ever put into words. You love her, but you need to take things slow.

Bonus! Homelander killed them a long time ago. The moment you showed up in his life, he knew there was someone who'd hurt you. It takes a long time to tell anyone, let alone him. One day the phone calls and texts and emails just stop. They stop showing up at Vought looking for you. You think you've finally scared them off or perhaps they got bored, but it was actually your new boyfriend. Normally he'd like to boast all about how he tortured them, h9w easy it was to kill them, how stupid they looked when he pulled out all their teeth, but he knows you wouldn't like that, so he keeps it to himself. He knows no one will miss them. You certainly don't. You're sleeping better now and getting more comfortable in your relationship without the constant threat of them showing up or following you. Homelander rests easy knowing they can never hurt you again. He lacks a lot of self-awareness in this department.

[misspygmypie]

What's That Brush For?

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes Summary: Lando is fascinated by your morning makeup routine :) Words: 765

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with fascination as you meticulously applied your makeup. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow that made the whole process feel even more intimate. The Brit had been standing there for a good five minutes, observing you while you were pulling your hair into a high ponytail, without saying a single word. 

As you had moved on to doing your makeup for the day he just kept watching, mesmerized, as you skillfully blended foundation and brushed on eyeshadow with precise movements.

“Wow,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice tinged with awe. “I never realized how much goes into this. What’s that brush for?”

You watched as he picked up the little tool and looked at it wide-eyed, bopping its soft bristles with his index finger before bringing it up to his eyes and inspecting it closely.

You glanced up to your boyfriend. “This is a blending brush. It helps smooth out the eyeshadow so there are no harsh lines in between the colors.”

Lando nodded, clearly enthralled by the whole situation. “Can I try? I mean, I probably won’t get it right, but it looks like fun.”

You smiled at him, amused by his enthusiasm. “Sure, give it a go. Just be gentle and please don’t poke my eye out, I kind of still need it.”

“Shut up, you muppet, as if I was that clumsy…” he gave you a sour look and you chuckled, remembering some moments he definitely had been that clumsy.

As he carefully tried his hand at blending the different powders on your eyelid he asked, “Does it always take this long? I feel like I’m messing it up.”

“Practice makes perfect,” you reassured him, watching as his concentration intensified, his tongue now poking out of his mouth making him way more adorable than should be allowed. “It takes time to get the hang of it. And don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” you ensured him after a quick glance into the mirror.

He looked at the result and grinned, a mixture of pride and humor in his expression. “This is really cool. I had no idea it was such an art form. How did you learn all this?”

You laughed softly, appreciating his genuine interest which is something you never would have expected. But then again, this was Lando and he always was full of surprises. “A lot of trial and error, plus some tutorials online. It’s like anything else, practice and patience.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I should start learning more. Who knows, I might end up being a makeup artist on the side.”

You chuckled at the boy next to you. “You never know. It could be a fun skill to have. But don’t quit your day job just yet.”

He grinned, returning to his spot by the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the frame. “Fair enough. But if you ever need an assistant, I’m your guy,” Lando announced proudly, pointing at himself with his two thumbs.

“Thanks, Lan. I might just take you up on that offer someday. You know,” you said, applying a bit of highlighter with a deft hand, “makeup can be a lot like racing in a way. It’s all about precision, timing, and a bit of creativity.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? I never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah,” you explained, smiling as you looked at him. “Just like in racing, you need to have good technique and an eye for detail. And there’s always room to experiment and improve.”

He nodded thoughtfully, clearly processing the comparison. “I guess it makes sense. And I suppose the same principles apply, practice makes perfect.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “And it’s all about having fun with it, too.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Well, I definitely had fun. Thanks for letting me try it out. Maybe next time we can swap skills, I'll give you a few racing tips if you show me more about makeup.”

“Deal,” you said, laughing. “Looking forward to it. But how about a cup of coffee first?”

“That can be arranged,” Lando smiled and gave you a quick kiss before he headed out into the direction of the kitchen. 

As the door clicked shut behind him, you tidied up the bathroom counter, feeling a small bit of excitement about what had just happened. It was one of those small moments that made you appreciate Lando just that much more and perhaps you soon would learn something new about his world too!

[pellucid-constellations]

Last updated October 1st, 2024

Drabble masterlist here <3

⁂ Azriel ⁂

→ Multi-Part Series/Oneshots

∙ Of Oblivious Minds (Part I)

You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Part II, Part III, Part IV

∙ If It All Fell (Series Masterlist)

If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

∙ Compliments to the Line Cook

Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Favoritism Azriel always seems to be working. Well, not always. Sometimes he's on the phone outside the restaurant with a massive smile on his face. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Lessons in Care Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Colds and Retold Confessions Azriel would never be one to not take care of his girl when she's sick. That doesn't mean he won't make her blush. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Trial and Error (Part I)

Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V -> Part V Bonus, Part VI

∙ If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part II

→ Standalone Oneshots

∙ Only in Dreams

In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

∙ Reversal

When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

∙ Set in Stone

The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

∙All Over Again

You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

∙ By the Book

Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

∙ To Feel At Home

Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

∙ A Promise

As war inches closer on the horizon, Azriel reminds you of a promise you made to him—one you aren't sure you can keep.

⁂ Cassian ⁂

∙ R&R

Cassian was tired and you were taking forever to get your ass back home.

∙ The Construct of Loyalty

After months of "disobedience," your father calls upon Cassian to be your personal guard. That leaves Cassian, a soldier in the Night Court army, your childhood friend, and a man deeply in love with you, to protect you from all fronts—including the arranged marriage you were born into.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[bubblespalace]

Headcannon: If The Sakamaki Brothers actually fell in love with you.

^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^ Includes: Shu, Reiji, Ayato, Kanato, Laito, Subaru, and all of them together (Because I love all of them and can't choose). ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^

Shu Sakamaki 💛:

∆💛: Like all the brothers, he would hate he fall for someone who wasn't a vampire. He would try to deter himself from you, but he would fail.

∆💛 Converse-shoe would still be super lazy, but he would perk up a bit if you walked in.

∆💛 Would mock you even more. Calling you names and roasting you a lot, he would love your reaction.

∆💛 He would show off his violin skills and possibly play for you. He would try to make himself seem impressive.

∆💛 Shu would have a slight fear Reiji might attempt to take you from him since his younger brother has always wanted what he had. So he would be possessive around Reiji especially.

∆💛 He would sneak into your room and snake himself underneath you, so you were laying on top of him.

🎧You jolted up in shock when you realized the blonde vampire was underneath you. "Ahh! Shu-kun! What are you doing in here?!"

Shu smirked, his eyes still closed, and pulled you back down on top of him with one arm. "Shh... be quiet... you like this anyway... you lewd woman."🎧

Reiji Sakamaki 💙:

∆💙 Reiji would first try to tell himself it wasn't a crush, he would stay away from you. Whenever you visit his lab or study, he would turn you away. Until he came to terms he was in love with you.

∆💙 He would start giving you tasks, which you somehow completed perfectly, exactly the way he wanted. He would start being softer with you and less strict.

∆💙 He would take time to teach you about things, and he would be more patient with your trial and error. He finds it very admiring that you won't give up so easily when you don't get the information.

∆💙 You would become almost like his assistant, helping him with notes, and labeling formulas and mixtures.

∆💙 Rei-Rei would keep you away from Shu as much as possible, in fear that you would fall for him instead.

∆💙 Even when you make a mistake, he remains calm and very early goes off on you. It surprises you, since with anyone else he scolds until they start crying.

🧪The glass hit the ground with a shatter, you froze in fear. "Oh god, Reiji-kun... I'm so sorry, please don't be ma-"

"It's no problem." He said almost calmly. "Just clean it up. We shall get back to what we were doing after."🧪

Ayato Sakamaki ❤:

∆❤: This man would know right away he was falling for you, but he would be meaner to you to hide it.

∆❤: Eventually, he would try to impress you more. He would still be super mean, but he would do everything he could to make you notice him.

∆❤: He would invite you to his basketball games a lot, and he would hang out with you afterward. Which made the other girls give you an evil eye.

∆❤: However, he wouldn't lay up on you. Christmas Eve is the type to keep treatment the same. He'd still call you out by your breast-size, and drink your blood. (All the brothers might still drink your blood, but eh)

∆❤: Keeps you away from his brothers, particularly Kanato and Laito because he knows they can be the most dangerous. Only he's allowed to hurt you.

∆❤: If you were to ever do something nice for him without him having to ask, he would be stunned. You might even catch him blushing a bit.

🏀You walked up to Ayato with a kind smile on your face. "Hey, I made you some Takoyaki."

He paused for a good moment, almost in happy disbelief, before he regained his normal stature. "Good, Ore-sama was getting hungry anyway."🏀

Kanato Sakamaki: 💜

∆💜: He would be angry you made him fall for you, but after a few hours of angry screaming in his room, he calmed down and talked to Teddy about it.

∆💜: He would get you gifts, like dresses, babydoll shoes, and hair accessories. You would become his only, non-wax doll.

∆💜: In fact, Kana-na would never feel the want to turn you into a wax doll. You aren't like his past victims, he wants to watch you squirm forever.

∆💜: You would get princess treatment, except when he's angry. He would yell and scream at you, but he would very rarely hurt you when mad. He would hurt you more when he's happy, and he would praise you after for being so strong about it.

∆💜: He wouldn't just keep you away from his brothers, that's for sure, this man would keep you away from absolutely everyone. If someone so much as looked at you, he would slit their throat. You're his after all.

∆💜: The amount of tea parties you had in his room would be uncountable. Sometimes you talked, other times it was just comfortable silence.

🧸Kanato smiled at you, not the creepy off-kilter smile that made you feel hunted, but an actual, genuine smile. "What is it?" You asked sweetly.

Kanato kept staring at you. "It's nothing, my doll. Don't worry about it. You don't ever have to worry about anything."🧸

Laito Sakamaki 💚:

∆💚: He would have no idea what was happening to him. You weren't like the other girls he had been with, and it confused him. His heart rate quickened around you, heat rushed to his normally cold cheeks and he felt almost... nervous.

∆💚: Lai-Lai would probably end up asking Reiji what you were doing to him. Reiji would deadpan and explain.

∆💚: Laito was first in denial, because that's not what he thought love was, but Reiji carefully told him everything. After that, Laito made it his mission to get you to fall for him.

∆💚: He became the most romantic man on earth. Laito gifted you roses, chocolates, and anything else he could think of that you loved. Yet he was still shy around you sometimes and you caught him stuttering over his words a few times.

∆💚: Almost all sexual thoughts left his mind, (He still had a few, come on, this is Laito) all he was focused on was wooing you, and it stayed this way for a very long time.

∆💚: You would be very surprised by this change in him, and he would try to convince you nothing changed.

🎩Laito had snuck up behind you and put his arms over your shoulders. In his hands, was a beautifully arranged bouquet of roses. "Hi Bitch-chan." He purred with his Cheshire cat smile.

You giggled and took the bouquet from him, admiring the flowers. "What has gotten into you lately? What have you done with Laito, stranger?"🎩

Subaru Sakamaki 🤍:

∆🤍: He would break everything in his room in terror. He didn't want to fall in love, especially not with you. Subaru couldn't stand the thought of hurting you severely.

∆🤍: Toyota would avoid you like the plague, hoping he would fall out of love with you. Somehow you always found your way into his mind again...

∆🤍: He was crazy over you, he started admiring you from a distance, watching you as you did your homework in the living room. He was scared he would hurt you if he actually approached you. Soon, you noticed and confronted him.

∆🤍: After that, he spoke to you a little more often, but still kept his distance. Subaru also turned up his tsundere level from 100, to 10,000.

∆🤍: Would be secretly leaving white roses in your locker, and also doing little things to make you smile without you knowing it was him.

∆🤍: Tsunbaru might never confess to you, you might be the one to make the first move. He would be way too nervous to talk to you.

🗡Carefully you glanced at Subaru, making sure there was nothing he could mistake for anger or upset in your voice. "Subaru, did you leave this-"

His red eyes flashed to you in what you thought was disgust. "W-why would I leave you a rose?! Leave me alone, foolish mortal!"🗡

The Sakamaki's 💛💙❤💜💚🤍:

∆💛💙❤💜💚🤍: If they all fell for you, I wish you luck my friend. They will be competitive AF.

∆💛💙❤💜💚🤍: Expect their normal behaviors to either become more intense, or softer. It could go either way.

∆💛💙❤💜💚🤍: Reiji and Shu might try to battle it out for you since they will be each other's biggest threats. Ayato and Subaru might just fight too, since they don't get along well.

∆💛💙❤💜💚🤍: Kanato would end up dragging you into his doll room in the middle of the night. I can see him trying to brand you, burning his name onto your skin.

∆💛💙❤💜💚🤍: Laito would be relentless and would never leave you alone. You would have to fend him off 25 hours a day.

∆💛💙❤💜💚🤍: They all might just start fighting like little children, pulling you toward them like a rope in tug-a-war.

🎧🧪🏀🧸🎩🗡"Boys! I'm not a rag doll! Stop or you're gonna break my arms!" You shouted over Kanato's hysterical screams and Reiji and Shu's accusations toward each other.

Laito yanked you away, which released you from Reiji's and Shu's harsh grip on your wrists. "She's right, Bitch-Chan will choose me anyways, so why is it we must make a big fuss over this?"

"God, will you stop being such a pervert for one moment?!" Subaru yelled, looking as though he was about to punch something.

Sadly, your wrists only got that break before Reiji grasped onto the wrist Shu was holding onto and bit down into the sensitive flesh, making eye contact with him as his fangs made contact. "You fucking bastard," Shu growled and bit into the wrist Reiji had grasped before, possessively biting down hard enough for it to leave a mark that would last a long time. Soon, you had all the boys' fangs buried in your skin, gnawing on you like you were prey.

"I'm the best, right dolly?"

"Tch, don't be stupid, Y/N."

"You're smart, Y/N. You'll choose me."

"You lewd woman, choose the best choice."

"Ore-sama, obviously."

"Or your Laito-kun, Bitch-Chan."🎧🧪🏀🧸🎩🗡

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the fall

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.” He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

Summary: surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, mentions of wounds

Words: 9.1k

Before you swing in: this is it !!! last official chapter of season 2 :) this chapter is pure fluff yall. just 9k words of utter disgusting bug n steve, so i hope it makes up for how long it took for them to get to this point lmao. enjoy !

-

True to your promise with Jonathan, nothing necessarily changes between the two of you; things just shift. You stop being so tactile with him out of respect for Nancy, now only reaching for his hand for comfort rather than to have him so near. It takes some trial and error, but eventually the two of you manage to strike up a good balance.

You still spend most of your days either together at his house or yours. Only now, Nancy accompanies you, and it’s lovely.

“Dustin told me that Steve practically drooled over you last night before the Snowball.” Jonathan teases you, hunched over his kitchen table scribbling a half-assed essay that’s already a day late.

Nancy giggles as you throw your pencil at the boy. “That did not happen, mind your own business.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. He kept staring at you today during lunch.” Nancy slides over her paper and taps her pencil on a particular problem she’s stuck on. She’s still getting used to talking about this with you, but she pushes aside her unease and tries anyway. “Do you know the answer for number five?”

Her words cause you to blush, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Steve last night. You told him you’d wait for him, and he looked at you as if you’d promised him the world and more. Then, today at lunch, Steve had boldly found you sitting with Nancy and Jonathan outside and joined.

It was a welcome change, and he sat so close to you that your thighs pressed together underneath the picnic bench you’d been eating at.

“He wasn’t staring at me,” you mumble, embarrassed and still feeling his weight pressed against you, before sliding your paper over to Nancy. “And I got Henry Ford.”

Frowning, Nancy erases her answer. “That makes no sense.”

“My answer or Steve not staring at me?”

“Both.” Nancy and Jonathan say at the same time.

You throw another pencil at Jonathan. “I wasn’t talking to you, write your late essay.”

He ducks, “Would you stop?”

“Not unless you stop speaking.”

“This is my house, bug–”

“And I can call your mom right now and she’d let me stay.” You cross your arms at Jonathan, knowing you’ve already won the argument. “Any more complaints?”

Jonathan goes back to writing his essay, grumbling under his breath about how you can’t keep pulling the mom card, and you giggle at his anger alongside Nancy. He’s the one who wanted the two of you to get along, he should’ve known that you and Nancy would just make his life miserable.

The three of you go back to working quietly at the table, you and Nancy occasionally asking each other for help on certain questions, while Jonathan grows more and more frustrated by his essay. After he’s angrily scribbled out his fifth line, Nancy snatches the paper from him and points towards the back door.

“Out,” she tells him.

Jonathan blinks. “What?”

“Go outside, take a small walk, and calm down. You’re frustrated and won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.”

They stare at each other, Nancy silently daring him to argue with her, and you watch in amusement. She has him wrapped around her finger, and after only a few seconds, Jonathan sighs and gets up from the kitchen table. “I’m doing this because I want to, alright?”

You snort. “Sure, buddy.”

He gives you the finger, presses a kiss to Nancy’s forehead, and then grabs a coat to go outside.

Once he’s gone, Nancy turns to you and sets down her pencil. “So, how long are you planning on pretending that Steve doesn’t like you?”

You whip your head up, dropping your pencil in the process, startled by her forward question. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I…” Though you’ve slowly gotten used to Nancy being with Jonathan, it still feels too soon to talk to her about Steve, even if she’s given you her blessing. It feels too raw, too inappropriate, to discuss it with her. “I don’t think we should talk about this–”

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s obvious he at least feels something for you, and if anyone deserves Steve, it’s you.” Nancy gently takes your hand, her voice sincere. “He came outside for lunch looking for you today, he drove you to the Snowball, he’s been visiting you at work ever since you smiled at him last year.”

You look away from her. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not…” Nancy swallows, clears her throat, and looks away as well. It still has taken her time to adjust to the shift between the four of you, to finally understand that it’s now okay to talk about these things with one another. “It’s not because of me, right?”

A beat of silence passes, and when you don’t say anything, Nancy sighs. “Shit.”

“He’s still healing, Nance.” You admit, feeling bad for bringing this upon her. You don’t want her to feel responsible for any of it, it’s not her fault that the boys you’ve loved have loved her first. The wound of it has healed now, though the scar that it has left will never fade.

You both know this, neither one of you want to admit it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She shakes her head, the familiar guilt of somehow always the one hurting you clawing at her. “I wish things had been different between me and him.”

You shrug, you don’t see any reason to blame her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t wish things had been different between the two of you,” you admit, knowing how bizarre it may sound. When Nancy raises her eyebrows, you’re quick to explain. “What I mean is, if Steve had never been with you, who knows who he’d be now? Or if Jonathan had never been my best friend, would you still have found each other?”

Nancy bites her lip, still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Y/N…”

“I think, truthfully, that we all unwound with who we were supposed to.” You’re not sure how to explain this, to express your unusual way of viewing such complex situations. “Without our histories, without being so intertwined with one another, I don’t think we ever would’ve unwound how we were supposed to. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Nancy nods, although hesitant. “And Steve is still… Unwinding from me?”

You cringe, knowing how silly it all sounds. “I know it sounds dumb, but he is, and while I’m not saying he doesn’t like me… I told him to take his time.”

“You’d really wait for him?”

“I would.”

Nancy sighs and goes back to her assignment, continuously amazed by your selflessness. “You’re too good.”

You shrug again, now used to being told this by others. It doesn’t bother you like it used to, you’ve come to view your kindness as something wholly yours and no one else’s to understand. It took so much violence to become so kind, and you will never, ever apologize for it now. “It adds to my charm.”

Jonathan walks back in right as Nancy bursts into loud laughter, you do as well, the remaining tension between you and her now gone. He sees the way she clutches her stomach and how you have to grab onto the table so you don’t fall over as you laugh. “Did I miss something?”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “No, bee. Sit down and do your work.”

“Yeah,” Nancy giggles again, feeling breathless. “What Y/N said.”

“You two are the worst.” Jonathan slumps in his seat and goes back to his essay.

“You love us,” you tease, knowing that he hasn’t told Nancy this yet.

He smiles shyly and avoids Nancy’s eye. “Yeah, I do.”

They both blush and there’s a childish energy to them, shy and soft and sweet. You watch them with a warm smile, endlessly happy for them both; they’re sweet to watch, still shy around one another.

As you watch Jonathan and Nancy giggle softly as they help each other with their assignments, looking over at you for help as well, you know that junior year is finally starting to look up.

–

Steve continues to join you, Jonathan, and Nancy for lunch. He makes himself a permanent seat next to you, never once straying far from your side, and eventually he even ends up back in the library with the three of you.

It’s reminiscent of your sophomore year, back when you’d just defeated the Demogorgon and Nancy had gone back to Steve. For a brief few months, you’d all study in the library together and formed your own nice, albeit tense, group.

Then lines and threads became tangled and unspoken feelings became harsh actions.

Now, Nancy and Jonathan are whispering about something, off in their own world, and you’re currently helping Steve with an English assignment.

It’s the last day before winter break, so it’s hard getting him to pay attention to what you’re saying. All he can focus on is the way you’ve pinned your hair up, some pieces of hair falling over your face, and how you look so lovely in your white sweater.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes.

Steve coughs, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, distancing yourself from the boy, which only makes him frown. “What did I just say, then?”

“C’mere,” he huffs at you, tugging at your chair so that you’re now pressed flush against him; just the way he likes it. You blush, your stomach flutters wildly at the idea that he can’t be more than five inches away from you. Steve sees this, sends you a wink, and tries to use this to his advantage. “We both know I wasn’t listening, angel.”

Angel.

It’s become his new name for you, though he hasn’t said it since the night of the Snowball; the name drips from his lips as if saturated in sunlight. Although you want to litter his face with kisses and call him lovely and handsome and wonderful, you know that in this instance, Steve has only used the nickname to get on your good side.

And two can play that game.

“I don’t know, honey.” You lean in closer to Steve, angling your head so that you look up at him while you use your own name for him. His breath always hitches when you look up at him like this, when you call him honey again for the first time all sweet and soft. “I was hoping you’d been listening.”

Steve gulps, he’s still not used to the way your voice dips low when you want his attention. How when you call him honey he swears he can taste the residue of it in his mouth. He leans closer as well, your faces inches apart, and he’s forgotten what the two of you are even talking about. “I–I’m sorry?”

As soon as he’s apologized, you pull yourself away, just before Steve’s lips land on yours, and go back to the English assignment. You’re immensely pleased with yourself, especially when Steve almost face plants against the library table when you suddenly move away. “Apology accepted! Now, let’s go back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

Steve’s jaw drops, only now realizing that he’s been tricked. “Oh, that was evil, Y/N.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You wink at him, and Steve has never wanted to kiss a smirk off of someone’s face more.

He’s addicted to it, honestly.

Later that day, once school has let out, Steve drives you to work. This was another shift that came with Jonathan and Nancy getting together. While your best friend still drives you to school, it’s now Steve who drives you to work and picks you up.

He enjoys spending the time with you, having you all to himself during the simple ten minute drive to Bookstrordinary. The two of you rarely say much during these drives, and it’s everything Steve could ask for and more; he simply has you with him, nothing else needs to be said or done.

Mrs. Waters greets him with a knowing smile, the woman has become more invested in Steve’s infatuation with you than even your mother. “Hello, young man.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” Steve gives her a wave and walks over to his usual station: behind the counter, waiting for you.

You give your boss a quick hug and clock in. “Any new shipments today?”

“All the new books are in the back, so make sure your handsome man does all the heavy lifting, sweetie.” Mrs. Waters giggles at her own words before she slowly makes her way into her office.

“Well,” you nudge Steve. “You heard the woman, you’re a handsome man. Go do the heavy lifting.”

The compliment, though indirect, still rolls over Steve in slow, warm waves. He smiles bashfully at you. “Handsome, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you didn’t know.” You flick his nose and walk over to the back door to start retrieving the new shipment. “Seriously, though. Could you help me with these boxes?”

Steve is quick to run over and help, he will always be happy to help you, but before he picks up a box, a thought occurs to him. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks at you. “I’ll help, after you explain to me that little stunt you pulled earlier in the library.”

“What stunt?” A huff escapes you as you try to pick up a box, but Mrs. Waters had been right. The shipment is heavy, and Steve is currently useless.

“The whole ‘honey’ thing.”

You look up at Steve, knowing exactly what he’s asking, but you toy with him anyways. “Only if you explain the whole ‘angel’ thing.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groans, annoyed that you’re so good at dodging all of his questions. He doesn’t know what makes you Hendersons so great at deception, but it’s a terrifying thing to witness. “You’re an angel, it’s a fitting name for you.”

Though you’d been expecting him to say this, hearing Steve’s explanation still causes you to blush. Normally it bothers you when people call you an angel and act as if you’re some person above everyone else, but with Steve you know that he means it so genuinely. To him, you’re an angel because he knows you so well.

He doesn’t view you as this innocent creature that can do no wrong; Steve knows how you came to be, he knows the anger you once held, and it’s because of this that he has come to view you as angelic. It takes a lot for someone to become kind again, and Steve knows this better than anyone else.

“You’re sweet honey,” you finally respond, your face still warm from the vulnerability. You want to try for him, become okay with the feeling of being seen. “You asked for a nickname, and that’s what I’ve landed on. Any more questions?”

Steve practically melts against the doorway, and you almost giggle at the sight. “I’m honey?”

“Mhm, sweet honey, but honey sounds less dramatic.”

He laughs, his head is spinning and he’s so enamored with you. “Okay, I like that, but can I ask one more question before I agree to helping you?”

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly enjoying this moment with him. “Ask away.”

“Why honey? Not that I’m complaining, but…” Steve shrugs. “Not so creative.”

You gasp, “Are you saying you don’t accept my nickname for you?”

“No! I–” Steve frantically tries to correct what he’s said, but you grab his hand to calm him down.

“Relax, Steve. I was teasing,” you give his hand a squeeze, his fingers are strong against yours, and take a deep breath. The explanation is more intimate than you’d like, but he deserves to know. “Did you know that honey can be used to treat wounds?”

Steve shakes his head, silent as he listens.

“It’s a natural remedy, an unsuspecting cure, disguised as something only sweet.” You’re suddenly shy again, but you offer Steve more of yourself because you can; because he’s here, all warmth and love and summer. He’s healed wounds within you that you hadn’t known existed until you noticed their scars fading—cuts that have littered your skin from abandonment, guilt, and love. “When I was young, my dad would take me to this local farm on my birthday every summer and he would buy me honey. We’d use it to make sweet tea.”

You pause, the memory practically on your tongue as you remember the taste of the local farmer’s honey and how it would drizzle, slow and smooth, into your sweet tea. You remember your father’s laugh, how he would boast to the entire town that his sweet tea could win awards. “I never really liked tea, but my dad’s sweet tea was amazing.”

The honey had been his secret ingredient.

Steve is quiet after you’ve finished your story. He takes his time responding, he allows the story you’ve told to sink in, he rolls it around in his head, memorizes its details. He knows that you don’t like talking about your father, and the fact that you’ve shared a happy memory about him with Steve…

“Thank you,” he says. There’s a weight behind his thanks, he knows he will never be able to put into words how much this means to him. He tries, though, and pours every truth that he can into his words, “I love the nickname.”

The two of you begin unpacking the new shipment of books after that, working silently side by side.

It’s a lovely summer day within Bookstrordinary, even though it’s the middle of winter in Hawkins.

–

This Christmas Eve, you have your entire kitchen on lockdown. No one is allowed to come in, all food and drinks have been thrown onto the dining room table for others to use. Your hair is tied up, your apron is on, and you’ve banished Dustin from even looking at you.

“This is excessive, even for you.” Dustin scoffs from the living room, annoyed that he can’t even sit at the counter and watch.

You’ve just preheated the oven and are now whisking your dry ingredients together for Mike’s favorite brownies. There’s a rack of Will’s oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter cooling off, alongside Mrs. Wheeler’s sugar cookies she loves. “You lost your baking privileges when you mixed up the salt and sugar last year. Those gingerbread cookies were awful.”

“They’re both white! How was I supposed to know?”

“Stop talking and leave,” you point towards the living room with your whisk and some powder flies out of the bowl in the process.

Dustin tries to argue, but then the doorbell rings and he immediately breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Perfect timing.”

“What–” You try to question what your brother is up to, but he’s already run to answer the door. Sighing, you slowly mix in your wet ingredients and mumble to yourself, “I hate him. I really do.”

“Who do we hate?” Steve slides into the kitchen, not a care in the world, and slides right into Jonathan’s peanut butter cups. “Shit!”

“Steve!” You quickly catch the desserts, barely able to hold onto the bowl of brownie batter in your hands. Once the crisis is averted, you turn to Steve and begin hitting him with your batter covered whisk, effectively ruining his sweater. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Dustin now slides into the kitchen as well, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at the batter he’s covered in and scraps some off with his finger before bringing it to his mouth. He hums, nods appreciatively, and smacks his lips. “Ya know, why haven’t I had this before?”

“The brownies are for Mike.” Dustin says, sneakily popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth.

“Wheeler should share, this batter is delicious.” Steve licks some more off of his sweater and you and Dustin cringe at him. When he sees this, he simply shrugs at you both. “What? My sweater is clean.”

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and go back to the batter. “Again I ask: what are you doing here?”

“Like the kid said, he invited me.” Steve points to Dustin, who sends you a thumbs up. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a war zone, though.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you say, as if this is all the explanation he needs. When Steve only tilts his head at you in confusion, you huff and put down your bowl so you can quickly explain. “I bake everyone their favorite desserts for Christmas, and normally it’s fine. However, now I have Max, Nancy, Hopper, and El to add to my baking list and I…”

You stumble, now suddenly feeling the effects of baking all day catching up to you. You’re slightly woozy, you can’t remember if you had lunch today. “I’m doing great, honestly.”

“She’s going insane.” Dustin loudly whispers to Steve, his fingers circling around his head in a “crazy” motion.

Steve ignores the boy and stands next to you, placing a hand to the small of your back and leans over your shoulder, allowing you to lean back against him. It’s a simple gesture, and you melt immediately against him. “Give me a bowl and recipe, angel. I’ll help you bake.”

You reluctantly move away from Steve and quickly find a piece of paper and a pen to scribble the recipe for Nancy’s chocolate chip cookies. It’s an easy enough recipe, you trust that Steve can handle the basics.

As you hand the recipe to him, Dustin’s jaw drops. “What, no fair! Why can’t I help bake?”

“Salt and sugar, Dustin. Salt and sugar.”

Steve gathers the ingredients he needs. “Do you have a spare apron?”

“I mean, sure,” you show him where one hangs next to the doorway. “But you’re already covered in brownie batter, so I’m not sure why you need one now.”

“Wanna match with you,” Steve quickly ties the strings around his waist, the apron is far too small on him and it makes you giggle.

Dustin, now very much third wheeling, throws his hands up in the air and marches out of the room. “You two are disgusting, ya know that?”

“Love you too!” You call after the boy, who responds by marching even louder towards his room.

With your brother gone and with Steve’s help, you manage to get through the rest of your baking list in no time. While you hadn’t expected Steve to necessarily fail in the kitchen, you were also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he seemed to be while helping you bake.

“How’d you get so good at measuring sugar?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his measuring cup, too focused on the task at hand as he carefully counts out how many cups he will need. “My mom.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not having expected the answer. He never really brought his parents up, something that you’ve noticed but never touched on with him. You figured it was like your father, never wanting to talk about someone who has hurt you.

Hesitantly, you try to learn more. “Does she bake with you a lot?”

“She used to,” Steve counts his third cup and mixes it into the bowl, now working on Max’s coconut bites. “Back when I was little, we used to bake her banana bread together all the time.”

His voice is light, the conversation isn’t a painful one for Steve, so you decide it’s safe to press further. “Well, if you can remember the recipe, I’m sure we can bake it today.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, dummy.” The way he’s looking at you with such genuine enthusiasm makes your heart hurt; he’s surprised you’ve offered him kindness. “I was going to bake you those caramel banana cookies, so I have some ripe bananas anyways–”

You’re cut off by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, and he smells of sugar and cinnamon; it’s an addicting scent. “Thank you,” he breathes out, touched that you would do such a thing for him, and you tighten around him, happy that you’re able to give him this.

Later that night, when you walk Steve to his car after a long day of baking, he opens his passenger side door and grabs something from the seat. You watch him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You think I came all the way here on Christmas Eve without a gift for you?” Steve teases, a smirk on his face as he hides something behind his arms.

You gasp, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dustin called, I answered, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to surprise you,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, I got homemade banana bread out of it, so shush and close your eyes.”

“Fine, but only because I have your gift waiting in my room. The second we’re done here, I’m running inside and bragging about my impeccable gift giving abilities.”

Steve chuckles fondly, knowing that whatever you will give him will ultimately be his favorite gift he’s ever received. “Okay, moron. Close your eyes.”

With a giggle, you close your eyes and eagerly await whatever you’re about to be given. Steve’s gift from last year, a signed poster of the original Spider-Man comic, now hangs on your bedroom wall. You love it dearly, every time you look at it, you smile.

Something soft is placed within your hands. Its texture is woolen, the material is heavy yet lightweight, and while you can’t figure out exactly what it is, you can’t help but notice how expensive it feels. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You do, and when you see what Steve has given you, you gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Within your hands is a cardigan. The wool it has been knitted with is a lovely cream color, and you bring the clothing closer to admire all the wonderful details within the knit pattern. With small pieces of wool, hints of baby blues and pinks weave in and out of the cream. Along the front are buttons made from a beautiful dark wood, polished to perfection.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. Figured I owed you a new cardigan after basically tearing apart your old one.”

“I was bleeding out, Steve.” Your finger traces over a button, its wood is cool to the touch and so smooth that you can hardly believe it’s real. “If you hadn’t torn my favorite cardigan to stop the bleeding, I wouldn’t be alive today to call you an idiot for even considering I would be mad about that–”

As you admire one of the sleeves, your finger catches on something. Turning the clothing around, you see, within the inside of the sleeve, a messily sewn on patch. The stitches are crooked and horribly uneven, clearly done by someone unskinned with a needle. “What’s this?”

Steve clears his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Just… Something I added.”

The patch is small, no bigger than an inch or so, with messy handwriting on it that has become familiar to you through long hours at Bookstrordinary helping you write down all the orders needed for shipments.

S.H.

Steve must mistake your stunned silence for disgust, because he quickly tries to take the cardigan away from you in embarrassment. “Fuck, you–you think it’s weird and you hate it and I went too far–”

He had wanted to give you a piece of himself somehow.

His panicked rambling is cut off by your entire body being thrown against his. Suddenly he has an armful of you, flushed against him in the December chill, and Steve’s heartbeat threatens to beat out of his chest. He has you right where he wants you, in his arms with your perfume swirling around his brain as he buries his face into your hair.

Everything calms within him, all the panic and insecurity he had just been feeling is now gone.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re now crying. No one has ever made something for you, and the hand sewn patch that now resides on your beautiful cardigan makes everything within you burn.

Steve’s fingers slowly make their way to your hair and he risks pressing a kiss atop of your head. He relishes in the way his lips feel against your hair, how it feels like he’s done this all his life. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You pull your head from his chest and catch his eye. They shine when they look at you, and you can’t help but think about how similar they look compared to last summer. Last July Steve had looked at you like he’d fall to his knees for you and kiss every crevice of your skin if you’d asked him to, and you had run away, terrified of the feelings you weren’t ready to face.

Now, as Steve stares down at you still as if you’re holding the sun within your hands, all you can think is home.

Home.

What a fascinating concept, being able to find a home within someone’s arms.

And it’s a fall like no other.

“I’m glad you love it,” Steve is breathless, both relieved and in awe that he’s done something to render you this speechless, that he has this effect on you.

Neither of you know how long you stand there wrapped in each other, but eventually you force yourself to detangle from the boy. When Steve groans at the loss of your touch, you gently shove him away with a smile. “I still owe you a gift, dummy.”

He thinks about this for a moment, hums to himself and taps his finger against his chin. You giggle, which is all he wanted to make you do, and finally he seems to come to a decision. “Fine, I will allow this because I wanna know what you got me.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick Steve’s nose and begin walking towards your house. “I’ll be back in a second!”

Steve watches as you run back inside, the cardigan he has gifted you is clutched tightly to your chest, and he knows he’s falling as well. He can feel it, the slight tug within his chest that expands into a warmth that steadily beats alongside his heart.

As you promised, you’re back with a small box wrapped in a simple blue paper within no time. Only this time, you’re now wearing the cardigan and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he sees you.

You’re practically skipping as you return to his side, stupidly excited for Steve to see what you’ve gotten for him; you all but shove the gift into his hands. “Open it!”

He can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, though his heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled yet. “So bossy.”

You ignore Steve’s teasing and instead watch the look on his face as he unwraps the box and opens its lid. Within the box, tucked delicately between sheets of tissue paper, is a framed photo of Steve and Dustin.

A mix of emotions cross Steve’s face, from shock to curiosity to pure adoration. His lips part slightly, a slight gasp escapes him. “Y/N…”

You’re beaming, though you shrug as if it’s just another Monday for you. The photo is your favorite, taken the other day while they worked on a robot set that Steve had brought over. “Jonathan left his camera at my place a few weeks ago, and you and Dustin looked incredibly sweet working together, so… I snuck a picture while you two were busy bickering over drill bit sizes.”

In the picture, Dustin’s hands are gesturing wildly at Steve, his eyes manic, yet there’s a genuine smile on both of their faces despite the clear indications that they’re arguing. Tools are scattered around them and a poor, misshapen robot lays discarded on the table in front of them, long forgotten in the midst of their argument.

It’s the perfect photo, honestly.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, his eyes are shining with fondness. “That kid is such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but you can’t help but love him anyway.” You nudge him, drawing his attention back to you. “It’s not often I see Dustin befriend someone so quickly, ya know.”

Steve ducks his head down, flushed from what you’re implying. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his cheek, before whispering into his ear, “and so are you.”

You feel Steve shiver, and he grips at your waist so that you can’t back away again. He pauses for a moment, allows your words to sink in and your kiss to seep throughout his body. There’s more he wants to say, his lips practically beg to be drawn to yours, but he takes a deep breath and says what he knows he can give you. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Your lips graze Steve’s ear and he shivers again. This, he knows, is where he was always meant to be.

–

Spring comes, and Steve doesn’t get into any of the colleges he applied for.

It’s a hard blow, and the months you’ve spent trying to rebuild his confidence comes crashing down within seconds.

Steve draws into himself, you don’t see him at school for a few days and he doesn’t stop by your work. He’s embarrassed, hiding from his shame of not being good enough to even get into Tech. He’s everything his father told him he’d be. A failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name.

You give Steve a few days to himself, trusting that he’ll come back when he’s ready; you know how deeply he carries the weight of his father’s expectations. However, when almost a week goes by without any word from the teen, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Which leads you to now: knocking on Steve’s door with platters of fresh baked goods, Mike and the others holding their own assortment of snacks and movies for tonight.

It took a lot of bargaining and multiple batches of brownies, but in the end you convinced Dustin and the others to surprise Steve with a movie night at his house. You knew his parents would be out of town this week, they’re hardly ever home anyways.

After a few swift knocks, you don’t have to wait long before Steve opens the door. He looks tired, his hair is a mess and he’s wearing the ratty sweatpants that you absolutely hate on him. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he sees who is behind his door, he frowns. “Why are you all holding snacks?”

“Well, hello to you too, buddy.” Dustin is the first to enter, shoving past Steve without a care in the world. He looks around and whistles, impressed with the house. “Y/N said you were rich, but damn.”

“Is that a pool?” Lucas makes his way in as well, Max loosely holding his hand as she follows.

El looks up at you. “What is a pool?”

“Mike,” you call for the boy to get his attention. When he turns to you, brownie shoved in his mouth, you point towards El. “Can you explain to her what a pool is while I talk to Steve?”

Mike salutes you and grabs El’s hand, yanking her inside so that you’re left alone with the teen. As soon as they’re gone, Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Mandatory movie night!” You exclaim, hoping that your fake enthusiasm will be enough to rub off on him as well. You really, really hope that this plan works.

Steve sighs again, his heart isn’t in it to play along. “Y/N…”

“You’ve missed an entire week of school and Bookstrordinary misses its most loyal customer.” You’re basically pleading now, scared that Steve will turn you and everyone else away. “I just… I miss you and I know you enjoy the kids, even if you try to deny it, and I want you to just spend this one night with us. No worrying about the future, no family drama, just me, you, and the kids as we watch horrible scary movies and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar, okay?”

“But–”

“No, you’re not allowed to argue with me.” Steve stares at you, baffled, but you simply barge past him and enter the home as well. “We’re going to have fun tonight, damn it.”

He watches as you walk inside and start ordering the kids around. Within no time, you’ve arranged a neat row of cookies and brownies and chips and dinosaur nuggets on his dining room table while the kids start making a fort in the living room.

Steve sighs, knowing he’s long lost this battle with you, and joins you to help with grabbing more blankets and pillows for the fort.

One part of the deal for a movie night at Steve’s was allowing all the kids to pick their own movie to watch. You’d been very hesitant to say yes to this, but ultimately Mike’s nagging won in the end. His movie choice goes first, and within the first fifteen minutes of it, a fort has been made and the kids quickly settle within it, a mess of sheets and pillows and blankets.

You’re on the couch, lazily stretched out, knowing that there’s no room for you in the fort with the others. You don’t mind, you honestly prefer having the couch to yourself, and you only further come to enjoy this when Steve makes his way into the living room and looks around.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asks, slightly offended that he doesn’t get to share the fort.

“Here,” you pat the couch, though you don’t bother to make any room for him. Your entire body rests on the couch, there isn’t enough space for him to sit comfortably on the edge.

Steve bites his lip. He wants, more than anything, to lay on top of you and melt into your body, but he just isn’t sure what boundaries have been placed between the two of you. When you notice his misplaced hesitation, you simply sigh and tug at his legs, causing him to fall on top of you. “Shit–”

He collapses onto you and your body braces for his impact, the weight of him foreign yet welcome. He’s wearing the cologne you love and you reach for his shirt to tug him closer so that he’s now properly laying on you. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around Steve. “See, was that so hard?”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” Steve grumbles, but he situates himself so that he’s laying more comfortably on you and scoops you into his own arms as well. He rests his head against your chest and your fingers find their way into his hair, as they always seem to do.

Steve closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy your touch, for once not caring that the kids are just below the two of you in their fort. Normally he’s more reserved around you when they’re near, especially Dustin.

That kid never lets Steve catch a break when it comes to you.

But he’s exhausted and has spent the last week either crying or pretending that he’s someone he isn’t, so Steve indulges in your warmth and relishes in the way your fingers seem to unconsciously draw small circles on his back; he’s so fucking grateful that you exist.

You’re always there to catch him, to remind him of who he can be despite his continuous flaws.

The surprise movie night ends up being everything Steve needs. He laughs at Mike’s horrible jokes, shows El how to use the VHR, he argues with Max about whether peanut butter belongs with chocolate, Dustin throws popcorn at you when you kiss Steve’s cheek, and Lucas even asks him about basketball and if he has any advice for him once he gets to high school.

It’s the most fun Steve has had in a while, and he realizes why you spend so much time with these kids. They’re everything, really. Smart and fucking hilarious and easy to be around. They’re honest with him, they tell him he’s an idiot for not getting into college while in the same breath debating with him about if college is even worth it.

Plus, you litter Steve’s face with more kisses than usual tonight, which only brightens his mood further. You’ve been more affectionate with him lately, holding his hand more often and pressing your lips wherever you can. It’s as if he’s found some key, unlocking all the love you’ve stored within you.

Steve isn’t an idiot, he knows there’s more to it, so do you. However, rather than acknowledge it, you both choose to simply bask in it. It’s not time yet, bringing this into the light. It’s delicate, still forming into something that Steve is sure will be incredible.

For now, he allows his lips to skim across your face while the kids aren’t looking. They’ve been dying to do this ever since he’s known you, and the giggle you let out is more than enough for him.

–

Spring turns to summer and before Steve knows it, he’s graduating.

He rolls over in bed and stares at the ceiling. The Harrington household is quiet. His parents have gone on yet another business trip, his father had scoffed when Steve had asked if they’d be back in time for his ceremony.

“Why should we attend if you’re not going to do anything with that diploma?”

“Right,” Steve had scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had even thought to ask his father to come. “I’m sorry.”

His mother, who had been quiet as they spoke, only stepped forward once her husband had left the room. She brought a hand to his face and tentatively stroked his cheek with her finger. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful boy.”

Steve had smiled at her, knowing that she meant well and yet heartbroken that she couldn’t voice this in front of his father. She smiled sadly at him, as if she sensed what he had been thinking, before following after her husband. As she always does.

The doorbell rings, effectively breaking Steve out of his momentary self pity. He looks at his alarm clock and frowns. It’s early in the morning, he doesn’t know who could be at the door at such an hour.

Sighing, he gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs angry at the world. He’s tired of growing up, his parents suck, he’s almost definitely skipping his graduation ceremony, and now he has to get out of bed to go answer the door.

He opens the door and when he sees that it’s you, his mood drastically improves. You’re dressed in a pretty lavender sundress, a departure from your usual t-shirts and shorts that Steve has come to associate as your summer uniform. By the time he manages to take his eyes off of you, he realizes too late that you’re holding flowers and shoving your way into his home.

“Ready to graduate?” You ask, carefully setting the flowers down on his kitchen table. “You can’t skip it if I’m here, ya know.”

Steve groans. “How did you even know I was going to skip?”

“Because you’re predictable and I enjoy making you do what’s best for you.” You’ve grabbed his hand and are dragging him towards his room. “Now, go find something nice to wear while I put your flowers in a vase.”

“But–”

You don’t give Steve any time to argue as you’ve already left the room to go and take care of the flowers. He lets out another groan, he knows he can’t argue his way out of this one. You’ve dressed up for a graduation, bought Steve flowers, and now he has to put on some stupid outfit to make a smile cross your pretty little face.

He settles on a simple white button down shirt and a pair of nice dress pants, and you return to his room as he’s struggling with the buttons. When you see him, you laugh with affection and walk over to him. “Here, let me see.”

Steve lets you button his shirt, your breath is warm against his chest as your fingers quickly secure the buttons into the place. He admires the cute frown on your face as you concentrate, and he allows his hands to come up to yours and slots your fingers together. You’re taken aback by the sudden affection.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a familiar blush on your face from his touch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this.

“Nonthin’.” Steve says, though he lets go of one of your hands and places it on the small of your back as he always does. He uses the hand to push you closer and the other hand remains intertwined with yours. He stares down at you, he’s close enough to count every eyelash that dots along your pretty eyes. “Just admiring you.”

“Is this some ploy to distract me from your graduation?” Though you try to tease him, you’re weak and let out a soft sigh when Steve pulls you even closer, feeling his body against yours. He’s allowed himself to become bolder with you, and as if to prove this, he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your brow. You exhale with a shaky breath, your resolve dwindles. “Honey…”

Steve chuckles at your reaction, revels in it. He hopes to one day memorize all the ways he can make you sigh his name and shiver against him. For now, however, he pulls away and finishes getting dressed. “I know, I know. Graduation time.”

The perfectly aimed sandal that you throw at him is enough to solidify to Steve that he is, truly, happy.

–

Dustin is the first one Steve sees in the bleachers, then Mike, and then El, before he realizes that the entire party has managed to make it to his graduation ceremony.

“You invited them?” He turns to you, somehow surprised that you would do such a simple and lovely thing.

“Of course I did.” You kiss his cheek and quickly fix his hair as you adjust his graduation cap. You’ve been fretting over his appearance ever since you left his house, and he hates how giddy he feels whenever you dote on him. “Now, go find your seat and don’t trip on the stage!”

You’re gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone as you go and join the kids in the bleachers with all the other friends and family in attendance. The school’s gym is packed, everyone has someone there for them to see them walk across the stage, and though Steve’s actual family isn’t here, he has you and the kids in the stands cheering for him.

Steve decides, then, that you and the kids are his true family.

The ceremony is long and boring, and Steve spends the entire time sneaking glances at you.

You’re attentive, nodding along to all the boring speeches made by teachers and clapping for every student’s name that is called. He sees you breakup a fight between Mike and Max over something, he guesses it’s probably something dumb, and he laughs when you switch seats with Max in the end.

As he watches you, Steve feels what he felt the first day he ever spoke to you when you almost hit his car with your bike. When he’d gotten out of his car and found you laying in the ditch, he felt what he feels now: a slow, all encompassing wave of sunlight.

He felt it when he drove you home the following week and you’d told him he wasn’t a bad person, and he felt it again when you’d spared him kindness at Jonathan’s while fighting the Demogorgon. Then, in front of the hospital’s vending machine, the sunlight turned into a fireplace within his chest when you’d giggled and told him you were friends.

Since then, the fire has only burned deeper within Steve. It burned when he’d gifted you that poster, when he had spent every day at your job just to be near you. It had burned Steve when you’d left him that summer, the sting of it unbearable as it seared his skin. Then it had dimmed, abandoned, until you came back again and reignited it once more.

When you whispered confessions to Steve in the dark, he felt it then. When you sacrificed your life to save his, leaving a scar on your rib cage that Steve can feel whenever he hugs you, he felt it then as well. The fire was there when you leaned against him, accepted the help he has always tried to provide for you, when he gave you a piggyback ride back inside Jonathan’s and tucked you into bed.

It all comes back to Steve in flashes.

Your promise to him to wait, to stay even though he couldn’t give you what you deserved, what you needed. The gentleness of your promise and the framed photo of him and Dustin that now sits proudly on his bedside table. The surprise movie nights, how you call him “honey” and he calls you “angel”.

It’s always been there.

The warmth had started back before Steve even knew what warmth was, when he first saw you. He had been thirteen and you had been twelve.

Now, at almost seventeen and eighteen, you’re cheering for Steve’s name as it’s called upon the stage and he finally knows what this feeling is. Steve accepts his diploma and shakes hands with his principal and he swears he can hear your voice, screaming his name with pure joy, above everyone else’s; it’s as if his body is attuned to yours.

This, Steve knows, is love.

–

The school year ends and summer break begins.

There’s a new mall in Hawkins, one that’s big and flashy and opens just in time for summer vacation. Dustin spends entire days there with the party before he reluctantly leaves for Camp Know Where. You miss your brother dearly, but you know the camp is good for him.

When you find out that Jonathan and Nancy have become interns at the Hawkins Post, you scream and throw yourself into their arms, incredibly proud of them, yet you’re sad as well. You didn’t realize that you’d be spending your last summer before senior year apart from your best friend, though you know he’s always dreamed of showcasing his photography.

It’s bittersweet, but when Steve gets a job at the new mall, the free ice cream that you get makes up for it.

Plus, his uniform for Scoops Ahoy doesn’t hurt.

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” Steve threatens you, horribly self conscious with how short his shorts are. You made him promise to show you the uniform, but now he’s seriously regretting it as you bite your lip; he sees the laugh before it comes. “I mean it! No laughing, it’s already bad enough that I have to work–”

He’s cut off by your loud, smug laugh. It overtakes your entire body as you hunch over, gasping for breath as you wheeze out, “You look great!”

Steve hides behind the ice cream counter, absolutely mortified. Here he is, being laughed at by the girl he’s so fucking in love with, as he wears a stupid sailor hat and a god damn ascot.

In between your laughs, you see the despair on Steve’s face and you try to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you wipe tears from your eyes, still slightly giggling. “It’s just… You look so adorable in that uniform!”

Immediately Steve straightens his back and crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified. “One, never call a man adorable. That’s just offensive. Two, I will not get out from behind this counter until you stop giggling at me.”

“Who are we giggling at?” An unfamiliar girl now appears, wearing the exact same uniform that Steve is, and when she sees you standing in front of the teen, she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “Henderson with Harrington?”

She knows your name, and you quickly wrack your head to try and figure out why she looks so familiar. At the very least, you know she has to be a grade below you, though you can’t quite place her, which you feel bad about. She looks kind.

“Yes, Henderson with Harrington.” You extend your hand out for the girl to shake. “I’m Y/N, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepts your handshake, giving you an interested smile. She already seems to like you, which you’re relieved by.

Steve watches this interaction with pure dread. He had met Robin a few days ago during his interview for the job, and she’s made his life a living hell of torment and teasing ever since. Now, with you two meeting, he knows that you’ll only add onto Robin’s incredibly quick wit. “Oh, please don’t become friends.”

“Too late.” You wink at Robin. “Wanna check out this insanely large mall together?”

Robin gasps. “It’d be my pleasure.” She hops over the counter, completely bypassing the door that lets you out, and loops her arm through yours. “Later, dingus!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He stands there, defeated, as you and Robin giggle together while you leave. It only took thirty seconds before you abandoned him like some traitor. Sighing, he picks up a rag and starts wiping down the tables in the ice cream shop.

From the corner of his eye he can see you and Robin running around the mall. You’re giggling as you chase after the girl, your hair is tied in a loose ponytail and one of the straps on your overalls has slid down your arm. You look happy, bright and alive, far from the girl Steve remembers from last winter.

It takes Steve’s breath away.

Then, as if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn. Your eyes connect, your cheeks are flushed from running and you’re breathless as you smile at him. Steve returns your smile, winks, and he can almost hear your giggle.

You finally look away, going back to chasing after Robin as the two of you retreat further into the mall, and as your figure fades in the distance, there’s only one thing on Steve’s mind.

I can’t wait to make her mine.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑  taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @thytorturedpoet @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @hsllfirescoops @l0ve-0f-my-life @newyorkangelbaby @aliceespector @chervbs @poppet055 @bookkeeperlove @bellenotthebeast @swiftieblyth @​ladyobscurus @moon-flowerss @estaticheart @dreamingofts18 @lanxsee @thecapricunt1616 @aheadfullofsteverogers @marvel-and-music @angie2274 @thescoopstroopers

[thetriumphantpanda]

Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

[prettieinpink]

HOW TO CREATE AN ENERGISING MORNING ROUTINE

WAKE UP EARLIER. Waking up early looks different for a lot of us, and i’m not going to reccomend waking up at 5am for a lot of us. Whatever time you wake up now, I would suggest waking up 30 minutes or so earlier and see how you feel. 

If you feel like you really need those 30 minutes to sleep, then use it sleeping. Whatever time makes you feel like you are at the best, is the perfect time for you. It does take some trial and error to find this time, but it’s worth it. 

Another thing, I generally wouldn’t suggest waking up past 10am. If you sleep in a little too much, you do become a bit sluggish during the first hours of your day, but whatever works for you. 

SUNLIGHT FIRST THING. Going outside, a hot girl walk or simply opening your windows to allow the sun to come in helps our body to become awake. Natural sunlight is a sign to our bodies that we need to start the day. 

This also promotes a healthy rise in cortisol to support our mood, focus and energy. This natural increase in cortisol helps with melatonin production in the evening, which improves the quality of your sleep.

Exposure to unnatural light can disrupt this rhythm, so it’s best to stay away from any devices and turn off of your lights before and after you wake up. Ideally, an hour after you wake up, should be spent device-free. (aside from alarms or setting habit tasks) 

NO PROCESSED, CAFFEINATED OR SUGARY FOODS, before you have a proper meal. When we eat these foods before a nutritious meal, it can lead to a spike in cortisol and blood sugar levels first thing in the morning, which leads to crashing in the afternoon after the spike goes down. 

When we eat after we wake up, it stabilises our blood sugar levels and replenishes ourselves after our fast. If need to be, meal prep the night before so you can have a quick and easy breakfast. As long as it properly fuels your body. 

GENTLE EXERCISES. You’ve just woken up, so you don’t want to rush your body into something too hardcore until you feel like you’re fully awake. Gentle exercises could mean stretching, a light walk or if you’re feeling a bit energised, pilates. 

SET INTENTIONS. Set the theme for how you want to feel at the start of the day, during and end. It doesn’t have to be something productive, but a feeling that you want to achieve and maximise and use that feeling in what you do. 

For ex. In the morning, I want to feel calm. During the day, I want to feel productive. At the end of the day, I want to feel accomplished. 

SHORT TO-DO LISTS! To-do lists that are more than 3 major tasks usually are unmanageable. While you can break down those 3 major tasks, try to avoid having more than 3 major tasks. 

If you do have more than 3, consider moving them into a different date if its not urgent or cutting that task completely if its not urgent and unimportant. How you assess the urgency and importance of your tasks is up to you, as you know what productivity means to you. 

Remember the basics as well, such as hydration, mindfullness, and at least one fun activity in the morning. Thank you so much for the support, even while I was a bit inactive <3

[asocialangel]

alphabet boy

NSFW alphabet for my time skip, pro striker Isagi !!

For some reason the more i wrote the more detailed i got haha, hope you like it, i reinterpreted some tropes cause i can, credits to the original owner for the template. You can ask in the comments or ask-box for other characters or other animes if u want ! 

Nice reading, you simp ;)

afab!reader / fem!reader x isagi. Smut, pretty vanilla tho

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Isagi is not the type to go straight for a shower after finishing. He will lay first, still breathless, hugging you tight. He’ll throw corny sentences around like “yeah, that was good” because he truly loved it and wants to thank you. When you get up to get cleaned up, he'll follow you and wash up too and he’ll tidy up the bed. When everything is settled he makes sure you fall asleep to his sweet words while he cuddles you. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite thing about you is your thighs. He adores how soft they are. It took him a while to admit it, but his biggest dream was to fall asleep head resting there. Now, he always gifts you short shorts or tight socks to highlight your beautiful thighs. 

About himself, he’s pretty confident in his arms. He knows you love them, how muscular they are, the way his veins kinda pop out when he crosses them. Therefore he puts on thigh shirts and works ‘em out with extra attention so they look perfect.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Isagi loves cumming on you. He was so happy when you told him you were on birth control. Because after getting both checked for STDs, that meant you could do it raw. He loves feeling his cum go inside you, inside your pussy or inside your mouth. He prefers it even more when he gets to paint you white. He loves cumming on your belly, your thighs and your beautiful face. He hates it when you put his perfect cum to waste when you spit instead of swallowing. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Once, you forgot panties at his place. And instead of, idk, smelling them, sending you a teasing picture, or even getting off to them, like a normal boyfriend would, HE TRIED THEM ON. I am not sure what went thru his mind but obviously, he broke some seams and just threw them away and never mentioned them again. That day he concluded he will never be into cross-dressing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He learnt most of it with you. Before you started seeing each other, he had had a few one night stands -not surprising for a famous football player- but he hadn't really learnt the beauty of the arts. Let's say it was trial and error. With your experience and your feedback, he keeps getting better. Still has a margin for improvement tho ;).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s rather basic, but he loves to be on top. More precisely, he loves to pin you down while your legs are on his shoulders, you're practically folded in half while he goes at it. He loves seeing you rock back and forth to his movements, and towering you gives him a good view of your beautiful face. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Depending on his mood, he can be the sun and the moon. It’s 50/50, really. Sometimes he is pretty serious and intense, and sometimes he will crack jokes and laugh and have fun ! He knows how to read the room and goes for the mood you are in. You love getting such different sides of him, cause his concentrated vibe is just as good as when he wants to make you laugh. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Isagi will keep it simple. He trims his hair down there because he prefers it that way and finds it more sanitary. As for the rest of his body, he doesn't have a lot of hair. He prefers to have his armpits shaved. And he doesn't expect anything precise of you, just your own choices and preferences.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be really romantic. Again, he’s gonna analyze the mood you want with his meta-eyes 😜 that was so corny i’m sorry. 😻 Back to business. 😹 He knows you love being praised as much as being degraded, so when he feels like it and when you feel like it, he will be really romantic, really sweet and reassuring. Thanks to him, you got to experience the iconic rose petals in the bathtub with candles moment. Even when he’s rough, he always loves to end it on a caring note. So imo, it’s 50/50, again. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to do it… a lot… while thinking of you… Look, he didn't have a girlfriend and you were everything he wanted. But now, I mean, you do it for him. Honestly, it’s not the thing that turns him on the most, you just jerking him off. He prefers when you also get pleasure. Instead, he looves to finger you, seeing you at his mercy, begging for more. He prefers it that way, so he's in control ;) 

Once, he caught you masturbating. You were so horny and he was training -as always- so you just thought “it’s gonna be quick” and did it. Well he got let off earlier and just caught you in your shared bed, going at it. “Babe ?” you were so startled and screamed, you hadn’t heard him enter. Then you guys just both started laughing really hard, and he quickly came to help you. It’s a fun memory between the two of you. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

To me, Isagi is into multiple things, but it remains pretty tame. First of all, he discovered after a certain halloween that he really liked when you were dressed up as a nurse. Even if it was a nurse covered in blood, it just tingled something in him, the tight dress, the garters on your thighs, the cutest little cap you were wearing… Yeah he definitely needed your assistance that day. So now he will sometimes, very rarely cause he is shy about it for some reason, ask you to wear it again or roleplay as a nurse. 

Other than that, he lovesss restraining your hands. He loves it because you look at him with the prettiest puppy eyes that ask him to let go. But he keeps control. You can only look at him deeper while your body moves up and down, chest taking agitated breaths. 

And obviously, Isagi is BIG into praise. He just needs you to tell him how good he is, how amazing you are feeling thanks to him. It gets him so hard and keeps him going.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For starters, he loves the bed. Basic but comfortable. When you are finished you can just rest for a few minutes before cleaning up. And he likes that the world of sweet sleep and sultry nights get mixed up in your common bed. It’s metaphorical to him, now you both share everything. Then, he likes the kitchen counter, it feels freakier to him. It rhymes with unplanned sex, because when you end up on the kitchen counter, your legs around his back, it’s often because he grabbed your ass while you were making coffee. Something about your domestic life getting spiced up makes him really appreciate the rare but precious kitchen sex. Finally, he loves shower sex. How he can perfectly see your wet body arching. The way your wet hair gets in your face, the way you only have his hair to grip because everything else is too slippery. He is always down for some backshots in a shower, no matter where you guys are. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your positive words. No seriously he cannot get enough of your compliments and seeing you feel so good thanks to him. As for what turns him on, it’s simple: you in tight clothes. Something about being able to imagine your flesh under the fabric, seeing your underboob when you’re wearing an awfully cropped top, getting to see your ass in tight jeans… If you feel bold enough to wear his jersey and nothing else, you will have to endure his hands going over every inch of your skin. He loves seeing you in revealing clothes. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Isagi would NOT want to share you. Forget about threesomes and anything close to it. He is very selfish and it would absolutely shatter his ego to see you getting off to someone other than him. Egoist-da isagi yoichi 👹 (sorry again…). Also it turns him off when you do a baby voice, just sayin. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ooh now he is a sucker (no pun intended) for you giving him blow jobs. You do it so well, very few things come close to how he feels when you look up to him, teary-eyed, and swallow. On his end, he is more than okay with giving you head, it’s just not his favorite. It doesn't especially turn him on, but he is more than happy to make you feel great. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, this really depends. If he is in his romantic act, he will go slow and sensual, making sure to caress you all the while. I think he does have a little preference for rough sex. But nothing too rough, like he will never come close to hurting you or handling in a way that isn't delicate. He likes it rude with it but he will hold you like you are made of glass. He loves to rock his hips back and forth quickly, and to finger you super fast. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Isagi is always down for a quickie. No matter where you are or where you have to be, he will make time for you (and for his needs but he always blames it on you being horny and not him being so hard you could see his bulge through his clothes). If you have time, he definitely prefers to take time and not burn any steps, but he also loves the highs of a quickie. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Most of the new things you guys tried were because you brought them up. He is always down to try, but most of the time it does not procure him anything more special than what you guys were already used to. At the end of the day, he likes it simple. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has such a high sex-drive oh my days. He could go for it every single day. The thing is, when YOU are in the mood, you want to do it time and time again, but he doesn't have the facilities to handle so many rounds back-to-back. So you guys are not always on the same page. For a single round tho, he has pretty highs stamina, he can cum rather quick but over time he learnt to delay it because he really loves to cum *after* you. I would say he lasts an average amount of time. When you guys don't do it for a hot moment though, he comes embarrassingly fast. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This man gets jealous of an inanimate object. He does NOT want you using toys when, in his own words, “you have him”. Obviously it’s not a formal prohibition but he gets really pouty when you mention vibrators and stuff. Therefore it goes without saying that he doesn't really want extra toys to come between the two of you when you are having sex. And to be fair, you really don't need them, it’s good enough as is. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

SUCH A TEASER do not play around with him, HE ALWAYS WINS. He loves to tease you about everything ! He will turn you on in public then claim it wasn't on purpose and that he can’t do anything about it as there are people around. He will also make low-key jokes about you to his friends in front of you, but the innuendos are so subtle that only you understand them. It gets you so flustered that he tells his freaking friends about it but if you react you will make it a bigger thing than it is. He also loves to touch you around, supposedly innocently, like his hands on your hips to get you out of the way, pressing your ass on the counter to reach for the coffee from behind you, you name it… He knows your sensitive spots and plays around with them, only to claim it wasn't on purpose. 

Because he turns you on then leaves you high and dry, you have to BEG him to actually release the pressure he built in. Even in bed, he loves edging you, it makes him giggle to see you struggle and he loves thinking he’s the one to control when you cum and when you don't just yet. So yeah, biggest teaser. And don’t try to tease him back as revenge, he will tease you ten times harder if that's even do-able. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Low key (emphasis on the low-key) a whiner. To be fair, he doesn't really make much noise, but on lucky days you will hear him paint like the little baby girl he is. He doesn't really grunt either, he just breathes loudly in your ear. And he talks a lott. Like he is always saying something, asking you how you feel, teasing you, adoring you. After a bit, you put it together that he really, really likes hearing you moan, his name particularly. So you are kind enough to moan more, more sexily, more in his ear, and more is name. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Isagi told Bachira when he did it for the first time with you, as he should to his bestie. Thing is he disclosed pretty personal stuff about YOU to him. So the day after, bachira greeted him, accompanied by chigiri and other teammates, a cake that read: “congratulations on finding yourself a squirter”... Yeah… He never told you about it and it’s better like this, and since then he learnt to keep storytimes succinct.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Apart from his beautiful toned muscles, nun special. His underwear is so basic, like black and dark blue hues. Since he got rich and famous, he only buys luxury brands but the truth is he is not knowledgeable at all so he keeps it simple. He doesn't know jack shit about girls underwear either, but he is a simp for you in lingerie. So he gives you allowance money for you to go buy cute and sexy and expensive nightwear. He loves cumming on it so you often have to buy some new ones. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty average honestly ! Maybe a little bit more than others, but he is not part of the ‘rabbit’ line of bllk (Aiku i’m looking at you). He can defo hold it in and would rather wait to see you again than to jerk off alone in a hotel room. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Never faster than you ! He loves to see you doze off, clinging to him, peaceful and tired. 

[ylangelegy]

all of the while, it was you ꩜ hyunjin x reader.

── .✦ 💌 reader uses she/her pronouns. includes: idol!hyunjin, café owner!reader, feelings realization, freeform, time skips, fluff, coffee shops & cafés, slice of life, skz ensemble.

── .✦ 🚏 i know the "i-had-no-idea-you-were-an-idol" trope is one of the oldest, most worn clichés in the book, but sometimes you have to release the corny fic into the world so it can stop haunting you 🙂↕️ the title is from landon pigg's falling in love at a coffee shop. originally posted on ao3, but then i orphaned it (lol) so here's its new home! ♡︎

── .✦ 📟 wc: 4,000+

She doesn’t admit this to Hyunjin until much later on, but when he walked into her café the first time, she had thought— as one usually does— that this ethereal boy should be a star of some sorts. A model, an actor.

Where others might have spoken up, she chose to keep it to herself. (A good choice, too. If she had said anything, Hyunjin would have never returned.)

He is shy, at first. He sits at a table far from the door and spends most of his stay doodling in his notebook.

Outside, snow begins to fall.  

Hyunjin gets on his phone to call Jeongin over. She steps out from behind the counter and lingers by the window. 

Separately, they admire the sign of the times. Hyunjin thinks of romance that can be painted. Her mind goes to warm drinks that can be sold. Briefly, the two share a glance.

They exchange no words— not a single pleasantry about the weather— but Hyunjin does offer up the smallest of smiles, which she returns. 

He goes back to his phone. She retreats to the kitchen. 

Neither of them have any idea of what was ahead. 

That day, they witness the first snow of the year together. 

Hyunjin becomes a regular. 

He’s never done that before. The most he’s been to an establishment is probably twice, thrice, before the place is overrun with fans and he has to find a new hiding spot. 

He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful. But there are some things he wants to keep to himself, and this café is one of them. He doesn’t realize how often he’s gone until, one evening, the barista at the counter says, “Your usual?” instead of waiting for him to speak.

“Yes, please,” he says. He slides over the exact payment and sits at the table he likes the most. 

Through trial and error, he figured that the café had little to no people nearing its closing time. And so he only ever stopped by in the evening, usually after practicing stages and before heading home. 

She serves him his drink, his ‘usual’, and Hyunjin blurts out something that’s not his average ‘thank you’ and ‘please’. 

“What’s your name?” he asks, because this is not the type of café where the barista has a name card on their apron. He flushes and goes on. “It’s just— I don’t think I ever got your name.” 

She laughs kindly and answers. It’s a pretty name, Hyunjin thinks to himself.

“And you?” she inquires politely. 

There’s a seed of suspicion in him, a flicker of doubt. Did she really not know him? He had been tricked before by people feigning ignorance.

But her expression is curious, and earnest, and he decides to give her the benefit of doubt. 

“Hyunjin.” 

“Hyunjin,” she repeats, as though testing the name out on her tongue. A fleeting thought passes his mind: My name sounds safe with her. 

She smiles. “It’s nice to finally know you, Hyunjin. Thanks for always coming to my café.” 

“This is yours?” he says, a little dumbstruck. He had assumed she was just an employee. 

“It is.” There’s a proud gleam in her eyes. “It’s always been my dream to own one, and here I am.”

“It’s one of my favorite places,” says Hyunjin. He’s not even exaggerating; he means it. He adores the floor-to-ceiling windows, the intricate woodwork, the potted plants in every corner.

Her smile brightens, widens. She thanks Hyunjin and is about to say more when the bell by the door chimes. “Oh, a customer. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s no problem. Go ahead.” 

She rushes over to the counter. Hyunjin sinks a bit into his seat, doing his best to avoid the newcomer’s gaze. 

That day, Hyunjin learns how a name can make a world’s difference. 

One evening, Hyunjin asks her, “What kind of music do you like?”

She looks up from bookkeeping and tongues the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. She names a handful of genres, none of which might fit the bill for Stray Kids. 

Over the past weeks, Hyunjin had gotten to know her. Her love for coffee and baked goods. Her impulsive decision to move to Korea. Her loneliness, dulled only by the steady flow of patrons visiting her shop.

There are still some weeks where he thinks it’s too good to be true. To be undiscovered this long, to meet someone who didn’t know a thing about his industry, to strike up a friendship that had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

She asks a question of her own. “Do you have any pets?”

Hyunjin brightens at the opportunity to talk about Kkami.

That day, he remembers what it’s like— to be curious, to be known.

It occurs to Hyunjin, quite suddenly, that he won’t be seeing her for a while. 

The thought only comes as his plane is taking off.

He had seen her over the weekend. She sought his honest opinion on drinks she planned to add to her menu. 

At the time, he hadn’t thought of bringing it up. What would he say, anyway? I’m going on a worldwide tour.

Miserable, he fiddles with his phone until Changbin levels him a firm look. 

“There’s in-flight Wi-Fi,” he says. “Do you want me to get the password for you?”

“Yes, please.” 

Once connected to the internet, Hyunjin searches up the café’s socials and finds its number, which is effectively her number. His heart leaps out of his chest.

He stares at the blinking cursor in the KakaoTalk chat. He had never given out his socials to her out of fear she would realize who he was, what type of life he lived. Now, he was considering using his personal number to message her.

It feels like too much. Hyunjin places his phone face down onto his lap. He wasn’t going to text her. He shouldn’t. Right?

In the next two hours, he probably checks and puts down his phone a dozen times. Fed up, Changbin eventually groans, “Just do what you have to do already!”

Hyunjin, red-faced, picks up his phone. Changbin is right. He keys in a quick message to the café’s account and hits send before he can overthink it.

Hi, this is Hyunjin. I usually come on weekday nights. I might be gone for a while; I’m heading abroad for work. I’m just letting you know, so you don’t think I hate your coffee or anything. Stay healthy and don’t work too hard. 

He exhales in relief, only to be startled by a notification mere minutes later.

Hi, Hyunjin, she responds. You’re so funny, but also right. I would have been sad if I thought I lost my favorite customer. Stay safe, okay? Send me photos of nice cafés during your travels!

Another notification pops up. It’s weird to be messaging on the shop’s account. LOL. Here’s my personal number.  

Hyunjin can feel his heart hammering underneath his chest. He’s ecstatic to have her number, sure, and an excuse to message her while he’s away, but he’s mostly flustered by a small phrase in her text. ‘My favorite customer.’

It might be something she says to everyone; Hyunjin doesn’t care. He suppresses a wide smile from a Changbin eyeing him with open curiosity. 

That day, Hyunjin remembers what it feels like to have a crush.

Hyunjin makes good on her offhanded request.

She receives numerous photos of coffee shops and bakeries across the world. Look at this catacomb concept, he says of a café in London. I thought the menu here was good, he notes with a picture from Hanoi.

I want whatever job you have, she texts back after he sends a video of a patisserie in New York. You’re always going to such cool places.

He doesn’t respond for a couple of hours. She worries, briefly, if she had said something wrong. She brushes it off as the timezone difference.

He texts as she’s trying to whip up a new batch of croissants. It’s nice, you’re right, but sometimes I wish I had a job where I could just stay in Korea, he replies. I’ve been to all these places and I think your coffee is still the best. 

She wipes the flour off her hands so she can shoot back, You’re just saying that so you can get free drink next time. 

He sends a GIF of a cartoon cat crying. I mean it, he texts. I miss you. 

She nearly drops her bowl of batter when she sees what he said. Thankfully, he follows up with, LOL, sorry, sent too soon. *I miss your lattes. 

Riiight, she types, then erases.

If you miss me, just say so, she types, then erases.

I miss you, too. 

She erases that and sends instead, LOL. I’ll be sure to perfect it by the time you come back. 

That day, she burns a batch of croissants as she tries to figure out how she feels.

The answer reveals itself to her soon enough.

She’s just about to pack up shop when she hears the front door’s bell. She begins to instinctively apologize about being closed for the night when she sees who the guest is. 

Hyunjin, with two paper bags in his hands. 

“That’s too bad,” he says dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to give these away to someone else, then.”

She laughs; he grins. He places down the bags on a table and asks, “Think you could spare a few minutes for your favorite customer?”

“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “Give me a second.”

She flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’, turns off online deliveries on her phone, and leaves all but one light open.

“I’m only willing to stay overtime for you,” she laughingly tells a Hyunjin who is watching her do her closing routine. “I can make you a drink, though…”

“No need.” He waves her over. “I got you some stuff.”

“You didn’t have to,” she says as she tries to peek into the bags. “When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. I went straight to my parents, though, before coming here.”

“How was all the traveling?”

“Tiring, fun. I’m glad to be home.”

She offers him a gentle smile. “I’m glad you’re back, too,” she says. In the sparse light of the café, it’s hard to tell for sure, but she thinks she sees Hyunjin blush.

He shoves one of the bags forward. “Here are some decorations for the café. They’re nothing fancy, and it’s still up to you whether you want to put them up…”

Hyunjin trails off as she brings out one decoration after the other. She’s overwhelmed. They’re all gorgeous and fitting of her café’s aesthetic.

“Hyunjin,” she says, awed. “I can’t possibly take these.”

But Hyunjin is shaking his head and already gesturing towards the other bag. “This one has a bunch of coffee packets I got from different places. I thought you might like them.” 

The thoughtfulness of it draws a disbelieving laugh out of her. “That’s it. You’re getting free drinks for a month,” she says seriously.

Hyunjin laughs, too. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, it is very necessary. This—” She gestures at all of Hyunjin’s gifts. “Is a really nice thing for you to do. Thank you, Hyunjin. Really.”

The smile on his face makes her pulse race. 

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Anything for my favorite barista.” 

That day, she concedes: She may have romantic feelings for this particular customer. 

It takes Hyunjin a few weeks after that to work up the courage to ask her out. 

When he found out her favorite Disney movie was putting out a sequel, he knew this was a golden opportunity. So, one evening, he asks if she’s free that weekend.

She says yes, because it’s her favorite film, but also— because it’s Hyunjin.

Neither of them refer to it as a date. It goes unspoken, is undeniable in its implication. They are two friends who are obviously attracted to each other. This was supposed to be the first time they meet outside her shop.

Hyunjin chooses a small movie theater and buys the tickets in advance. He texts her the details and she says she’ll be there.

Since immigrating, most of her time has just been going back and forth to her café and her apartment. She took cabs more often than not. She avoided tourist spots and malls, and only ever went out to do groceries or buy supplies.

So, that evening, when she decides to try taking the bus, it is her first time at the stop. She sends a text to Hyunjin saying she’s on her way, looks up from her phone, and sees him. 

Except it’s not him in the flesh. It’s him, on the bus stop’s LED screen. Nearly unrecognizable. 

The Hyunjin she knows wears dark hoodies and unbranded caps. The Hyunjin on the screen is dressed from head to toe in designer. She stares, slack-jawed, as text appears. ‘Hwang Hyunjin: Our Shining Star.’

A student sitting near her claps their hands. “Oh, are you a STAY, too? Is Hyunjin your bias?” they ask. 

She clears her throat. “Yes,” she lies, and the student nods excitedly.

“My bias is Felix,” the teenager raves. “I guess we’re both danceracha fans, ha-ha!”

The student boards the next bus that comes. It’s the same bus that’s supposed to pass by the mall where she has to go, but she stays rooted in her seat.

She finds herself doing inventory on what she knows about Hyunjin. He didn’t like talking about his job, only ever mentioning it in vague terms. It involved a lot of traveling. It was tiring, he said. But fun.

Her phone dings. Hyunjin’s message reads, Getting us popcorn. What flavor do you want? 

She looks at the text, then back up at the LED screen. Could it be a twin, maybe? No, she thinks. They had the same name. 

Instead of answering his question, she replies, Who are you?

Hyunjin responds with a sticker of a whale with several question marks over its head.

What’s a ‘STAY’? Who’s Felix? What’s a ‘danceracha’? Why do you have a poster at the bus stop?, she asks in a succession of texts.

She repeats, Who are you?

In the cinema lobby, Hyunjin feels his blood run cold. He can’t breathe, suddenly. In his excitement to invite her out, he hadn’t accounted for the dozens of birthday banners around the city.

He practically bolts out of the mall. He flags down a taxi that takes him back to his apartment, where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are starting a new Netflix series.

“Hey, Hyune. I thought you’d be back—” Chan falters, then gets to his feet. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin hadn’t realized there were tears streaming down his face until Jisung pauses their show and Changbin rushes to grab a box of tissues.

“I think I messed up,” Hyunjin says, his voice barely above a whisper.

She goes home that night and resists the urge to search him up. She wants to hear it from him, who he is, and why he had been so keen to hide it. 

Hyunjin, meanwhile, fights back sobs as he admits to his friends what had happened. How badly he had wanted to be normal, for once, and how it was now blowing up in his face.

When she falls asleep, she dreams of a darkened movie house— one bucket of popcorn, shy fingers dancing around each other’s touch.

Hyunjin tosses and turns in bed for hours. Her texts glare up at him, unanswered. Who are you, Hyunjin? 

That day, the weather forecast is dreary. The rainy season has come early.

She hardly has time to think of Hyunjin.

The rain brings in more customers. Those seeking shelter from the downpour, those in need of a warm drink.

On Monday, two boys swoop in with ridiculously oversized umbrellas.

“Your blueberry cheesecake looks good,” the smaller of them says. “Can I have a slice and an iced coffee too, please?”

“An iced coffee in this rain?” The taller sniffles dejectedly. “Jisung-ah, that’s impractical.”

Jisung glances at her for support.

“I think iced coffee can be enjoyed in any weather,” she offers. 

Jisung looks pleased. “See, Minho-hyung?”

Minho rolls his eyes but smiles slightly. “I think I’ll stick to my hot coffee. One espresso, please,” he says, and she punches in their orders.

The one named Jisung shoots several looks at her throughout their stay. Minho is mostly indifferent. (Or, rather, more discreet in stealing glances.) They leave a tip in her jar on the way out, and talk about her on the way home.

On Tuesday, a boy wearing a baseball jersey comes up to the counter.  

“Do you make all these yourself?” he asks while looking at the menu.

“I do,” she says. “I came up with most of the recipes, too.”

His eyes shine. “Can I have an iced Americano with syrup for takeout? And—” He pauses, as though deciding on whether he should continue. “Do you mind if I watch you make it?” 

She grins. She enjoyed customers like this. She invites the boy across the counter and walks him through the machinery, the procedure, the ingredients.

“Thank you so much,” he says once it’s all done, when he has his to-go cup in his hand. 

“It’s no problem. If you ever want to learn more about making coffee, my door’s always open.”

He smiles. “Thanks.” Another thoughtful pause. “I’m Seungmin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Seungmin,” she says as she gives her own name. 

On Wednesday, three boys come in at noon.

They all don name tags over their chests.

“Binnie,” she reads out loud. The three boys balk, as though surprised. She smiles sheepishly at their reaction and points at the tags. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to shock you.”

The one with the tag that says ‘Chan’ flashes her a lopsided grin. “We came from an event. Must’ve forgotten to take these off.” 

“No problem. What can I get you guys?”

‘Lix’ scans the display of pastries and asks, “How much for everything?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Pardon me?”

“We’re going to be feeding a lot of people,” Binnie explains. “Will it be an inconvenience if we take all of your food?”

“No, not at all,” she says quickly. “But it should cost around…” She does the numbers, lets them know.

Chan nods. “That’s alright. We’ll have it all for takeout, please.” 

Bewildered, she begins to pack all the food into containers and paper bags. This had never happened to her. She would have to close shop early.

“Please choose three drinks,” she tells them. “I’ll throw them in for free.”

They look surprised. “You don’t have to,” Lix says sheepishly.

“You guys bought out my stock for the day,” she says. “I’m very grateful, and I’d love to make you a drink in exchange.”

After more of her insistence, the three reluctantly pick out their beverages. She sends them off with bags full of pastries, and large coffees for each. 

On Thursday, a familiar boy chats with her about the rain.

As she’s making his order, she tries to place where she saw him. She serves him his coffee and tentatively asks, “Are you Jeongin?”

He draws back a bit and cautiously replies in the affirmative. 

“You came here once,” she’s quick to explain. “It was snowing.”

Jeongin nods. “Right. I’m surprised you remember.”

“You were with Hy—” She falters. “Your friend.” 

He looks almost amused. “Hyunjin,” he finishes, and she nods.

“Hyunjin,” she repeats through the lump in her throat. “Well, excuse me.”

“Sure.”

She ducks back over to the counter and opens her KakaoTalk. Still nothing. She considers messaging him, but decides against it. She wants answers. If Hyunjin can’t give her any, then how can their relationship progress any further?

That day, Jeongin makes a beeline for Hyunjin’s apartment.

The rain is so bad that barely any customers come.

She contemplates closing early when the bell rings, and in comes Hyunjin.

Despite his umbrella, he is drenched from head to toe. He tracks mud into her café and drips rainwater onto her floor. She stares, mouth agape, at the audacity of this man to show up after a weeks’ worth of radio silence. 

She’s about to tell him off when he blurts out, “I’m Hwang Hyunjin.”

“I’m part of a group called Stray Kids. Our fans are called ‘STAY’,” he says. “Felix is my friend, and ‘danceracha’ is the subunit we’re part of. I love dancing. It’s what gives me life.”

He goes on, “I paint. I’m trying to get into photography, too. I like cold coffee, romance films, and you.”

She starts at the sudden confession. “What?”

“I really, really like you,” he says breathlessly. “I want to keep coming to this café. I want to watch a movie with you. But— if we’re going to do that— you need to know who I am.”

“You’re a dancer,” she repeats awkwardly.

“Yes. I sing and rap, too.”

She feels dizzy. “And you like me?”

He’s suddenly nervous, can’t meet her eyes. “Yes,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour beyond them. “I do.”

The rain falls heavily on the roof, and it is the only sound for a few precarious moments, as the two people in the café hang in delicate balance.

She makes a choice, then and there.

“Let me get you a towel,” she says. “And what coffee do you want? Your usual?”

He smiles so wide that the storm outside becomes nearly irrelevant. “Yes, please.”

That day, they sit at his favorite table and make plans.

When she finally, properly meets all of the boys, she reels backwards in abject shock.

Hyunjin places a hand on the small of her back to steady her. The seven boys laugh at her reaction, though not unkindly.

“For the record, we hadn’t planned it,” Jeongin says. He passes her a drink.

Felix— whose tag had said ‘Lix’, then— helps take her coat. “I really liked your scones! Maybe one day we could bake together,” he says cheerfully. 

“Yes, of course,” she stutters. 

“Hey, Felix.” Hyunjin wags a finger in his friend’s face. It’s not threatening at all. “That’s my girlfriend!” 

“I just wanted scones,” Felix says defensively, and more good-natured laughter ripples through the room. 

The attention shifts away from the new couple as the boys begin to lay out food onto the table for Changbin’s birthday celebration. 

Jisung notices her dumbstruck expression and gives her a reassuring smile. “Are you surprised?” he asks.

“A little.” She grins back at Jisung. “You’re the one who likes cheesecake.” 

He laughs at the comment. “And your cheesecake is one of the best! I’m glad you brought it today.” 

Hyunjin interrupts their conversation to steer her towards the kitchen. 

He juts his lower lip out in a pout. “I don’t think bringing you here was a good idea,” he says, half-serious. “I’m worried they’re all madly in love with you.” 

The absurdity of it makes her giggle. “You’re insane.” She stands on her tiptoes and presses a cheek on to her boyfriend’s cheek. “I love you, though.” 

“Damn right,” Hyunjin says. He tries to steal another kiss but she laughs, ducks away. 

“We have to go back to your friends,” she says pointedly as Hyunjin wraps his arms around her waist. 

“Five more minutes,” he whines, and she can’t help herself. She smiles.

“Five more minutes.” 

That day, they are happy. They are known. And it is more than enough.

[todorokies]

jjk characters as male thot jobs

including: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami

contents: sfw but very suggestive, jjk men acting like sluts, gn!reader but there is a fem term used once

a/n: you might not consider some of these as “thot jobs” but im here to hypnotize you ouuuuhhh *wiggles fingers around* .. this is so silly but i had a blast writing this one

☆ . . . since gojo’s brain is hardwired to find teasing others amusing and quite the pass time i could see him as a dentist. you go to your local clinic for a annual deep cleaning and this man purposely goes out of his way to make things seem inherently sensual but still manages to do his job professionally. he’ll coo and praise you for following the most regular orders “now open real nice and wide for me … that’s righttt, good girl.” and “bite down on this … mhm yes just like that, you’re doing a great job.”

he’d definitely be like the annoying ones who still try to have a conversation while knuckles-deep prodding in your mouth. “i can tell you haven’t been flossing as much as you should be, what’s up with that?” and all you can do is narrow your eyes at him. he always caress your jaw and cheek too even through the latex gloves his touches are so intimate and gentle at the end of your appointment you’ll be genuinely considering if you should fuck your dentist or not.

☆ . . . i had multiple options for geto but firmly decided on a ceramic artist. i can envision him owning a modern yet whimsical pottery studio —he wanted the modern look but nanako and mimiko insist on the whimsical interior— he offers free beginner classes twice a month. omgg the way his hands knead at the clay and skillfully sculpts on the wheel with his fingers meticulously bending, making his veins more prominent while delicately morphing the creation into a vase. he annunciates his instructions with melodic calmness but still has authority present in his tone i swearrr his voice is like honey.

you catch his eye in one of his classes and offers extended hours free of charge to help you “better your form.” he sits behind you, cradling your forearms directing your movements but still making room for you to assist your own creation. his warm minted breath tickles the back of your neck causing goosebumps “make sure to sit close to the wheel and anchor your elbows tightly against your body…” the sultry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed with him slightly moving to your ear next “don’t be afraid to make mistakes it’s all about trial and error, darling.”

☆ . . . like the unemployed bum toji is, he seems like the type of man to pride himself as a ‘jack of all trades.’ which is why i see him in the freelancer field of work, specifically, a personal shopper. he has an app on his phone where he can either accept or deny requests. he’s quite picky with commissions when money isn’t running low, but don’t get him wrong, he’s willing to go the extra mile to please his clients. always prefers phone calls over text when discussing farther details knowing his gruff voice will have the recipient weak in the knees. he isn’t shameful to treat his full time employment as a part time hookup arrangement…if he’s lucky enough that is.

“here’s your stuff, pretty.” the quite taller and muscular man at your porch hands over a brown bag containing your groceries. you don’t miss the way his hands graze yours in the exchange, his sharp eyes examine you like you’re his prey; awaiting for your next move in a game you involuntarily started playing. words of gratitude try to slither past your lips but ultimately couldn’t: you’ve officially peaked his interest. “hey, why don’t i help you unload your items?” at that, you nodded making way for the sleazy man to enter your home and eventually your bedroom as well.

☆ . . . what differentiates nanami from the rest is that he’s unaware of how insanely attractive his profession as a baker is. he truly doesn’t understand the appeal of a man in an apron kneading dough and decorating pink frilly cupcakes. he co-owns a bakery with haibara !! they even enrolled in culinary school together. the interior is quite morden with wisteria and other succulent plants hanging from the ceiling; most of the time he’s clueless to very clear advances from others or kindly shut them down saying how he’s “not looking for anything serious” which is a lie he himself started to believe.

but on a faithful sunday autumn morning you stroll in just salivating at the thought of warm dewy chocolate filled croissants, fresh from the oven, when you see him; clad in a bulky knitted cream sweater tying a black apron around his slim waist whilst his becipes bulged slightly through the thick material of the sweater. “good morning, what can i get for you today?” one thing lead to another making you leave with not only a croissant but the blond man’s phone number —due thanks to his cheeky younger coworker, yuji, who wrote the number on your receipt including a note that read: ‘he’s soooo into you :)’

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3