#buy candle equipment

[centralcoastcandle]

A Spotlight on the Top Candle Making Trends in Australia

Candle-making is a popular and creative hobby that got more attention in Australia than before. 6Wresearch states in its report that the Australian candle market will achieve a rate of 8.88% CAGR from 2022 to 2028. The increase in demand for fragrant candles, growing customers' discretionary income and the rise of the tourism industry facilitate this growth.

However, what are Australia's leading candle-making trends driving this industry and energizing more customers with candle-making supplies? The following trends are recent developments that you should note if you love candles or work as a candle maker.

What Makes Candle-Making Trends in Australia Evolve with Candle-Making Supplies?

Eco-Friendly Candles

One of the trends in candle manufacturing is eco-friendly candles. As time passes, many people think about possible ecological traces left by their purchases; they choose eco-friendly products that don't pollute nature. This inclination has led to the growing demand for soy candles made of wax derived from a natural and organic substance, namely – soya beans. Soy candles are also said to burn longer and cleaner than paraffin, an oil manufactured from petroleum, a nonrenewable pollutant.

Another evolving eco-friendly candle-making trend is using recycled or reusable containers like glass jars, metallic tins and ceramic pots. The containers can minimize the waste output caused by candle processing, making these candles more attractive. Some candle makers ask their customers to return or fill up the containers and use them to keep foodstuff, plant flowers, or make crafts.

Scented Candles

Another popular development in the candle market is sweet scented candles, which can make any environment comfortable and peaceful. In addition, scented candles may provide different health benefits to the users, including reducing stress levels and improving mood, as well as enhancing memory efficiency while promoting sleep.

Village Craft & Candle, one of America's leading distributors of candle making, reveals these are the most preferred fragrances for candles: floral, fruity, woody, or spicy. Among the most sought-after scents for spring of 2021 are jasmine, lemon, sandalwood and cinnamon. However, new trends tend to lead towards bolder and more exotic fragrances such as coconut, mango, vanilla, or chocolate perfumes, and people are creating their perfume based on personal favourites, memories, or emotions.

Decorative Candles

The other trend affecting the candle industry is decorative candles, which could give any room a luxury and aesthetic touch. The design of decorative candles can be diverse based on shape, size, colour and designs drawn in candle making by an individual according to his creativity and skills. The most popular decorative candle varieties are pillar, votive and container or taper candles. These are placed to make unique designs in various types known as decorations for arrangement on their own.

Artisanal Craftsmanship with Unique Molds

While unique moulds that turn candles into beautiful masterpieces are one of the enchanting trends currently in vogue, Fortified by nature, geometric forms or vintage design, artisanal craftsmanship enables candle-making to reach new heights. Create candles that not only serve their purpose but look like home decor.

Wholesale Candle-Making Equipment: Empowering Creativity

Access to high-quality candle-making supplies is fundamental to your crafting journey. A notable trend involves the availability of wholesale candle-making equipment, enabling enthusiasts to explore a diverse range of materials and tools. This accessibility empowers you to experiment with different techniques, from intricate moulds to innovative wick designs.

But there is also increasing demand for new innovative and bold types of decorative candles, such as the carved candle, which has intricate designs artistically chiselled on its surface, or layered candles made up of different colours combined with fragrance. These candles can be customized to emphasize the skills and artistry of a candle maker, which is useful both as personal gifts or wedding favours.

Learning and Creating Together

Australian candle makers feed off the community through shared knowledge and collaborative creativity. You get practical experience and interact with enthusiasts by participating in workshops like the ones provided by Central Coast Candle Artistry Workshops. Not only do workshops help you develop your abilities, but they also create a sense of belonging in the world of candle making.

Facts and Insights: Craft of Candle-Making Navigation

Fact: There is an extensive history behind candle making, which goes back many years ago and has moved from practical purposes to ornaments of artistic expression.

Insight: Beeswax candles, esteemed for their natural characteristics in history, are surging nowadays with their environmentally friendly and sustainable characteristics.

Fact: A vital element of the candle manufacturing process is its scent, and it has become increasingly common for modern producers to blend essential oils to create unique scents that symbolize particular emotions or memories.

Insight: The real significance of candle making is not just a hobby; it turns out to be an occupation for many Australians, who turned their craft into successful businesses producing individual handmade candles that everyone could enjoy.

Brand Highlight: Central Coast Candle Supplies

As we delve into the world of candle-making trends in Australia, we must recognize brands that contribute to the community's growth. Central Coast Candle Supplies is a notable name that provides top-quality candle-making supplies. Their commitment to fostering creativity and supporting enthusiasts reflects the Australian candle-making landscape's collaborative spirit.

As you navigate the dynamic trends in Australian candle making, remember that the beauty of this craft lies in its adaptability and personal touch. From sustainable waxes and unique moulds to personalized fragrances and access to wholesale equipment, the trends invite you to infuse your creations with innovation.

The position of Central Coast Candle Supplies as a pillar to candle lovers is a kind depiction of this creative voyage. Whether you are an artisan of candles to cherish your memories or a business-minded consumer looking for these home decorative items to make extra money, the developments in the Australian market show prospects as unique and complex as candle sticks. To seize the fads, a colourful starting point for design starts with one's imagination or creativity, and discarded candles burn bright in Australian candle making.

The position of Central Coast Candle Supplies as a pillar to candle lovers is a kind depiction of this creative voyage. Whether you are an artisan of candles to cherish your memories or a business-minded consumer looking for these home decorative items to make extra money, the developments in the Australian market show prospects as unique and complex as candle sticks. To seize the fads, a colourful starting point for design starts with one's imagination or creativity, and discarded candles burn bright in Australian candle making.

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!

[library-ghoulette]

Headcanons: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x reader who loves to bake

SFW, gender-neutral reader

Some cutesy fluff that I haven't been able to get out of my head all week. Because we've seen him go to town on that whipped cream in RHRN, we know this man has a sweet tooth.

He finds out about your hobby when you bring baked goods to a staff meeting or a Ministry potluck. "Who brought these cookies?" "Er, I did?" "So good... Did you get them at that little bakery in town?" "Oh no, I made them!" "You made them??"

He would never outright ask you to bake for him, but he can't help bringing up those cookies every now and then. Just... wouldn't it be nice if there were something sweet at the budget meeting next week? People would probably like that?

You bring a batch, plus a little box with a few set aside especially for him. You pass it over to him in secret so that no one gets jealous, and he falls for you, hard.

He becomes your go-to person to test new recipes on.

Loves to hang out in the kitchen while you bake, chatting your ear off the whole time and stealing little tastes of batter and handfuls of chocolate chips.

Wants to help, but you always end up banishing him to a stool a safe distance away from whatever you're baking. It's not that he's a fuckup, but he gets nervous when he's outside of his comfort zone, and that's when you get chaos in the form of dropped eggs and tablespoons confused for teaspoons.

Asks questions about what you're doing and seems genuinely interested even if he doesn't really get the technical aspects.

Yes, of course he wants to lick the beaters. And the spatula. And the bowl. Yes, it does send your mind to filthy places every single time.

Prefers brownies and cookies just slightly underbaked and gooey, warm out of the oven. He's impatient and hates having to wait for anything to cool down.

He's definitely one of those people who make nigh-pornographic noises when they eat something delicious. Exclamations and expletives, moans, praise.

He has so much confidence in your abilities that it borders on delusion. This is a man who will see the most heinous challenge on GBBO, one that reduces the contestants to tears, and scoff, "Heh! You could do that, easy!"

He's careful not to take your baking for granted or make you feel unappreciated. He knows what it's like for people to constantly demand more and more, and he's not going to do that to you.

Realizing that sometimes you get a sugar craving when you don't feel up to making anything for yourself, he teaches himself a simple recipe for those occasions. Yes, it's just a chocolate mug cake made in the microwave, but he's so proud when he makes it for you. He always adds a generous dollop of whipped cream and some of whatever sprinkles he finds in your stash, usually Halloween ones.

If you find some expensive piece of equipment or fancy ingredient or novelty cake pan that you want but can't justify buying for yourself, he won't rest until you let him get it for you. Or, if you protest too much, it will just show up on your doorstep one day.

The first time you make a birthday cake for him--pulling out all the stops with luscious fillings, homemade buttercream, fancy piping tips--he tears up. Just stares at it for a moment in shock before blowing out the candles. Barely wants to cut it. Insists that you get good pictures of it before he does. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him, and it makes him feel so, so loved.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

[justporo]

Do you have any headcanons on what Astarion and Tav's home would look like? :)

You bet, I do! But I put some more thought into it over the day so may I present you with:

Domestic headcanons about what Tav's and Astarion's home in Baldur's Gate would look like

After your adventures and some looting of certain castles you go to buy a small but luxurious townhouse in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate - probably criminally under its actual worth but you two are just so convincing, aren't you?

Dark wooden floors, high windows (with thick brocade curtains of course), wrought-iron balcony and fence - it's giving gothic and dark academia but in a homey and warm way

Soft lighting everywhere, lots of candles and candelabra, a fire place of course and oil lanterns that make every room feel warm and cozy

Astarion has impeccable taste and enjoys a bit of decadence (of course) and really finds joy in picking out furniture and decorations - he's going for noble, rich, palace-y, posh vibes, but tasteful

Also Tav would stop him from going overboard - she's not used to all the pompous stuff and cares more about the pracitcality of it all; also she's definitely the one who brings in some plants and greenery; also some nice stuff for Scratch because I'm sure Tav would insist on being the one to keep him

When Tav says she'd rather likes it simple tho... "Simple, love? Everyone can have simple, but not just anyone can have beautiful!" "So... you are not denying that beautiful means more complicated?" "No, but isn't that also why you chose me after all? Because I'm intricately complicated and incredibly beautiful?" Can't argue with that logic

Tav's also focused on making it cozy though and especially creating comfy little corners where they can just lounge together: like a little alcove to sit and read or look out the window or some pillows on the wood floor so you can sit in front of the fire place

There's a chaise-longue somewhere in the house - maybe in the incredibly over-sized dressing room, so Astarion can lay on it and watch Tav dress

DEFINITELY NO MIRRORS - no need to remind Astarion of that particular part of his condition; also why would he need it if you can tell him how beautiful he is everyday?

There's also a piano (as we have learnt before *wink*) and lots of books and trinkets and artworks - Astarion likes all stuff having to do with arts

It might be messy, at least at the beginning, you're both not used to having and holding onto stuff, also Astarion's desperately trying to find himself - that comes with creative chaos

Is there even a need to mention the bed is huge? And also has very much cliché dark red silk sheets? But it's probably the piece of furniture where you spend the most of your nights, not only for mingeling but just sitting and laying there, reading, drawing, talking, teasing each other

Also at some point you'd probably get a joint portrait but you don't want it to be too stiff and regal rather wanting it to show how much joy you give each other

The kitchen is to spoil Tav: when Astarion finds out you enjoy cooking and are pretty skilled at it he gets you all the best equipment he can find - even though you don't know how to use half of it - yet

Oof, I could maybe keep going some more... Thanks for the message, it was fun to think about this. (Also I know I might be swinging between medieval and more victorian vibes but hush, it's a fictional world where everything is possible) Also I knew I wouldn't yet do requests - but really that was just me putting something out there I already thought about. And I'll do some requests soon!

[teddybeartoji]

mickey i need ur thoughts on jjk men (esp satoru) helping out and showing love for their partner with autism

like uuuuuuuu i was thinking abt toru keeping a pair of his sunglasses with him hust in case youre visually overwhelmed. ORRRR him teleporting you to a quieter space when he notices that theres too many complex sounds that are upsetting you.

ughhhhh like imagine one of them remembering that pressure is soothing for you and js puts their full body weight whenever you come back home from a bad day.

GUHHHH them keeping candles of your favorite scents and alwaya makes sure to keep your safe foods stocked up whenever you visit

OH NOW I'M REALLY KISSING YOU GRAY MY BELOVED!!! THIS IS SUCH A WONDERFUL LITTLE ASK WAHHH I GOT SO GIDDY

i agree with everything you said!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now i know that every single one of them would do anything and everything to help you out!! but i did pick some things out that really made me think of them!!! anyway hello my fellow autistic ppl this one is for you all i love you very very much<333

satoru 100% carries extra sunglasses with him and i think he'd actually carry his black blindfold aswell. obvs he's not gonna make you wear it as you're moving through public but he'd lead you to a quiet spot and then just let you have a moment. he's either sitting you down next to him or he's holding you against his chest, protecting you from every single ray of light that could possibly make it any worse for you. bc honestly... sunglasses are sometimes just not enough for me personally. i've had my fair share of times where i just have to cover my eyes with my hands bc it just hurts so much.

we all know that satoru is a big yapper but i know he needs his quiet time too. i think he would love to just Do Nothing with you in complete silence. maybe you're both just taking a nap together, maybe you're just laying in the sun out in the park. maybe you're resting your head on his lap, maybe he's resting his on yours. it's all just about gentle touches and looks.

he loves it when you ramble and he's literally your biggest hypeman!! he's ready to spend all of his fucking money on you and any fucking equipment you could ever need. you want a new game or a new console? they're both already waiting for you at home. you want to start drawing? he has already ordered a tablet for you to practise on. you want to get into photography? he's buying you a camera and three different lenses. he wants you to be happy and he wants you to be able to do everything you could ever possibly want. he's just the sweetest guy ever i am crying rn actually:((

he's the best little autism bf btw. bc he gets it. he understand. he knows. he knows all about the light sensitivity. he knows all about the difficulty of eating "normal" foods, always munching on candy and snacks bc that's just easier. he knows about the fidgeting, he knows about the innate need to have somebody lay on top of you. he knows about the rambling and the hyperfixations. he knows about the confusing social clues and the ridiculous differences of speaking tones. he knows about the eye-contact problems - whether you're someone, who struggles to keep it or you're someone, who can't tear your eyes from everybody else just like him - he understands! he knows about being straighforward and speaking exactly what's on your mind and then being scolded for it. he knows about Not Really Understanding personal space. he truly does understand and he's ready to do anything and everything to help you cope with Life.

toji is theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee best weighted blanket and i stand by that. he's so fucking huge and he's so fucking heavy - he's perfect. he's gonna tease you about it but just a little!! you tug him by his hand and he gladly takes his place on top of you bc let's be honest... he's gonna love it, too. he's protecting you! he's taking care of you in a way that doesn't need words! he's trying his best! and if this is what you need - he is going to do it!!!

also with the light and sound sensitivity - he'd gladly pull you into his chest and cover your eyes with his big ass palm. and it would feel soo comforting wtf. the weight of it and just the fact that it's him?? fuck, i know it'd be so good. or your ears. he's placing them on your ears, muffling the overwhelming sounds while cradling you and wahh:(( he'd make you feel so safe.

suguru and shoko and parallel play. it's amazing. they will read a book while you're gaming. or suguru's painting while you're reading. or shoko's having her morning smoke and coffee while you're doing your skincare (i'm sorry i just can't get out the beautiful picture of her sitting on the little windowsill of your bathroom, a cig inbetween her fingers and a cup of coffe in her hand. no words are being spoken - it's just the sound of the birds outside, the water running and her gulping down her little espresso. thank you for listening.)

or suguru's doing his little home workout routine as you're crocheting. or it's you and shoko just laying on your shared bed scrolling on your phones in silence. could literally be whatever. they're gonna glance at you every once in a while, they're gonna ask how you're doing, how you're feeling and then they're gonna give you a tender smile and a kiss on your cheek and continue on. i'm melting just thinking about it.

suguru is obviously also going to be there for you if you have sleeping problems. he understands them all too well and he's pulling out all the stops to help you fall asleep (and himself). he's gonna make the tea one night and you'll make it the next night. it's equal. maybe you're also going to take a lovely little bath together, you'll giggle exhaustedly as you both slur out very stupid jokes and after that you'll both climb under the covers and take turns in listening to each others heartbeats and (hopefully) fall asleep.

shoko and sarcasm. she definitely makes a lot of sarcastic jokes and comments and she'll be a bit confused at first when you just blurt out the good-old "i don't know whether you're joking or not". but i think she'd find it super cute. she'll still occasionally make the comments but she'll make sure to check in whether you got it or not. i think she would tease but she'd do it very lightly (she definitely cackles when satoru doesn't understand sarcasm though lmao but you're her baby and she doesn't want you to feel bad). and i think she would love if you made terrible sarcastic jokes. like she would laugh until there are tears prickling in her eyes and you'd still be like ????? i don't understand and then she'd laugh even more. she's so cute.

kento is always ready to cook for you. he understands how hard it can be, how overwhelming it can be. he doesn't mind it a bit. i truly think this would be good for the both of you! he loves to cook and it's such a relaxing thing for him, and it's even better now that he knows he can see you fill your cheeks with delight. he needs you to eat well and he will make sure you do!

i also think that he's so patient with you and he'd never ever make you feel like you have to speak with him. he buys little plushies that you can turn inside-out, a pink side and a blue side - indicating how you're doing on the Speaking department that day. and these tiny interactive pins and you can express whatever you're feeling without ever speaking a word. he never pressures you in any way, always just reward you with more reassurance and a kiss to your temple.

he's ALSO the best listener. like he never talks over you. never. not even on an accident???? it's a superpower i think. he let's you talk at your own pace and he just stares at you with very soft eyes:((

wait i also think that shoko, utahime and yuki would gladly speak for you. in a sense of if you have social anxiety or you stutter or anything like that, they'd easily take up the task of ordering for you! they literally have all of your orders remembered and everything.

[malusokay]

Pink Pilates Princess on a budget

Following a certain lifestyle can be expensive, especially when trying to make it as aesthetically pleasing as seen on Pinterest. Here is how to get The Pink Pilates Princess lifestyle on a budget. <3

Where to start

When shopping for athletic wear, stick to black bottoms and light pink tops; having a concept when shopping really helps to only buy things you really want and makes combining your pieces easier!

Go on daily walks, and listen to your favourite music or podcast to clear your mind. Try aiming for 10k steps daily!!

Follow a Balanced diet, I'm a big fan of the 80/20 rule! :)

You can find reasonably priced workout sets and equipment (yoga mats, weights etc.) on Amazon!

Don't be afraid to embrace femininity! <3

If you wear makeup, try keeping it light. Do your brows, a little concealer, set with powder, blush and bronzer, glossy lips and your preferred lash routine. <3

Look up yoga and pilates workouts on youtube. Focus on low-impact strengthening and improving your flexibility <3

Keep your room clean and organized. Clean out your closet regularly, and make sure your sheets are always nice and fresh.

Invest in some cute accessories to upgrade your outfits! Legwarmers, cute hair clips and bows and dainty jewellery.

Regularly clean your make-up brushes once a week!! Number 1 rule to clear skin.

Try Gua sha! I've been doing gua sha for a while now and absolutely love it <3

Try some new smoothie recipes!! Start adding veggies, or look up some green smoothie recipes to boost your metabolism.

Create a cosy and calm atmosphere by using fairy lights and candles. My favourite candle scent is Vanilla!

Start journaling. You can write about your day, goals, or anything that has been bothering you. I will upload a post about my favourite journaling prompts soon! :)

To really embody The Pink Pilates Princess aesthetic, try buying your things in white and pink.

Stay hydrated. You can also buy a cute water bottle to motivate yourself. You can also add lemon or fruits to make it more fun!

Learn how to make yourself healthy and nutritional meals, eating out is expensive, and cooking can be a lot of fun! (should I collection of my favourite recipes?)

Make skin/hair-care a priority. Taking care of yourself is so important, and you deserve it <3

Set yourself some smaller goals like learning how to do the splits, reading 10 pages a day or drinking a certain amount of water!

Have a proper morning/night routine

Morning routine:

Start your day with light stretching to wake up your body, a large glass of water and some positive affirmations to set the tone.

Plan your morning, so you have time for your skincare routine; use a body spray to add a light scent. My favourite is the vanilla one from Victoria's secret. <3

Make yourself a nice cup of coffee, and add vanilla syrup and cinnamon to make it special.

Eat breakfast; my go-to is oatmeal. You can really get creative with it by adding some nuts, berries, yoghurt or chocolate! <3

Journal a bit, write down your goals, and some manifestations.

Night routine:

Remove your make-up and do your skincare; if you have more time, you can do a facemask or take a relaxing bath. <3

I love going on evening walks; the fresh evening air really calms me. Make sure to be safe when going out tho! <3

Make yourself a delicious dinner; I've been really into buddha bowls! You can find inspiration and my favourite recipes on my Pinterest.

Do some yoga before going to bed, relax your body and calm down.

Plan your next day to reduce stress.

Don't go to bed late; try getting your 8 hours of beauty sleep!

Turn of your phone 1 hour before sleeping and read before falling asleep <3

Fashion

Try keeping the colours Pink, white, grey and black. Having a set colour pallet makes putting together outfits a lot easier since everything matches! <3

Cute loungewear sets

Workout sets

leggings

comfy sweaters

light knit

Cute tote bags

legwarmers

sneakers

Tennis skirts

Zip-ups

Flared leggings

Matching PJ sets

As always, please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[seat-safety-switch]

I love my fireworks, say all my neighbours as they cram a flimsy plastic tube full of low-yield explosives. Surely everyone in my community will also appreciate them. If not, they are some kind of Grumpy Gus and are not invited to the block party cookout. Friends, I can tell you this right now: I am not going to that barbecue.

As you might have imagined, the residents of my area of the world like to shoot off a bunch of Roman candles when they feel like it. Sure, fireworks are fun and all, but I feel like if you're burning three or four hundred dollars worth of illegal noise-and-light generators every couple of weeks, you might as well just take up smoking again.

At first, it was a lot of fun. Very festive. It helped the community spirit, even if all the dogs were constantly terrified and kept trying to chew through a fence to escape. Ol' Ray down the block lost a finger trying to grab onto what he called a "Winky Sprinkler," though, and then everything changed.

Once there was a scent of blood in the air, it became a competition. Ray needed to "make it worth" his sacrifice, so he started amping up his production. Bigger shows. Coordinated by electronics. More frequently. This drew the ire of another rich asshole (Bob Winsome, who used to own the Ford dealership) with poor impulse disorder, and soon the two of them were getting up to a night-time artillery show that the police were not equipped to stop, mostly because they were at the doughnut store or trying to knock over a casino for some quick cash in the retirement fund at the time.

Nearly every night became a terror of pop-pop-pop. although I am very good at ignoring troublesome noises, those noises are usually generated by my own car while I'm driving them. Not constantly happening while I'm trying to focus on my usual problems: things like "why is this bolt stripped," and "where did this pile of wires I just cut through go to?"

As the Constitution says, though: "fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." After one particularly rough night of having exploding munitions going off directly over my head while I was trying to find the origin of some faint valve clatter, I decided to respond in kind. A friend of mine, who will be called Millie Teri for reasons that are about to become clear, loaned me a couple pieces from her private collection. I had myself a patriotic parade that night. Courtesy, of course, of some army bases didn't really pay too close attention to what they listed on eBay. That's what they call "taxpayer value," even if I did have to technically buy the low-shrapnel M107 flash shells twice.

I had expected to draw a truce after demonstrating my superior firepower, much like how French tourists can shut down any discussion of cheese. After bombarding both rich pricks' homes, however, it soon became apparent that the dickheads blamed each other for the massive destruction wrought on their properties, and refused to believe that a belligerent third party could have done such a thing to them just for "several months of sleepless nights courtesy of constant 120dB outside noise."

After the mutually-assured destruction finished, though, I never saw or heard another fireworks display from Ol' Ray or Bob Winsome. If they ever find an identifiable chunk of either of their bodies, we'll probably have a pretty cool tribute at the funeral using up whatever unexploded fireworks they have still left in the scorched remnants of their family homes.

[accio-victuuri]

their ordinary life. 🏠

i am referencing this post which was allegedly shared in 2021. i like how it’s written and the cpn clues inserted, then making a whole story out of it. a reason why most of us love lrg and other rumor anecdotes is because it’s simple and shows what their day to day life is like. tho they are celebrities with extraordinarily busy lives, the thought of them just being zz and bobo is comforting and sweet. it may be confusing cause there are parts where they are both referenced as they. and then it will switch to “i” as if in the person’s first person pov.

all of this is fake & fanfiction…

they should have a cat and a dog. everyone knows the cat's name is Tao, the dog’s name also matches the cat very well, it’s called Lizi. it’s a puppy ZZ bought it on impulse, but in the end I had to give it to my mother in Chongqing to deal with the aftermath. they have a home in Beijing, with a room full of helmets and musical instruments. there is also a room equipped with a projector, with warm and artistic decoration. when the two people are tired, they can lie here and watch movies together. there is also a big LCD TV, two people playing games to decide the outcome and doing housework.

the kitchen should be well-equipped, but the storage of materials is not alot, both of them are busy and have little time to cook, but there should be someone that makes trouble while the other person is cooking, and the other person will teach. when that person was making hand cakes, he had a headache several times and wanted to curse.

the room they sleep in, well, the bedding must be of high quality, it must be very comfortable and considerate for two people who both have the habit of sleeping naked. someone should install a night light in the toilet so that people who are afraid of the dark can get up in the middle of the night. there will be lights as soon as the toilet is near. there should be a lot of things on the bedside, eye drops, stomach-protecting tablets, Ryukakusan, cough cough... In short, both of them takes good care of your body! there will be a light fragrance in the room. they are all people who love cleanliness, maybe it’s also due to the scented candles.

there is a huge closet, which could have been used as a styling area in the beginning. one will often buy several pieces at a time and wrap them up. the other will also complain that one person loves shopping so much that he is not frugal and knows how to organize his clothes regularly. it was painful to pick out an old model to wear, and taught another person: "See, this is okay. As for clothes, save money and don’t buy so much. You still have a mortgage. ” another smiled and didn’t say anything. clothes that smell like them over time are familiar and reassuring, as if they are by each other’s side. In this way, they give each other company. Sometimes the trip is too urgent and I don’t pay much attention. both people will pack the wrong clothes into their suitcases. there should also be a small gym, where two actors and teachers can work hard. One person is envious of another's eight-pack abs, and the other possesses someone's waist (don't ask me why I know it's possible because I am a barbell. )

both of them have been doing more and more endorsements, and they have a lot of products at home. when the two brothers are in a good mood, they take one out and play with it, jokingly calling it "opening a blind box." most of the time, they kept sending them to my family, and the family group was noisy.

the two of them still can't stay at home most of the time and are always on the road. yes, headphones are a common item. why? because they are used for making phone calls and watching videos and to chat online. I took out my mobile phone to complain after getting off work. i quickly called to tell him that I miss you. people’s true emotions finally have a safe and secure place. how good is this, just wanting someone who can always listen to me in my life. you act coquettishly. you can complain and cry.

i also surfed the Internet, but I just browsed casually, after all, it was all the same rainbow fart, I want to take some time to listen to that person blowing it to me. sometimes it’s annoying to see fans quarreling. i used my account number to tell them to stop arguing, but it didn’t work. just switch to my other account and fight bravely with heizi ( antis ) and lose. until the account was suspended and blocked, then I took screenshots and felt aggrieved. he said, "Baby, look at me, I've lost another number by helping you.". The other person was amused, and he was no longer troubled by the remarks.

the other side is also keen on surfing and secretly saves a lot of emoticons, all of which are like pigs. regarding this, after I sent it, I laughed so hard that I hit the table and couldn’t stop having fun. hey, of course you can hear the voice of someone screaming on the phone: "Why does it have to be a pig?" "I'm a leopard! Not a pig! You What a stinky rabbit!”

they will take care of eating, taking medicine, drinking water, and taking care of each other when they are sick. they will take good care of each other and care for each other. if you are disobedient, it will be known immediately, and you will be punished, and then you will obey because I want to live a long with the other person. if possible, I hope it will be the same in my next life.

he will also get jealous, lose his temper and act awkward. Alas, as an actor, he is still in the entertainment industry. what can I do? Buy gifts, buy food, make phone calls. if you want to talk, send WeChat, and send some updates and stuck points that fans can’t understand.

In the end, I still couldn't coax him, so I could only study how to fight authentically and run to see the other party. the time is very short, and you may only be able to stay in the car, room, or corner. i left after an hour or two, my temper was gone, and I kept looking at the other person. laugh, give a hug, hold hands for a walk, kiss, and talk for a long time. if it's been a long time, your eyes will inevitably turn red when you separate.

“Every time it’s so short, it’s hard to be separated, and I won’t be able to come next time.

“But I miss you.

"...I know, I'll come see you next time."

knowing that there will be an event for two people on the same stage will make them excited for a long time, and they will fall in love at public expense. love, doesn’t it feel good?

no matter what, they won’t understand the meaning of it anyway. meet backstage, eat a meal together, take ugly photos of each other while doing makeup, and fight. let’s sit together and look at our phones and chat about the current situation. the two people at the back looked right at each other when Fang doesn't speak, the staff will consciously go out and leave them alone.

think hard. I miss you even when I walk. I miss you when I sit. kiss the necklace that you bought for me, look at the blue sky and white clouds, draw a picture, then take the archeology test, and look at the other party’s dark history, snap screenshots and make emoticons and throw them over. it’s the happiness that only artists can have when they fall in love, don’t you understand~

regarding the public, the feeling of being watched by millions of people cheering and blessing that summer it’s really good. surrounded by love from all over the world, you will feel that there is nothing better than our happy couple. maybe, one day, wait for the rainbow to come. On that day, I am Lao Wang and he was Lao Xiao. We walked in front of everyone. before, he drew a story about us, told by me since I was 21 years old.

[fatkish]

For my request, based on MHA and Disney's Aladdin, can you write a oneshot featuring Aizawa and a male reader with bondage and gags please? In the story, after being inspired by the bondage scene from Aladdin, the reader and Aizawa go to a love hotel to try it out. Aizawa would be the one who'd have his hands and barefeet shackled, his mouth cloth gagged, and would even wear an Aladdin prince costume as part of the set up. You can decide on the intimate acts as long as Aizawa is kept tied up and gagged the whole time. What do you think?

Aizawa x Male Reader NSFW: Pretty Boy

After watching the new Aladdin movie during one of their dates, (y/n) begged Aizawa to let him be the dominant one and have an Aladdin inspired sexual experience. (Y/n) managed to convince and persuade Aizawa into letting (y/n) book a room at a love hotel and they would have their fun there once (y/n) collected all the necessary toys and equipment. He told Aizawa the date they agreed on and told Aizawa to wear a butt plug on the way there so that he’d be somewhat prepared.

 The next few days passed as (y/n) made sure to prepare everything, he bought a vibrating cock ring for Aizawa to wear as well as a sexy male belly dancer costume. Then he made a special order for a gag veil to be made for Aizawa to wear. Then (y/n) was able to buy some incense and candles. After buying all the stuff he ordered and putting it together, he informed Aizawa that the room was ready for their arrival at the hotel.

When (y/n) got to the hotel, he paid for a room and make sure to set the mood with lighting, turning the lights of and lighting the candles and incense. (Y/n) then pulled out a Bluetooth speaker and pulled out his phone to play some Arabian music. The room was painted with black walls and had a large four poster bed with red silk sheets. (Y/n) grabbed a towel and laid it down on the bed. As the incense and candles burned, the scents of cinnamon, spiced chai tea, sage and bergamot filled the room.

While Aizawa changed in the bathroom, (y/n) prepared and laid out all the toys and equipment. When Aizawa exited the bathroom, wearing the costume and the gag, (y/n) wolf whistled in appreciation. As Aizawa walked over to (y/n), (y/n) made sure to tie his hands up. (Y/n) then used his foot to spread Aizawa’s ankles and secure a spreader bar to them. After that (y/n) made Aizawa bend over the bed, brushing the cloth skirt aside as he pulled out the plug that Aizawa wore.

After pulling out the plug, (y/n) applied lube to his fingers and pushed them deep into Aizawa’s ass, spreading and scissoring his hole as he fingered Aizawa. (Y/n) then grabbed the vibrating cock ring and slipped it on Aizawa’s cock. Next, (y/n) grabbed the egg vibrator and spread Aizawa’s cheeks, pushing it in and up against Aizawa’s prostate. (Y/n) turned both toys on causing Aizawa to choke and make muffled sounds of surprise. (Y/n) then flipped Aizawa onto his back and began to play with Aizawa’s nipples, pinching and pulling on them while he began to fist Aizawa’s cock.

(Y/n) then turned up the vibrations and began sucking on Aizawa’s nipples. Swirling his tongue around and nipping them.

“Mrph erm” Aizawa groaned as he was panting into the gag as (y/n) gave Aizawa’s cock a firm squeeze. Aizawa began to groan softly and seized as he came.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Do you have it in you to give me a few more orgasms?” (y/n) asked as he looked down at Aizawa.

“Mrh hm”

“Good boy”

(Y/n) the grabbed the bottle of lube and poured a bit onto his fingers. He then reached behind him and began to slowly finger himself. He grabbed the vibrator’s remotes and turned the vibrations up higher. Aizawa’s thighs tensed as his back arched in ecstasy. (Y/n) then pulled his fingers out as he poured some lube onto Aizawa’s cock.

“I hope you’re ready, cause I’m going to ride this pretty dick of yours.” You said as he hovered over and carefully sat down on Aizawa’s cock. Aizawa closed his eyes and breathed deeply as (y/n) sunk down on his dick. Once fully seated, (y/n) clenched his inner muscles making Aizawa give a groan. (Y/n) started to bounce slowly, as he looked Aizawa in the eyes. (Y/n) then grabbed the cock ring’s remote and turned it all the way up.

“Erm! Urhmm, ermph rrm hrm” Aizawa cried into the gag, as his thighs tensed. (Y/n) began to speed up him bouncing as Aizawa tried to thrust up into (y/n).

“Are you close?”

“Mmhmm”

(y/n) then turned the egg vibrator up to the max setting causing Aizawa to scream into his gag as he came while (y/n) slammed his hips down and ground down onto Aizawa.

“Do you think, you can give me one more?” (Y/n) looked down at Aizawa as he nodded after taking a moment. (Y/n) then got off of Aizawa and turned him over. (Y/n) then pulled the egg vibrator out, and attached the vibrating nipple clamps to Aizawa. (Y/n) then bent Aizawa over as he grabbed the bottle of lube and poured some out onto Aizawa’s anus. After that, (y/n) pushed three fingers into Aizawa’s ass. (Y/n) then curled his fingers, digging them into Aizawa’s prostate causing him to thrust his hips. After pulling out his fingers, (y/n) then applied lube to his own dick.

“Last one pretty boy, you ready?”

“Mrph” Aizawa nodded as he looked back at (y/n).

(Y/n) then slowly pushed in, sink each inch in slowly. But before he fully sheathed himself inside Aizawa, he slowly pulled back out till his head was the only part left. (Y/n) the grabbed Aizawa’s hips and pulled him back onto his cock.

“Erm!”

(Y/n) began to thrust into Aizawa at a moderate pace. Reaching down between Aizawa’s thighs to give his balls some attention. As (y/n) thrusted, he palmed at Aizawa’s balls, gently squeezing and rolling them in his hand. After a moment (y/n) increased his pace, speeding up and pushed Aizawa down face first into the bed.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good squeezing me like this. You’re so tight and hot, I don’t think I can last long.”

“Ersh erm mer ert!”

Aizawa shouted into his gag as (y/n) pounded into him, hitting his prostate with every single thrust due to the new angle. After a few more minutes, (y/n) came with a shout, hunching over Aizawa’s back and gripping his hips. Aizawa then came a final time as his spend shot out onto the towel beneath him.

After a few moments, (y/n) turned the toys off and removed them. He then released Aizawa’s restraints and let him remove the spreader bar. After cleaning and putting the toys and equipment away, (y/n) came over to Aizawa with a damp warm towel and cleaned him up. (Y/n) then picked up the towel off the bed and set it aside in the bathroom.

“Thank you so much for indulging me on this baby.” (Y/n) whispered into Aizawa’s ear as he gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Next time, I’m tying you up and edging you. I’m going to make you cum and milk your prostate, see how you like it” Aizawa threatened as he closed his eyes and relaxed his sore body.

“Sounds like fun, rest now love, I booked the room for the whole day and night so you can sleep and I’ll be back with food when you wake up”

(Sorry this took so long @princeasimdiya12, I haven’t finished the drawing yet so I’ll add it once I’ve finished it. I hope you enjoyed this, it’s kinda my first time writing something like this so I hope it’s good)

[centralcoastcandle]

From Hobby to Business: Starting Your Candle-Making Venture with Central Coast Candle Supplies

Candle-making is an age-old craft that has evolved from a simple hobby into a thriving business for many passionate individuals. You can turn your love for candle-making into a profitable venture with the right tools, materials, and guidance in Australia. Central Coast Candle Supplies, a trusted name in the industry, offers various buying candle making equipment for you to start your entrepreneurial journey.

The Candle-Making Craze

A Hobby Turned Business

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In recent years, there has been a surge in the demand for unique, handcrafted candles. Customers are drawn to the authenticity and personalized touch that artisanal candle makers bring to their creations. This presents a significant opportunity for budding entrepreneurs to tap into a growing market.

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Investing in Quality Equipment

One of the critical factors in transitioning from a hobbyist to a business owner is investing in the right equipment. Central Coast Candle Supplies in Australia offers a wide selection of candle-making equipment for sale, including:

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Creating Unique Products

Developing a unique product line is essential to stand out in the market. Experiment with different fragrances, colours, and candle shapes. Central Coast Candle Supplies offers many options to help you craft distinctive candles that appeal to your target audience.

Building an Online Presence

In today's digital age, an online existence is crucial for reaching a broader audience. Establish a professional website or an online store to showcase your products and make them available to customers worldwide. Utilize social media to reach out to possible customers and build brand awareness.

Marketing & Branding

Compelling marketing and branding are crucial for the success of your candle-making business. Create a captivating brand identity, including a memorable logo and packaging. Discover various marketing strategies, such as social media advertising, content marketing, and collaborating with influencers in the home and lifestyle niche.

Customer Engagement and Feedback

Interacting with your customers is critical to understanding their preferences and improving your products. Encourage feedback and be responsive to inquiries and comments. Building a loyal customer base can significantly contribute to the growth of your business.

Conclusion: Turning your candle-making hobby into a business is an exciting and rewarding journey. Central Coast Candle Supplies offers the equipment and materials to kickstart your venture confidently. Their commitment to quality, expertise, and support will be invaluable assets for becoming a successful candle-making entrepreneur. Whether you want to create unique candles as a side hustle or establish a thriving business, Central Coast Candle Supplies is your partner in this aromatic and creative journey.

[girlactionfigure]

🚨 G7 WARNED OF IMMINENT IRANIAN ATTACK ON ISRAEL WITHIN 24 HOURS 🚨

‼️The G7 countries have informed that Iran could mount a full-scale attack on Israel within 24 hours.

‼️General Michael Kurilla, Commander of U.S. Central Command, is expected to arrive in Israel on Monday to review plans and coordinate forces in the Middle East.

‼️U.S. President Joe Biden will convene his national security team in the situation room on Monday at 2:15 PM ET (9:15 PM Israel time) to discuss developments in the region.

‼️In a special report by Army Radio, Efi Triger noted that the IDF has recently deployed several units from the Home Front Command and the Jordan Lions Battalion to reinforce the defense of the Seam Line communities in the Sharon area. This action follows an urgent warning after recent targeted killings, indicating plans to carry out infiltration attacks on these communities, orchestrated by Iran and Hamas.

The Shin Bet received intelligence that terrorists from the Tulkarm area intended to infiltrate settlements in the Sharon Seam Line area. Consequently, soldiers have been stationed within these settlements to provide an immediate response to any incidents, given the proximity to Palestinian territories.

These units are tasked with serving as the last line of defense within the settlements, should all other security measures fail, learning from the events of October 7th. It became evident on the night between Friday and Saturday that there were genuine threats, as a terrorist cell from Tulkarm, eliminated on Saturday morning, was planning an infiltration attack in Israel.

Security officials told Army Radio that Iran and Hamas are attempting to divert Israeli attention to Judea and Samaria to provoke an intifada, hoping this will prevent an Israeli attack in Lebanon. Judea and Samaria risk becoming the main theater of war once again.

🔅EMERGENCY PREP - THE BASICS

via ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime

Things are scary, “well what am I supposed to do?”

Basic preparation IN ISRAEL:

.. Drinking water.  Buy some bottled water, 9 liters per adult (less for children).

.. Washing / flushing water.  Have a few buckets or fill a bunch of used water bottles, to wash or flush with - fill buckets when emergency starts, BUT not if you have small children who can drown in an open bucket.

.. Medicine.  If you take chronic medicine (every day), get the 3 month supply from your Kupah.

.. Money.  Have cash on hand in case ATM’s and credit cards aren’t working.

.. Food.  Canned, dry, etc, supplies on hand for a week per person.  Baby food? Formula? Special nutrition? Pet food?

.. Light.  Flash lights, candles. 

.. Communications.  Have a power-bank or two for your cell phone.  And maybe a radio (buy at hardware stores).

.. Shelter.  Make sure it is ready.

More here -> Supplies and Equipment for Emergencies.  https://www.oref.org.il/12490-15903-en/pakar.aspx

❗️EMERGENCY PLANNING

Links work in Israel.

.. Preparing your home for an emergency.  https://www.oref.org.il/12490-15902-en/Pakar.aspx

.. Help Prep your Neighborhood and Family Elderly.  https://www.oref.org.il/12550-20999-en/pakar.aspx

.. Know the Emergency numbers:

Police 100 emergency, 110 non-urgent situation

Ambulance 101

Medics 1221

Fire 102

Electric Company 103

Home Front Command 104

City Hotline 106

Senior Citizen Hotline *8840

Social Services Hotline 118

Cyber (hack) Hotline 119

🔸 MENTAL HEALTH HOTLINES, in case you are freaking out:

.. in English : Tikva Helpline by KeepOlim, call if you are struggling!  074-775-1433.

.. in Hebrew : Eran Emotional Support Line - 1201 or chat via eran.org.il

...

[familyvideostevie]

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 , 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au

part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] 18+ | part 4 [4.7k] | au masterlist

Steve doesn't show up at the farmer's market the next day. Every time you close your eyes you can feel his lips on yours, warm and soft and it makes you feel flushed in the morning chill. The same chill that creeps into your bones with every hour that Steve doesn't show up. You keep peeking over at the Sara's tent but the market is so busy you can't go over and see for yourself. And you can't help it -- you wonder if he's embarrassed about your kiss. You wonder if he regrets it, if he's avoiding you because of it.

But you want to give Steve the benefit of the doubt. So you do. Something must be wrong.

It's not until you're packed up and ready to go that you see Robin and jog over to her, calling her name. She beams at you and you can't help but return it, even though your chest is tight with worry.

"Don't I look great for being extremely hungover right now?" she says, pulling you in for a quick hug. She's bundled in a scarf and a Sara's sweatshirt and her cheeks are pink.

"You always look great, Robin," you tell her honestly. "And you only had like, two beers!"

"We were drunk when you got there," she grimaces. "Jonathan had a flask." You bounce on your heels a little and look around the stand just in case you missed Steve somehow. "But I know you didn't come over here to say hi to me," she says smugly.

You scoff. "Robin, don't be silly, I --"

"Want to know where Steve is? Yeah, me too!" she says. "But I asked El and she said that Hop said that Steve is sick today."

"Sick?" you frown. "But he was fine last night." Robin's eyebrows shoot up and she purses her lips at you.

"Oh, it sure seemed like he was fine to me. But you'd know better." You roll your eyes fight the urge to put your face in your hands. "I was going to go check on him after work," she continues, "but maybe you want to go instead? I'm sure he'd be happy to see you." The tease hasn't totally left her voice but you can tell she's being honest.

"Oh," you say. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." You give her a quick hug and thank her before you head back to your truck and drive to the store. What do you buy a sick boy who you kissed last night? You don't even know what Steve likes, if he's a cough drop or syrup guy, if he prefers lemon to chamomile tea, if he even likes tea. The vast landscape of things you want to learn about him stretches out in front of you and it makes you equal parts nervous and excited.

You buy a few of everything.

The truck Robin was driving is already parked and empty when you get to the farm, but she's nowhere to be seen. Your paper bag of purchases crinkles in your hand as you head into the farm store before you can change your mind.

"You," Hopper says from his place behind the counter. He's reading a different paperback than when you last saw him but the expression on his face is the same. "Got more candles for me?" He nods at your paper bag.

You fight the urge to look at your feet. "Uh, no. Sir." His eyebrows rise and he sucks on his teeth, waiting for you to continue. "Is uh, Steve here?"

"You only ever come around lookin for that boy?" he mutters then sighs. "He's sick today." Hopper appraises you and you think maybe you see some fondness.

"I heard," you tell him. "I brought him some stuff."

"Sure he'll love that," he says. "He lives in a loft above the blue barn, if you wanna see him." He goes back to his paperback and you feel dismissed.

"Uh, thanks?" He grunts at you and you wander out onto the property. Will Steve actually be glad to see you? Kissing you is one thing, but having you show up where he lives when he's sick is something totally different. Something much more intense. Something that will surely tell him how much you like him.

The blue barn is a quick walk from the farm store and it's nothing like any barn you've seen before. The main doors are open into a large and tidy open area of equipment. The a-frame of the interior is exposed up to where there's a clear second floor and an iron spiral staircase leading to it. It creaks as you carefully take it up to the door to what seems to be the loft.

"Steve?" You knock. "Steve, it's--"

The door opens and you startle backwards but Steve's hand darts out to grab your arm. "It's you," he says. "Hey, honey." Well, that's what it sounds like, anyway. His voice is gravely and his nose is clearly stopped up, muddling his words. His hair is a riot and he's wearing...glasses?

"Can I come in?" you ask. "I brought you some stuff." He blinks owlishly behind his wire frames.

"I'm sick," he says, a little pathetically. You roll your eyes and slide past him into his loft, his hand releasing you as you go.

You put the paper bag down on his kitchen counter and glance around the space. It's the other side of the a-frame, though it looks to be properly insulated and has a few large windows on the other side of the barn. It's all one room -- his bed hidden on the other side of some bookshelves and a couch. It's a little messy and there's a pot simmering on the stove. There's a round breakfast table taking up most of the small kitchen. It looks much more lived in than your room at Bob's does.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks. "I woke up sick and only just got up and moving and I was gonna call to see if you --" He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. He's blushing. "If you felt sick, too. Since we kissed last night." Tension you didn't know you were holding bleeds from the set of your shoulders at his mention of it.

"No need to worry about me," you mutter, unloading your bag. His socked feet appear next to your sneakers and you look up. Your stomach clenches at his closeness. His eyes are a little puffy and his nose is red. He takes the cough drops you're holding from you and places them on the table before lacing your fingers together.

"Don't get me wrong," he says softly. "I enjoyed swapping spit last night." You huff a laugh. "I just would hate for our first kiss to actually make you sick. Though it would probably make sense for us, wouldn't it?" That sends you into real laughter which Steve echoes until he breaks off into a coughing fit.

"Oh, Steve," you sigh. "I got you some stuff that should help."

"Yeah, I can see that," he says, voice rough. "I'm taking notes for if I have to take care of you. Which I totally would, this being my fault and all." Fondness clogs your throat and you move to the stove.

"Soup?" He nods. "Sit down, Steve. Where are your bowls?" You rummage around his small kitchen and find one for him, stirring what looks like chicken noodle as he obeys.

"You don't need to take care of me --"

"I want to take care of you, Steve," you interrupt. "You look after everyone else all the time, even people you don't really know. And I think it's alright for you to just chill out for a second, okay?" You glance at him and he looks properly chastised and even a little shocked. "Though if I do get sick because we kissed, I'd say it was worth it," you add, quieter. He smiles big, his eyes creasing at the corners behind his glasses, and you find that you can't look away.

You've always wondered how people do this -- kiss someone and continue to look at them the same. Because you've never been able to. How can you now that you know what his lips taste like, how the heat of his breath feels on your skin? It makes you feel warm all over to remember it. You have to stop yourself from leaning in right there in his kitchen.

You spoon the soup into a bowl and bring it to him, sitting across from him at the small table.

"Worth it, huh?" he says, blowing on it. "Good to know. Cause I want to do it again." You dig your fingers into your thighs to keep from touching him as he voices your own thoughts but it's a battle you lose, instead lifting your hand to gently feel his forehead, a half-hearted gesture to suggest he's got a fever. He bats you away, grabbing your hand in his own. "No, don't go trying to convince me this is a fever dream. I like you." He sighs, lips curling into a shy smile, something you didn't think he was capable of. "I really like you. I have this whole time."

"Steve--" you try to interrupt him but he brings your palm to his face and plants a gentle kiss there, stealing your words and your breath and maybe your heart.

"I know you're figuring your stuff out in Hawkins and so am I, but I just can't stop thinking about you. If you didn't know that already."

You blink owlishly at his tenderness. You've known him for less than two months but he's already figured out how to soothe the ache in your chest and you don't know how you're going to handle it. Can you handle someone wanting you? Someone with expectations and needs and desires? Someone so wonderful, so complicated and real and solid like Steve?

"I like you, too," you say. He squeezes your hand. "I think about you all the time." He laughs then, a bright, joyful sound before he lets you go to cover the ensuing coughing fit.

"Sorry," he says into his fist. "I'm not fun right now." He eats some more of the soup once he settles and you decide that he needs rest more than anything.

You get up from the table and he makes a noise that sounds like a whine. "Once you feel better, let me know," you say, aiming for casual. "Maybe we can...hang out some more."

"Yeah," he says quickly. "Yes, I'll call you. And thanks for the stuff," he adds. Before you can change your mind, you move into his space and bend down to kiss his forehead. It's somehow more intimate than his tongue in your mouth, softer than his hands on you. It's a kiss that betrays the depth of your tenderness, how much you care for him. It hints at the possibility of what this thing between you could become. Which he hasn't brought up again, still seemingly content to let you call the shots. But how long will that be enough?

"Bye, Steve," you say softly, leaving him a little shell-shocked at the table, glasses askew and cheeks flaming.

_____

The image of Steve soft and awed at your departure sticks in your mind for the next few days. You wonder over and over if you should pick up the phone and call the farm to see how he is, if you should just drive over and bring him more soup. But a small voice reminds you that this is new and probably not permanent. There's no way this could last, right? It's just some fun, a chance for you to relax a little, to forget that you're meant to be figuring out what's next. To forget that the market ends in a month and you have no idea where you'll end up.

He calls you on Tuesday morning. Bob is out with the hives and the landline rings as you're munching on some toast.

"New-Bee farm," you say, customer service voice bright and cheery. "This is --"

"Hey, honey," Steve says over the line. He sounds much better and you tell him so, the nickname warming you down to your toes. "I'm a new man!"

"And how can I help this new man?" you ask, twirling the chord around your finger.

You can hear the deep breath he takes, almost feel it warm on the shell of your ear. "I seem to recall someone saying she wanted to hang out. And Hop gave me an extra day off. But I know you're probably busy so if you can't it's totally fine --"

"Steve," you interrupt. "I'm not busy. What do you want to do?"

"I have some ideas," he says. "I'll pick you up in 20." And true to his word, the Sara's truck pulls up right on time. It's properly cold, your breath fogging in font of you as you descend the farmhouse steps in your layers, hat and gloves tucked into the pocket of your overcoat. Steve is similarly bundled, a vest tossed over a thick sweatshirt, his own hat and gloves on the dash of the truck when you get in. His nose is a little red but otherwise he looks healthy and very pleased to see you.

"Hi," you say, rubbing your hands together. Steve angles the vents towards you -- a gesture that reminds you of the rainstorm you were caught in -- and smiles.

"You ready for a tour of Hawkins, Harrington style?" He doesn't wait for you to answer, instead hooking his arm around your headrest to back out onto the road. You know it's impossible, but you swear you can feel the heat of him on the back of your neck, his fingers resting gently on the collar of your coat for just a moment.

"I've lived here for like, two months. I think it's a little late for a tour." He pulls his arm back and you suck on your teeth to keep from doing something embarrassing like whining.

"Never too late," he scoffs. "Plus, I don't think you go out much, bee girl. Robin says she sees you at the library and in town sometimes, but I think you're missing all the good stuff." You scoff in mock offense, even though you know he's right. You haven't really explored Hawkins beyond your normal routine, beyond the places Steve has led you. He switches on the tape deck, volume low, and you think you recognize The Eagles as he whistles along.

Hawkins really is beautiful this time of year. You haven't really taken the time to notice the way the leaves have changed from the greens you saw at the end of September to rich oranges and reds, yellows and browns. Driving down these roads feels like being in a colorful tunnel, the air crisp and clean and cleansing, somehow. As the world around you decays in such a magnificent way, you feel yourself come alive under the gaze of the boy next to you.

"Eyes on the road," you mutter. He laughs, but a glance at him betrays his blush at being caught. He doesn't apologize, and you take the opportunity to stare at him. "What's the first stop?" you ask. He chews on his answer and it makes his jaw move in a way that forces you to swallow a lump in your throat. God, he really is so pretty.

"Gonna take you through some neighborhoods before we head into town. Show you the streets that raised all the punks you've met." Winding roads lined with trees turn to residential sidewalks, houses of all kinds appearing out of nowhere. Hardly anyone is out on a fall Tuesday morning, most residents at school or work already. It's a town that feels lived in, feels homey. Steve points out various family homes as you go, from the Wheeler’s to the Byers' and the other kids you've met. All relatively close, close enough that you can tell they've all been friends for years.

"And that one was mine," he says, pointing to a large home set back from the street, a little further from everyone else. "But my parents moved out a few years ago. Looks nicer now. The family must take care of it." His voice isn't cold so much as void of emotion. This is part of Steve's story, you realize. And he's showing it to you.

"Do you miss it?" You don't ask if he misses them. That feels like a misstep. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, chews his bottom lip. You want to smooth away the crease between his brows.

"Not really," he tells you. "They weren't around much, and I tried to be with other people as I got older. With friends, or those punk kids. And at the farm. So moving there felt natural." It doesn't sound like he's lost in what he tells you, more like he's reciting a rap sheet. This part of his life is over and behind him, and he doesn't concern himself with it. But it makes your heart hurt for the boy he was, the boy who seems to have been alone so much. You want to touch him, and you think about doing it, but then he takes you out of the neighborhood and smiles ruefully.

"My lame backstory of childhood neglect isn't a part of the tour," he says. "I swear it's going to get exciting."

"I want to know everything about you," you blurt out, the words hanging in the air between you before you can shove them back down. Steve doesn't say anything, but he does reach over and grab your hand where it rests on your thigh, threading your fingers together on top of your jeans.

"You just bought yourself a trip to Hawkins High." He winks at you and you feel something in your chest loosen.

That's how the next few hours go -- lots of driving around, Steve slowing or pulling into parking spaces to tell you about whatever you're looking at. The Arcade where he spent many night playing babysitter to the kids. Family Video, where he and Robin worked the last few years of high school. The General Store Bob used to run, the empty storefront next to it now home to Byers Flowers. He takes you past the carcass of the mall that never fully went up, a monstrosity of a building that gives you the shivers. He points out restaurants you should try, little shops that might have things you like. He peppers in his story throughout and you feel you heart growing too big for your chest.

Steve's hand never leaves yours. And then you pull up to Hawkins High. The parking lot is full -- it's a school day, after all. He idles at the curb.

"And here's where I was an asshole for a long time," he says. "Which you know about already." He his fingers twitch against yours but you don't pull them away. "I rode the high of teenage popularity until I uh, had a bad breakup and did something stupid and got community service at Sara's."

"Bad breakup?" you ask, eyebrows high.

"With Nancy, if you can believe it." You hardly can, thinking about how cozy she was with Jonathan. "We're all friends now, obviously. But my friends back then were shitheads and tried to go after her for it.  But in a weird way it's one of the best things that ever happened to me. I met Robin at Sara's that summer, and she's my best friend. Eddie, too, through the farmer's market. And those kids wormed their way in somehow."

"And look at you now," you say.

"Look at me now! Living in a barn loft and holding hands with a pretty girl." Your face feels warm and you want to kiss him so badly but you don't make a move. He pulls away from the high school and heads back towards the farm part of town.

"I know this wasn't super thrilling or anything, but you really do have to try Enzo's. And we should go for pizza at that other place I showed you --"

"Thank you for telling me all of this, Steve," you interrupt him. "I like seeing the town but I like learning about you, too." He flushes and his thumb taps on the steering wheel.

"No problem," he says. "I mean, it's whatever. Wait, no, I mean, it's not whatever. I just--" he sighs. "Thank you for listening, I guess?" You want to offer parts of yourself to him in return, to show him that you trust him like he seems to trust you. But you worry that you have nothing to offer, that you're just a mess of aimless wants and dreams and they only seem to take shape when Steve is around. And that might scare him away.

The truck pulls into New-Bee's and you don't want to let go of his hand. "Is this a date?" you ask. It sees to be a day of blurting out your thoughts.

He inhales loudly, quickly. "Oh god," he says, and your stomach swoops. "I can do so much better than this for our first date."

You feel emboldened by the suggestion that he does want to date you and he wants to do so properly. "So if this isn't a first date, does that mean you're not going to kiss me?" you ask.

He shuts off the truck and turns in his seat to you, finally letting go of your fingers to bring his palm to your jaw slowly, as if you would want to back away. "I seem to remember telling you that I wanted to. That I've been thinking about it for days." You lean into his touch and it pulls a sigh from you. He's so warm.

"C'mere, then," you murmur. The cab of his truck feels hot even though the heat is off, the engine silent. Steve wastes no time leaning in, his thumb stroking your cheek and his other hand rests on your thigh. You reach for him, grabbing the edges of his vest as he moves into your space.

If your first kiss was gentle, this one is a collision. It's not quite bruising, but he's kissing you hard enough to know that it could be. That Steve wants you just as much as you want him. He licks into your mouth and you sigh into him, leaning in as you chase his warmth, feel his hand gripping your leg. His nose rubs against yours and he tastes like spearmint.

It's definetly not a first date kiss -- it's a promise of something more, if you want it.

You pull away for a breath and his lips settle on your jaw as if he's going to suck a bruise there, but then he changes his mind, instead pecking you once on the corner of your mouth and releasing you. His cheeks are red, pupils blown and lips slick. Just one kiss and you've got him looking ruined. You can't be fairing much better.

"Come by the farm tomorrow?" he asks, sounding a little desperate but not caring one bit. "Just for a few hours. I don't want to wait until Saturday to see you."

You're beginning to think that you can't refuse Steve Harrington anything.

Which is why you head over to Sara's after you finish making a new batch of candles the next day. Bob didn't even blink when you said you'd go over there. For the first time, Steve is the one to greet you in the small farm store. He's in his overalls again today, that green sweater underneath and a sherpa-lined jacket over. You're in your hat and gloves today, since he told you he'd be taking you around his chores.

The fondness in your chest is starting to permanently edge away the ache you're used to. It's like Steve is a balm, slowly healing wounds you didn't even know you had from being lonely.

"You look ready to feed some chickens," he says by way of greeting. "How long have you got?"

"An hour, maybe a bit longer." The candles you worked on need to set, but you need to make some soaps tonight so they can dry before this weekend's market. "Lead the way."

Steve reaches up to tug on the hat you're wearing before lacing his gloved hands through yours. "Cute," he says, before tugging you outside and towards the chicken coop. You've never been on this part of the farm, and it finally hits you just how big the property is.

"How did Hopper start this?" you ask. There's a small shed next to the coop that Steve lets go of you to open.

"Scoop that into here," he says, pointing to a huge barrel of feed and a plastic bucket. He busies himself with filling another bucket with fresh water from a hose. "Well, he used to be the police chief. Married with a kid. This is a sad story, just a warning." You frown but keep scooping the feed. "Sara was the kid's name. He didn't actually live here, he lived a few towns over, so no one really knew when she got sick. I think it went pretty quickly after that."

You pause your task to look at him, eyes wide. "She died?" He steps close to cup your elbow, to squeeze it gently as if to comfort you. As if this tragedy is yours.

"Yeah," he mutters. "It changed everything. He and his wife split and next thing anyone knew he bought up this piece of land and started to restore the abandoned farm that was here."

"And he named it after her," you whisper. "Wow." Steve picks up the water bucket and reaches for the feed but you refuse him, lifting it yourself. It's heavy. No wonder Steve's arms look like they do.

"So that's the story," he says, opening the small gate that surrounds the coop. "Start tossing that. I'm gonna replace the water." He ducks into the sloping structure and you survey the small crowd of birds in front of you. They seem to sense that you've got something they want, as they start to bop in your direction. You quickly toss the feed and they all start to chirp and peck the ground. You see the rooster that apparantly doesn't like Dustin, but he doesn't pay you any mind.

"Nice work," Steve says from behind you, his palm light on the small of your back through all of your layers. "Give it a few more tosses and then we can meet another farm resident."

You start to do as he says, the cold air making your nose burn a little. "And now Sara's is just a part of Hawkins. I know I'd have no way of knowing but I can't imagine the town without it."

"You and me both," Steve says. "Okay, come with me." He grabs the bucket before you can stop him and grabs your hand again. He tugs you out of the chicken area and back to the little shed, trading your bucket for a new one full of something else, and then to another pasture nearby. The silence between you isn't heavy or awkward, it's nice. It makes you wonder how you ever didn't like him. "You're gonna love this," he says.

When you see what he means you gasp. It's the biggest cow you've ever seen, spotted like every cow you’ve seen in milk commercials. Her ears twitch as you both approach.

"This is Daisy," he says. "She's gentle." Steve told you how there are a few animals at Sara's that Hop just acquired without knowing what to do with them, this cow included. He sets down the bucket of feed and she slowly ambles over to stick her head in it.

"I love you," you say to the cow. "I love you. You are perfect." Steve laughs beside you, a full and bright sound. You turn to glare at him.

"Hey, I get it!" he cries, hands up. "She's great. Aren't you, Daisy?" She ignores him.

You tug his hat over an exposed ear without thinking about it. His eyes are warm on you as you scramble for another question. "How did the rest of the farmer's market stands get started?"

"Well, you know how New-Bee's started, yeah?" You nod, placing your hand on her wide neck just to see what she feels like. She's soft. Bob told you all about the family farm and his choice to take it over and the legacy in Hawkins when you first came to town. It's a sweet story, one you're grateful to be a part of now.

"Well, I can't speak for Rick's, but Joyce started Byers flowers after a tough year for her family. You can ask any of them about it, and they'll tell you. Everyone in town knows it well."

"It has to do with Will, right?" Something about the poor kid having a tough time, about it changing everything.

Steve nods. Daisy moos and ambles away from him, nudging you with her giant head as she goes. "Will was having a hard time at school and with his friends and his dad -- real asshole, let me tell you -- and he ran away into the woods. Went missing for an entire week."

"Oh, god," you say, picking up the bucket and following him back to one of the barns. "He was okay though, right?"

"Somehow. People started to think he had disappeared off of the face of the earth but he was just lost. Joyce didn't let anyone give up. Hop basically came out of retirement to help. But after, I think she and Jonathan were shaken and she wanted to do something to make them feel secure, to make Will feel grounded. So she started the flower shop for him, basically." You wonder what it feels like. To change your whole life to make it better for the people you love -- to turn things on their head to make space for happiness, safety, and security. The idea feels slippery in your mind, almost dangerous. To know that you could love someone so much to do anything for them, and that they could love you in return.

"So, Hawkins is a nice small town but we've got our share of baggage, I guess," Steve continues. "I gotta go pick apples for the store now, but I think you should get home, right?" He checks his wristwatch.

You sigh, hands twitching at your side. He puts down the bucket and reaches for you. You wish you weren't wearing gloves so you could feel his warm skin, his worn palms. "I should go back, yeah."

"Thanks for helping me do my chores," he says softly.

"Still not a date?" you ask him, smirking.

"Still not a date," he nods, but he moves closer. "I'm working on it. But I would like a kiss. If I'm allowed." You pretend to think about it but can't bring yourself to wait too long as one arm snakes around your waist.

"You're allowed," you say, breath hot on his mouth as he closes the gap. This time his lips are almost familiar. You know what to expect, know that he likes to go for your top lip then your bottom. He's gentler with his tongue this time, letting you gently lick into his mouth first, almost like he's feeling shy. Your hands are fisted in his jacket and his are hovering on your hips. You pull away before it gets too heated and he chases you, eyes still closed. It's so endearing that you turn away to hide your smile and his lips find your cheek for a brief moment.

___

It's almost funny how the Hawkins Farmer's Market has become the least interesting part of your life in this small town. Now your thoughts are taken over by a tall boy who smells like pine trees and soap and apples. It's easy to pretend that it could always be like this -- days making candles and trying to work up the courage to handle the hives and nights wondering if Steve is thinking about you, too. No worries about the future or about what you'll do when the market season ends and you outstay Bob's hospitality.

You feel like a part of Hawkins now. You've got regulars at the market who compliment you on your work and ask how things are going. You've got friends. And you've got Steve.

Steve, who you haven't seen since Wednesday. Steve, who slides into your stall like he's meant to be there.

"Hey," he says, bumping his shoulder with yours. You tuck one hand into the pocket of the vest he's wearing.

"Good morning," you say softly. He glances around the market like he's seeing if anyone is watching before he sticks a hand in after yours and twines your fingers together. Does he care that people might see? You draw your eyebrows together.

"I realize we didn't talk about how we want to play this," he tells you. "I know our first kiss had an, uh, audience, but..." He trails off. You glance at his watch and see that it's 8:55.

"You want to talk about this now?" you ask. It hadn't occurred to you to define what's going on, but maybe that's because thus far it's felt like you two are in your own bubble.

"That's up to you." His thumb strokes your hand in his pocket. His nose is pink and his cheeks pinker and you can't tell if it's because of the cold or this conversation.

You sigh. "Well, I'm pretty sure everyone knows that something is going on." The corner of his mouth raises.

"Something, huh?" He swoops in and kisses your cheek quick, but it's enough to make you feel warm all the way to your toes. "I'll take something." You worry that you're disappointing him by not having a better answer but he's grinning at you. "You free tonight? To do 'something'?"

"A first date? Finally?" You try to sound casual, but your stomach flutters. You don't have words for this thing between you but he still wants to take you out. He squeezes your hand.

"Yep," he says, popping the p. "Drive in movie. I'll pick you up. Just bring a blanket ." He kisses you on the cheek again and detaches himself from your side, making to head back to the Sara's stand before the market opens.

"Steve!" you call after him. "I didn't say yes!"

He turns but keeps walking backwards. His crooked smirk and bright eyes make it easy to imagine hoards of girls falling for him in high school. "Are you going to say no?" You roll your eyes and wave him off, unable to fight your own smile. You half expect Eddie or someone else to tease you about it, to call you out on the giddy energy you can't tamp down, but no one does.

It stays in your chest all day, making you feel light and silly. You sing to yourself as you put on brown tights and the only skirt you brought with you -- grey denim to go with the chunky knit of your dark blue sweater. It's the nicest outfit you've worn since arriving in Hawkins but a first date with a boy you really like feels like the right occasion to ditch the jeans and New-Bee's t-shirt. And while it's almost too cold to wear anything but pants, you figure that Steve will keep you warm.

Getting into the Sara's truck feels familiar at this point, blanket in hand as Steve rushes to open the door for you. He's in nicer jeans than you've seen before and a smart-looking sweater and you can smell his shampoo when he leans into the passenger side to kiss your cheek again.

"You look pretty," he says, then shuts the door before you can reply, jogging back to the driver's side.

"You look pretty, too," you tell him once he's in the truck. He flushes and you wonder if you should have said handsome or nice, but in truth, those wouldn't cover it. Steve is so pretty it makes you itch to touch him.

"Gotta show you I can clean up when necessary," he teases, turning the radio up and lacing his fingers through yours on your thigh. You can feel the heat of his hand much better through your tights.

He sings along to a song you only kind of know as he drives, and you could watch him forever. Even in the dim light of the evening, he takes your breath away. You don't even notice when he pulls into the drive-in lot until he parks the car.

"I'm gonna go pay and get some food. Popcorn?" he asks. You nod, looking around the open field in front of the screen as he goes. He's parked you in the back row but not quite in the most secluded spot. As if he's giving you the opportunity to spend your first date like teenagers and make out the whole time, or simply watch the movie with him.

When he comes back, popcorn in hand, you wonder if you should call him on it just to see that pretty blush again, but before you can the projector powers up and the movie starts.

"Are you going to laugh if I tell you I didn't even check to see what the movie was?" he says to you. You pull open the blanket and scoot over to him on the truck bench, thigh to thigh as you drape it over both of you. You reward his honesty with a peck on the cheek.

"Probably a horror movie." He balances the popcorn carton on top of your legs and pops some in his mouth.

"You scared?" he asks.

"Well, you parked us far enough away that it'll be hard to be scared from here." He has the decency to look caught but you tuck yourself into his side so he knows you're not actually mad. His arm wraps around you and the screen says "An American Werewolf in London."

"I think I saw this when it came out," you say softly. The car speaker is loud enough that you don't think anyone will yell at you to be quiet, but you like how Steve keeps his face close to hear you. "Snuck into the theater with some friends." He hums and you feel it everywhere you're pressed together. It's nice to just watch the movie with him, though every minute that goes by makes you want to touch him more. It must have been only a half hour or so when you shiver a little and Steve notices.

"C'mere," he says, setting the empty popcorn carton on the dash and lifting the blanket to pull both of your legs over his so that you're basically half in his lap. He tucks the fabric back over both of you and runs his hand over your thighs. "Better?" he asks, and maybe you're imagining it, but he sounds a bit ragged.

"Yeah," you breathe. Any hope you had for paying attention to the movie is lost.

You look over at him from where you're nestled into his side and you know that he's being sweet but he did park you in the back and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him and not stop. Something violent happens on the screen and people in cars near you scream but you can't tear your eyes away.

"Steve," you whisper. His eyes dart to yours and he totally looks at your lips for a second too long. "Steve, I know you're being a gentleman all since this is our first date, but if you want to make out for the rest of the movie, I'm game." You try to keep your expression neutral but then he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his adam's apple and you inhale sharply, betraying just how bad you want him.

"Honey," he says, the hand on your shoulder sliding into your hair. "You have the best ideas." Spurred on by his teasing, you surge forward to kiss him. He wastes no time parting your lips and licking into your mouth, tongues battling and his hand gripping your thigh firmly. Someone in a nearby car screams again and you can feel him smile. He sucks on your bottom lip and you can't decide where to put your hands because you want to touch all of him. You settle one on his chest and the other at the collar of his sweater. He gasps when you dip a few cold fingers under the fabric to feel the tops of his collarbones, the heat of his bare skin.

"You have cold hands," he mutters, lips trailing to the corner of your mouth and down your jawline. Your neck is starting to hurt turned like this, so you decide to go all in and pull your legs back from where they're hooked over his before quickly readjusting to swing a knee fully over him and settle into his lap properly. Your skirt hitches up and you suck in a ragged breath when you feel him hard through his jeans. Coherent thought is a thing of the past because god, how you want him. You have half a mind to ask him to fuck you in the back of the truck right now if you weren't in public. And if this wasn't your first date. But the look in his eyes makes you think that he'd say yes.

"Hi," you say, feeling a little shy under his gaze. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs finding the sliver of skin exposed where your sweater has rucked up. You settled yours on either side of his jaw.

"Hi," he echoes. His pupils are blown in the dark of the truck cab and his lips are already a little swollen. "I--," he starts, then clears his throat. "Fuck," he settles on. "You look so pretty right now." You make a pleased sound and tilt his jaw up to your elevated angle to kiss him again. The heat is still there but you take your time, kissing slowly, lazily as the movie plays behind you. You can still feel Steve's cock between your legs and you grind on him reflexively, pulling noises out of him that you store in your memory for later. You kiss and kiss and kiss, hands wandering, breaths mingling. He trails his lips down your jaw, sucking gently on your pulse point as you rub your thumbs over the moles on his neck. It's been forever since you've been touched like this, with such tenderness and desire. All of your new favorite touches seem to come from this boy underneath you, from his hand on your skin to his mouth on your neck.

You think you could make out with Steve Harrington forever.

But, as it is, forever is hard to come by at a drive-in movie. A movie that seems to be almost over, from the sound of it. A peal of laughter pulls you out of the lustful haze in the cab because it sounds so familiar.

"That's totally his truck," someone says. Someone who sounds like --

"Mike, you owe me five bucks," says...Max. It has to be her. "I told you they were together."

You look down at Steve and he groans, an annoyed sound more than a sexy one, and taps your thighs. You get off of him and move back to your side of the front seat as he pulls the blanket up to cover his own lap. Wow, you think. I did that.

"Leave them alone, guys! We don't need a ride that badly." Now that you're looking, you can see the group of kids approach the truck, Will in the middle of scolding them. You try to fix your hair and pull your clothes back to where they belong.

"It's too dark to walk," Dustin says. The screen is fully showing the credits now. "They can stop sucking face long enough to bring us home."

"You know we can hear you, right?" Steve yells as he rolls down the window. "Shitheads," he says to you. Both of you are still breathing a little heavily but you can't stop smiling. The teenagers crowd around the driver's side door but they all wave at you.

"Hi guys," you call to them. "Did you like the movie?"

"Are you even old enough to see this?" Steve sneers. "You're all like, 12 still."

"You wish," Dustin chirps. "I bet you guys really enjoyed the movie." Lucas laughs and Max swats him on the arm but she's grinning too.

El shoves in front of them. "Can you take us to Mike's please?" she asks. She's got her arm looped through the taller boy's. Steve sighs like he's the most inconvenienced guy in the world.

"Do you mind?" he asks you. "Playing driver to a bunch of punks isn't exactly date material." You take one of his hands.

"Course I don't." He grins at you before gesturing at the group.

"Alright, get in the back. But you keep your asses in that truck bed when we get moving, you understand? Arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. I'm looking at you, Mayfield!" Steve starts the truck with his free hand and the radio mingles with the laughter behind you and as he drives you out of the lot and onto the streets of Hawkins you think that maybe this is the best first date you've ever been on.

___

October is a long month by calendar standards but you feel like it's moving too fast. Even still, you feel like things are good. Your parents are thrilled to hear that you're enjoying the town and that you have friends. You wake up each day and feel excited to go into town and see them, or to go out back and help Bob get the hives ready for winter. You feel settled.

The week after your date is full of late-night phone calls to Steve, a few dinners with Robin when she's home, and visits from Eddie or the kids at New-Bee's. Everyone is so kind to you, hugging you each time they see you and asking how you are. You feel like you belong.

And those phone calls with Steve explore a part of you that you've not bared to anyone else. He tells you how he has always wanted to see the world outside of Hawkins but that he doesn't know who he would be if he left. You tell him you're searching for a place that feels like home, a place that can support you and make you feel cared for. He explains how years under his parent's absent thumb made him a little bitter, a little convinced that maybe he needs to leave to appreciate what he's got. You encourage him, tell him you understand, but you also wonder if that means that he's just going to leave right when you figure out you want to stay.

It hits you as you're tucked beside him into a booth across from Eddie and Robin at the pizza place in town that you might be falling in love with him. It's only been a few months since you met and even less than that since you decided that you liked him but you know it to be true. The lonely ache in your chest has all but disappeared and you feel like the story you've started here has him at the center. And now that he's there you can't imagine anything else.

"Are you listening?" Robin asks, waving her hand in front of your face. "This is important shit. This is the Sara's Farm Halloween Festival!" Eddie drums his hands on the table and Steve groans.

"You haven't told her about it yet, Harrington?" Eddie tuts. "It's only...the best thing about fall in Hawkins."

"He has told me a little," you say, coming to his defense. His hand squeezes your knee under the table as he takes a bite of pizza. "But not a ton. Only that it's...wild?"

"Wild is an understatement," Robin says. "Something crazy happens every year. That's when Steve and Nancy broke up, and when Hopper and Joyce were found making out in the orchard, and when Max punched her dipshit over brother before he moved out of town." You've heard short versions of these stories from Steve, but didn't realize they all happened at this festival.

"Alright, she gets it," Steve says.

Robin continues like she doesn't hear him. "And there's a haunted hayride -- me and Eddie always volunteer to be actors -- and bobbing for apples and pumpkin carving and like, a ton of good food from all the local places and lots of candy. Oh, and a costume contest!" She grins at Eddie and kicks you under the table. "Which reminds me..."

"I have the prefect idea for a group costume," Eddie says. Steve groans.

"Munson, we are not going as the aliens from Alien, how many times do I have to tell you?"

Eddie glares at him. "That was last year's idea, Steve. This year we're going to go as Star Wars characters." You grin. You love that movie.

"Okay," you say. "I'm game." Robin and Eddie cheer and Steve laughs. "But who is who?"

"That's easy," Steve says. "You're Leia, I'm Han, and Robin is Luke."

"And Eddie here is Chewbacca," Robin adds. You laugh through your mouthful of pizza at the image.

"You don't actually have to come," Steve says later when you get into his truck after dinner. "Don't let them pressure you."

"Well, you'll be there, right? Since it's at Sara's?" He nods. "And you have to work it?"

"Only a little," he says. "Maybe make sure no one gets stabbed carving a pumpkin. But only for a few hours."

"Then I'll be there. For moral support." You frown. "But I'm not wearing that bikini from Return of the Jedi."

____

You end up wearing all white -- well, fairly dirty white work pants and a white sweater. You do your best with the space buns but Steve laughs at you when you walk up to where he's standing at the pumpkin carving table.

"You're a dead ringer for Carrie Fisher," he says. You roll your eyes. He has put minimal effort into his Han look but it's recognizable -- dark pants tucked into his work boots and a white henley under a blue vest.

"Where are uh...Luke and Chewbacca?" Once you're on the same side of the table he pulls you into his side and kisses you soft and quick. It's a cold night and his nose is icy against yours.

"Haunted hay ride," he says. "I think they made their costumes...undead versions? Something stupid like that." You snicker and survey the farm. The whole town seems to have turned up for the festival and almost everyone is in costume. Kids run around as small ghosts and skeletons and witches as their adults chase them. Everyone is smiling, laughing -- except for the occasional screams you can hear from the hay ride. Joyce is running the pumpkin pie contest by the farm store and Hopper is glaring at Mike and El where they bob for apples. Lucas, Max, Dustin, and Will intently carve pumpkins at one of the picnic tables and Jonathan is taking a picture of them.

"Lemme go make sure they know what they're doing," Steve sighs. He taps your cheek with his gloved knuckle and heads over there. He's only gone a few seconds when Nancy, home for the festival, comes to say hi.

"You look great," you tell her, and mean it. She and Jonathan are Sandy and Danny from Grease, though it seems that she's gotten more into it than he has. She's layered a black leather jacket over her tight shirt and pants, her perm brushed out and her lips coated in red.

"So you do!" She joins your side of the table and you huddle together. "Are you enjoying this chaos?"

"It's certainly interesting."

"Time goes so quickly from here," she sighs. "Only a few farmer's markets left, then it'll be the holidays before you know it." Her reminder of the dwindling weeks of your job makes you shiver. Your friend looks at you with curious eyes. "Do you know what you're doing once the market is over?" she asks, not unkindly. Nancy strikes you as a person who knows how to ask the right questions. She's going to be a journalist, after all.

"No," you tell her. "Not really." Two months in Hawkins and you still don't know what you want from your life. Your twenties stretch out in front of you like a perilous sheet of ice, unexplored and volatile. It feels like one misstep will shatter everything.

"Well," she urges, "do you like Hawkins enough to stay? I'm sure Bob would let you." Your eyes are on Steve as you toy with the idea. It's one you've had before, of course, though you've not asked Bob about it. You really could stay here. It's a lovely town full of lovely people and maybe you just need more time to figure out what kind of life you want, whether you should get a 9-5 job or move to the city or try school again.

But then you remember how Steve said that he might want to leave. That he wants to see the world, to try something else. He's tired of being settled. And maybe you staying here wouldn't be enough to keep him. Or, worse still, you'd prevent him from doing what he really wants.

"I could," you say, finally. "I'd like to, maybe." But even as you say it your chest feels tight. How can you reconcile your new love of Hawkins with your growing love for Steve? Especially if he doesn't want to stay here?

Nancy squeezes your arm. "I know you'll figure it out. You've got lots of people willing to help you!" She smiles at you so kindly you could cry.

"Nancy!" Dustin calls. "Can you tell your stupid brother he can't make his pumpkin a gaping hole?" You both look up and see that Mike and El have wandered over to the pumpkin carving table and the former is doing some serious damage to an innocent gourd.

"Mike!" Nancy yells, detaching herself from you with a smile. "You're giving the Wheelers a bad name. Give me that knife!" The table erupts into laughter and Steve makes his way back to you after he ruffles Dustin's hair.

"Come with me," he says, holding out a hand.

"Don't you have to keep working?" There are other adults around but you don't want to make Steve look after you.

"Won't even notice I'm gone," he says. He tucks your joined hands into the pocket of his vest and heads towards the apple orchards. There are a few people here and there, the paths lit by lanterns and lights, but for the most part he's taking you away from the crowd.

"Is this where you murder me?" you joke. "Actually, are you taking me to the hayride? I'm gonna hide in your jacket the whole time if you are."

"Fuck no," he says. "The hayride is way too scary for me. But it does go through here. You'll hear the screams coming." He grins at you and you realize you know his face well enough by now to recognize his expressions in the dark. Your heart jumps a little and you shove down your conversation with Nancy. Tonight is about having fun.

"So what are we doing in the orchard, Steve?" He weaves you between apple trees with careful steps, tugging you away from exposed roots and fallen fruit.

He doesn't say anything until he pulls you to a stop under a particularly big, bare tree, backing you up against the trunk. He releases your hand and hooks his fingers through your belt loops. You can see his breath in the air between you.

"Wellllllllll," he drags out. "I could pretend I've got something really romantic planned." He trails his lips over the apple of your cheek and you loop your arms around his neck, hands in his hair. "But really I just want to make out."

His words send a thrill through you. All you want these days is to be close to him and if he's going to offer it up on a silver platter. You're going to take it. "That's romantic," you say right before he kisses you lightly, barely any pressure.

"Glad you think so," he says against your lips. You're sick of his teasing so you tug on his hair a little and he gets the message. One hand moves from your belt loops to your lower back, pulling you into him even as he pushes you up against the tree. His mouth works you open and you make a needy sound when he shoves a thigh between yours. You cant your hips and feel him hard through his dark pants. He hisses, cupping your jaw to angle you and kiss you even deeper.

His thumb presses into your cheek and the gloved hand on your back pushes your sweater up just a little. You gasp into his mouth at the cold.

"Hold on," he mutters, pulling away from you to tear off the glove with his teeth and shove it in his pocket before he's diving in again, suckling your bottom lip and shoving his wide palm back under your sweater. The warmth of his skin pulls another noise from you and you feel hot all over. You never want to leave this place -- the cold night of the orchard, Steve's arms, the heat of him swallowing you whole. You have no thoughts except him and his tongue and his lips and his hands and SteveSteveSteveSteve.

A chorus of screams echo through the orchard and bring you back to reality. He isn't phased.

"Steve," you pant. "Steve." He grunts against your neck, lips busy sucking a bruise on the exposed skin. "Should we go back to your place?" He pulls away from you, eyes dancing and swollen lips pulled into a smirk.

"Woah there, bee girl," he says. "You trying to get lucky tonight?" He sounds like he's swallowing his own excitement.

You tuck a loose lock of his hair behind his ear. It's a tender motion at odds with what you say next. "What if I am?"

All the air rushes out of him at once. The hand on your back presses into you a little harder. "Oh," he breathes. "I-- okay." He blinks a few times, then smiles brilliantly. "I can make that happen."

He kisses you one more time then tugs you into a jog towards the barn that houses his loft. You don't run into anyone on the way, but the laughter travels over the property and you feel giddy. You're going to have sex with Steve. You're going to have sex with Steve.

He fumbles with his keys when you reach the top of the iron staircase and you spill into his loft once he's unlocked the door. You kick it shut behind you and you both just stand in his dark kitchen for a second.

"We can stop anytime," he says. His hand finds yours. "We can do whatever you want and nothing more."

"I want you, Steve," you say. Your voice doesn't waver even though you're so worked up you're fit to burst. "If you want that, I mean."

"I do, honey," he groans, voice ragged. "I do." He tugs you to the other side of the room, behind the bookshelves where his bed waits, sheets a little rumpled. He lets you go to draw the curtains and flick on his lamp and you take the opportunity to shuck off your sweater and the shirt you've got on under it. By the time he turns around you're down to a bra.

"Holy shit," he says. "Holy shit, you're so--" He shakes his head. "Bed, please." You toe off your shoes and socks as he does the same and meet him in the middle, both of you on your knees. You feel the hardness of his cock through his pants again and gasp when his bare hands traverse the exposed skin of your torso. He swallows the sound, kissing you with a renewed fervor as his fingers tease and squeeze. You tug at the bottom of his top and he obeys, pulling away and whipping it off lightning fast in that way that boys do before kissing you again.

Steve gently guides you down so that you're on your back and he settles between your legs, holding himself up with one arm while he traces the line of your body with the other hand. He grinds into you and you moan. You ache for him, your cunt all but throbbing underneath your pants and you push up into him, hands roaming over every inch of exposed skin you can find.

"Christ," he says. "Gonna make me come in my pants." You laugh, bright and happy, and he trails his lips down your neck, nibbling on your collarbone. His fingers play with the strap of your bra. "Can I take this off?" he asks you. You know that if you said no he wouldn't mind, but you want to feel him everywhere. So you nod.

"Words, baby," he says and you feel the endearment like a shock to your system. He doesn't even seem to know he's said it.

"Yes," you breathe. "Let me --" you sit up just a little, enough for him to reach under you and unhook the bra before he tosses it on the floor somewhere. The chilly air of his loft hits your skin and you shiver, hands automatically covering your bare breasts as you lay back on the bed.

"Oh, now she's shy, huh?" he teases. "C'mon, lemme see you." You pull your hands away and he sucks on his teeth. "Perfect," he says, cupping each breast in one hand, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. For just a second, you believe him. He just looks and looks and looks, before leaning down to kiss you again as his hands work. His chest hair is wiry against your skin, his bicep firm under your arm where you squeeze to get his attention.

"Steve," you scold, canting your hips again. "Get a move on." He's taking it slow in case you change your mind, you know that, but you aren't going to. And if you don't have his hands where you really need them soon, you might explode.

"Where do you want me, huh?" he says, trying to be cocky. But the way his pupils are blown and his breathing stutters betray how riled up he is. That he wants you just as much as you want him. "Here?" he asks, lips traveling down the valley between your breasts, tongue dipping into your navel. "Or here?" He unbuttons your pants and you lift your hips so he can drag them off.

"I think you know where I want you," you grit out. He plants kisses onto the soft flesh of your thighs, hands grabbing at you and squeezing. You hope he leaves bruises.

He noses at your cunt through your panties, inhaling like he's smelling one of your candles. Your hips jerk up and he laughs, one palm spreading over your soft belly to keep you still. "I can feel it," he says. "I can feel how wet you are already." He sounds awed. "Can I take these off?" You're nodding frantically and he doesn't make you say it out loud before he's peeling them off and tossing them to the side. Before you can close your legs he gently catches your knees and holds them open, eyes wide as he looks and looks and looks.

"Christ," he says. "Just look at you." You swear you see his cock twitch in his pants.

The way he's gazing at you makes you feel beautiful, makes you feel wanted and cherished. It also makes you wetter and you clench around nothing. His lips part and he exhales heavily.

"Please say you're going to let me eat you out," Steve begs. In truth, you'd let him do anything to you, which might be why you can hardly control the sound that rips from you.

"God, yes," you tell him, shyness totally gone. He gets on his stomach and brackets his head with your thighs, nosing at your clit right away. You cover your face with your hands and try to breathe.

"So pretty," he says into your cunt. "So pretty, so wet for me, huh?" The filthy lilt to his voice makes you clench again and he drags the flat of his tongue through your folds, swirling around your clit before licking back down. His hands press back into your abdomen, fingers kneading as he keeps your hips down. He taps your hip and you look down the slope of your body to find him grinning at you.

"Now that," Steve says, chin shiny and mouth smug, "tastes like honey." You groan and thread your fingers through his hair as he dives back in. HIs tongue is everywhere and he's making no effort to hide his enthusiasm. You can hear the slick slurping as he sucks on your clit and laps at you like a man starved. He traces your entrance and you tug on him a little.

"Steve," you moan. "Steve, oh my god." He hums against you and your hips fight his hand as he presses down. "That's so good, Steve," you cry. "God, you're so good." His eyes fly up to you and you see that his pupils are totally blown.

He keeps his eyes on you to watch your reaction as he gently sticks one finger into your opening. It rips a guttural groan from you and you buck against his hand. "More," you say. "More, Steve, please." He slowly fucks you with one digit, adding a second and scissoring them as he continues to use his tongue. His pace is slower than you'd like but you can feel your orgasm approaching, feel your breath starting to get out of control.

"Steve," you moan. "Steve, I--" He pocks up the pace and you keen. "I'm close, I--"

"Lemme hear you," he says. "Lemme hear those pretty noises as you come, yeah?" The hook in your navel releases and you crash over the edge, your cunt spasming around his fingers as he continues to fuck you through it, tongue swirling around your clit.

"Holy shit," you say once you've come down. "Steve, c'mere." He crawls up your body and you tug his face down to yours, swallowing his noise of surprise with your lips. You can taste yourself in his mouth.

"You are so good at that," you tell him. "I think I saw stars." He looks appropriately smug as he runs his hands down your sides.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asks. "It's okay if you don't --" You cut him off and reach down to palm him through his pants, feeling him unbelievably hard and big through the fabric.

"I do," you say, dragging your tongue up the column of this throat.

He slides off the bed and starts to unbuckle his belt. "I have to ask --" The flush on his cheeks runs all the way down his chest. You want to lick every inch of him. "Have you had sex before? Just so I know?"

"Yeah," you say, watching him in the dim light. "I have. But it's been a while. And it's not been like this." You blame the post-orgasm haze for your honesty.

Steve pauses, pants around his ankles. "What do you mean?"

You make yourself keep looking at him. "Well. Sex with someone I like this much. It's...different." He shoves his boxers down and joins you on the bed, kneeling between your legs again. God, he's big. Your mouth waters.

"Me too," he says. The emotion rises in your throat and you sit up and gently wrap your hand around his cock instead of saying something revealing. He sucks in a breath.

"I think I would like you inside me now, Steve." The sound he makes is deep, raw, and he lunges for the bedside table where he pulls out a condom, making quick work of the foil as you stroke him lazily.

"Hey," he grabs your wrist." I--you can't keep doing that, baby." Baby. Your heart squeezes and your eyes flutter. "I'll lose it before we get anywhere." You laugh and he slides on the condom, hissing at his own touch.

He positions himself and you settle your legs around his hips as he leans down to kiss you. You can feel the heat of his cock slide through your folds as he coats himself in your own slick. "Ready?" he whispers, forehead pressing against yours.

"Yeah," you breathe. He reaches down and you feel the tip of him slide in. You're worked open from his fingers and plenty wet enough but it's still a stretch. He laces your fingers together as he keeps pushing, slow and careful so you can adjust to being so full.

"God," he groans. "You're tight."

"And you're huge," you reply. He chuckles breathily, nose rubbing against yours.

"You sure know what to say to a guy when he's inside you." He bottoms out and you gasp, the pain of the stretch pulsing through your entire body as it fades to something else. A fullness, a pressure that you need to build. "You okay?" he asks.

"Gimme a second," you say, eyes shut tight so he won't see the few tears gathering. He kisses your lids, your nose, your cheeks, releases one hand to palm your hip. "Okay," you say. "Okay, move. Please."

He slowly, slowly drags his cock out of you and you make a filthy noise when he pushes back in. "Fuck," he hisses.

"That's the idea," you grit out and he laughs in surprise before narrowing his eyes at the challenge in your words and picking up the pace without warning, fucking you in earnest now.

"You're doing so well," he babbles. "Taking me so well. Feels so good." He keeps talking, telling you how tight you are and how pretty you look under him.

"Steve," you say. "Fuck me, Steve. Keep fucking me. God, just like that. Your cock -- it's so good." The filthy words surprise you even as you say them but you can't stop, you don't even know what you're saying and where it's coming from. Because all you can think about is Steve and how he's everywhere, how good it feels to have him inside you, how maybe you two were always going to end up here.

"I-- are you close?" he asks. "I'm not gonna last much longer, baby." Babybabybabybaby.

"Me too." You wrap one arm around his neck, drawing him even closer. You want to crack open your ribcage and pull him inside you. You want to give him your heart. "Just -- faster. A little harder." He obeys, the smacking of your skin and the squelching of your cunt filling the room as you get closer to your second orgasm, as Steve really starts to lose his mind. One hand rubs clumsily at your clit as he starts to chant your name, your real name, the one he hardly ever says, and it's the sound of it from his mouth that sends you over the edge.

You clamp around him, knees so tight on his hips you're sure he'll bruise, and he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

"So good for me," he babbles. "So good, so perfect --" and then his thrusts stutter and he spends himself into the condom before flopping down on top of you, arms barely holding him up.

"Don't wanna crush you," he slurs, but you wrap your legs and arms fully around him, pulling him down onto you with his full weight. It's comforting, his damn chest against yours, his cock softening inside you. You feel tenderness that you don't have words for so this will have to do. He noses at your neck, his breaths calming down in sync with yours.

He kisses you gently before he taps your hip and you let him go. Both of you hiss as he pulls out, the soreness already starting to set in for you. "Gimme one sec," he says, rolling off the condom and heading for the bathroom. It feels intimate to watch him walk around his own home naked. He returns and flops down on the bed next to you, fumbling for your hand. You give it to him and rest your head on his proffered bicep.

"You okay?" he asks. If you had more brain power you'd tease him, but as it stands you can't find the energy.

"That was...so good, Steve," you say. He flushes even deeper. His eyes dance.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey," he whispers. "And I'm gonna love every second."

Your heart swells. What can you say to that? How can you tell him what he's become to you? How do you put that into words?

Your stomach rumbles before you can try. Steve laughs and swings his legs out of bed, tugging his boxers back on before searching for the rest of his clothes. "I'm gonna go nab us some sweet stuff." He checks his watch. "9:30. Should still be some food. Maybe apple cider donuts, a pie. Sound good?" You hum, stretching out in the mess of his bed.

"Yum," you murmur. He smiles down at you. God, he really is so pretty.

"I'll be 10 minutes. 15 tops, okay?" He sloppily kisses your cheek and heads out. As soon as the door closes it's like he takes the mood with him. You shiver and pull on your sweater and panties and head to the bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, barely glancing at the products he's got in the counter. You look like a girl who just got fucked well: hair a mess, bruises forming on your throat and the flesh of your hips, lips swollen. You look satisfied.

"I think I'm in love with him," you say out loud to the empty room when you step back into it. The words feel strange in your mouth, almost like they're going to turn around and bite you. You're in love with him. Or something close to it. It feels cliche to admit this after he's been inside you, after you've had maybe the most tender sexual experience of your life. But it's like your heart is beating with him in mind, like your skin is new, different now that he's touched it. You feel loved.

So why do you also feel so scared?

"Breathe," you whisper. "Breathe." You suck in huge gulps of air. You don't want Steve to come back and see you like this. After you just had such a wonderful time. But something inside you is screaming to run. The ache that you thought you'd chased off, the one that reminds you that nothing is permanent and this won't last and you don't belong here, returns. All of a sudden it's all you can feel, and maybe if Steve was here to hold you you'd be able to overcome it but as it is you realize you're up and shimmying into your pants and your shoes.

You should go, you think. It doesn't make any sense but you have to get out of here.

So you run.

You sneak out of his loft and around the barn and run to the parking lot, your thighs protesting with soreness and your heart breaking with every step, sure you're messing up the best thing that's happened to you.

It's not too late, a part of you says. You can still go back. You can love him.

You ignore it.

The drive back to New-Bee's flies by. Before you know it you're up the stairs and into the farmhouse, blinking away tears as you plop down at the kitchen table in the dark. You think maybe you're in shock. Footsteps sound above you and you realize that Bob is home already. He said he was going to the festival for a bit but always turns in before too late.

You try to reign in your emotions but every movement reminds you of the way Steve had touched you, held you, kissed you. And they're such good memories that the realization that you might never make more of them because of your own fear makes the tears flow as Bob thuds down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Oh, hey!" Bob says, flicking on the light. He looks ready for bed. "Did you just get back from the festiv-- woah, are you okay?" He puts the mug down on the table and hurries to your side. "Did something happen?"

You put your face in your hands. "No," you say. "Just me being stupid." Bob's hand is hesitant on your shoulder but when you don't push him away he rubs your back gently.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You shake your head. He hums and keeps rubbing. "Let me make you some tea." He fills the kettle and puts it on the stove, readying a mug for you.

"I messed up really bad," you whisper, so soft you don't know if he hears you. "And I don't know why I did it."

"We all mess up, kiddo," he tells you. "I'm sure whatever it is can be fixed." If you weren't such a fucking mess the sheer insanity of the situation would make you laugh: you telling your employer that you messed up because you had sex with the guy you might be in love with but you ran out on him because you're scared of him loving you back for no apparent reason.

The phone rings and you jerk your head up to stare at it. You don't move so Bob picks it up. You know in your gut who it is.

"Yeah, hi, Steve." Bob looks at you and you shake your head. His face does something funny and then it softens, as does his tone. "No, she's here. She got home safe." He nods a few times, eyes on you again. "Yeah, I'll tell her. Thanks for calling to check. Goodnight." The receiver clicks.

"So," Bob says carefully." That was Steve. He wanted to make sure you were safe." You take a deep breath. "He also said he wants you to call him when you get a chance." You swallow a sob. He called to check on you after you left him. And you owe him an explanation, you know you do. But what can you even say? Sorry, I realized I was in love with you and psyched myself out? Who does that?

"Go to bed, kiddo," Bob says, setting your tea down. "Sleep on whatever it is and take stock in the morning, okay?" He pats your head gently and heads for the stairs before turning to look at you one more time. "We all hurt the people we love, sometimes. But they forgive us because they love us, too."

You sit in the dim light of the kitchen for a long time.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123

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[chez-cinnamon]

So my question is how would the puppets celebrate fionns birthday?

I imagine a grump like him wouldn’t want to celebrate it for whatever reason and most of the puppets (mainly Julie and Wally) completely ignoring his grumpiness lol.

As Fionn got older he never really cared about his birthday, only ever treating himself to more expensive booze and many something fancy like some new draftsman equipment or car parts, but when the puppets come along they try and make it a big celebration.

Since they can't eat they make him birthday cupcakes with at least 10 layers of frosting, a shitload of sprinkles and at least 8 candles wedged onto each one; they also had to "borrow" money from Fionn to buy him presents. They even brought him to the park, since they don't really know anywhere fancy.

Fionn begrudgingly agrees, but over the course of the day, he relaxes and actually enjoys himself - suddenly his birthday feels much more special! <3

[levi501ackerman]

Steel Heart Chapter 16:

These Inconvenient Fireworks

Hange x Reader Chapter Index Masterlist

Megan's Note: Title is after a Larry Stylinson fanfic I read when I was 14. The author sold hardcover copies of their fanfic on lulu.com (this was common with 1D fanfic authors) and at 14 years old I fr made my mom buy me printed gay fanfiction. She was just happy her daughter was getting into the love of reading like her! LMAO. I start fall semester tomorrow (UGH) and a new job next month. Posted: 8/25/24

Word Count: 3.8k

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Levi scoffed. “If there was a man, why would—”

“We’re being watched,” you whimpered into Hange’s neck. Levi crossed his arms and eyed you skeptically. “I did not have a nightmare, Levi! There was a knight in the forest! He had blonde hair, was tall, covered in blood, and had a crested sword like the Knights of the Royal King’s Guard! But I’ve never seen him before . . .”

“Squads one and two, come with me,” Levi beckoned the knights away from you. Levi’s unexpected commands made you unsure if he believed you. Tears fell down your face and Hange’s breath was on your neck. Levi was whispering with twenty knights huddled together in the darkness. Then, the knights broke apart and went into their tent. Your heart plummeted. The thought of the knights returning to bed while the strange blonde knight raided the camp made you sick. You pulled away from Hange and wiped your tears. “It should be around four a.m. since Franz, Daz, Samuel, and Thomas were on watch. But Daz is going to find a clear view of the sky and hopefully, the stars will be visible enough to tell time . . .” Levi kneeled beside Hange and put a hand on your shoulder. “The knights are getting some equipment and going to scavenge the forest for the man you saw and anything suspicious.”

“T-thank you,” your chest unraveled a little at the assurance that something would be done. 

“I want to speak with you,” Levi stood up and motioned to Hange, who was clutching your cloak around their naked body. 

“No! Please . . . don’t leave me,” you said. You grabbed Hange’s arm, and their half-lidded eyes glanced at Levi. Your wide eyes studied Hange’s face, seeking comfort. They blinked a few times. They looked lethargic and exhausted; even when they nodded, they were slow. A tinge of admiration spread through your chest when Hange gently grasped the hand you placed on their arm. They held your hand against their heart. 

“What do you want to talk about?” They asked Levi, and he crossed his arms. You noticed Hange cared for you as they did what you asked. They stayed. Levi hesitated, and his eyes shifted knowingly between you and Hange. Knights emerged from their tents with candles and their swords drawn. Connie approached the lifeless campfire and worked on igniting the logs.  

“It’s not that I do not believe you saw a man, but I think we will be alright. Depending on the time, we will get a head start on our day,” You recalled Levi having insomnia and not sleeping well through the night. Levi averaged two to four hours of sleep per night. In the past, Levi, being awake, had managed to help predict when you would have nightmares and he was ready to calm you down so you wouldn’t disturb the other knights. Levi sleeping during the incident of you in the forest could point to the time being near dawn. “How do you feel? Do you feel tired?”

“I don’t think . . . I don’t think I could go back to sleep,” you stammered.

“Okay,” Levi softly said. 

“What do you think, Hange?” Hange’s inner eyebrows were perked up like they were trying to keep their eye open. They squeezed your hand and rubbed their thumb against your skin. 

“I’m going to try to get more sleep, Princess,” Hange admitted.

“Okay, I guess I can try too.” Light and warmth burst from behind Hange and Levi. Connie stepped away from igniting the fire and turned to notice a knight running back from a part of the forest. His hasty nature did not appear worrisome or like he found the bloodied knight in the forest. His face was determined yet calm. He looked familiar and you recognized he was one of the knights who came up to you after you found Franz. He was one of the guards on rotation. 

“Commander! Captain! I found a clear view of the sky and did the math. It is around four forty-five and five fifteen,” Daz said. “The sun will rise soon and we’ll have more daylight.”

“Great work, Daz,” Hange said and groaned. There wasn’t enough time to go back to sleep and feel rested. Breakfast would be between six and six thirty. Daz's concerned eyes studied you, checking how you were. 

“How are you, your Highness?” He gingerly asked.

“I feel safer, thank you, sir.” 

“I should start taking down the tent instead. It’s best if we go bathe right after eating, and then we can head to Flegel’s Farm,” Hange rubbed their eye. You could tell your incident woke Hange from a deep sleep. Guilt coursed through you as your outburst woke everyone up. But he was real. The bloodied knight with the crested sword was in front of you. 

He’s still out there.

Watching you.

He’s real. 

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around both Hange and Levi. 

“I’m sorry for my outburst,” you whimpered and Hange rubbed your back. “He’s out there, I swear.”

While the knights scoured the forest for the bloodied knight or anything related to the Marleyan Cult, you helped Hange take down the conference tent. They had to tell you what to do, and you appreciated their patience. Hange returned your cloak and told you to keep the hood on. You didn’t mind because the air was chilly. You rolled your bedroll up and Hange took it for you. 

The morning rays of sunlight broke through the canopy of trees, making the forest more comforting and less frightening. The green grass returned, and the trees weren’t shadows anymore. Their brown trunks were magnificent, and you could see past the light of the fire, which gave you a sense of safety. But deep inside, you felt unfriendly eyes on you. 

After a half hour of heading into the forest, the Knights returned to the camp at different intervals. The knights who usually prepared meals started with breakfast. Eventually, all twenty knights returned. No one was harmed, and no bloodied knight was found. But something felt wrong and you trusted your instincts. 

Levi wanted you to eat more protein and told the knight serving to give you three eggs and more chicken than rice. You cringed at the thought of forcing yourself to eat all the chicken and eggs Levi wanted you to eat. Especially since the rice felt more satiating. You argued with Levi that you wouldn’t eat another plate unless he took off half of the chicken and added more rice. Levi rolled his eyes but obliged.

Hange was sitting on a log in between two of their squad members. One of them you’ve seen Hange talk to before because he’s one of the only other knights who wears glasses, and the other knight was a man with short dark hair. The guy with the glasses passed Hange a delicate cloth, and then Hange wiped the lenses of their glasses. The two knights were next to Hange, and you hesitated to ask them to scoot over. You sat on the ground next to Hange’s feet, which amused Hange. Abel and Keiji offered to scoot over so you could sit next to Hange. Eventually, you did, which only ended up with you following the three when they got in line for food. 

Hange was retelling a story to Abel and Keiji about how they caught a frog in the river when they were younger, but you couldn’t pay attention. You tried ignoring it as you ate your chicken while standing beside Hange. Hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you and the knights were in danger. Though more than forty knights were in the camp and would lay down their lives for you, you remained fearful of the bloodied knight. You weren’t dreaming.

He’s still out there.

Watching you. 

He’s real.

As the knights cleaned and put away the cooking equipment, Hange suggested going to the river. You didn’t want to go to the river anymore. You worried being with fewer people might make the bloodied knight approach you. What if while you and Hange were down at the river, he slits Hange’s throat and takes you? You’d rather have him kill you than Hange. The bloodied knight’s piercing eyes flashed in your mind and you gasped. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hange asked and you realized you stopped walking. Hange looked over their shoulder at you and then walked to you. You were frozen in your tracks. They eyed you, analyzing your body and then approached your trembling form. Hange placed their hands on your shoulder and you looked up at Hange’s pretty eye. The heaving in your chest slowed and you blinked a couple of times. 

“Hange,” your whispered voice cracked. “I can’t shake the feeling that we are being watched.” Hange comfortably rubbed their thumb against your shoulders. You gave in to the feel of their soothing touch. They pulled you into their chest and you surrendered to their touch. Hange would keep you safe. Your breathing became even and Hange stroked your back again.

“Let’s bathe quickly so we can leave this place.” Hange soothed. They pulled away from the hug and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder. They guided you toward the river. The sound of the water was reaching your ears and then Hange gasped. You both stopped in your tracks.

In the distance on the shoreline was a small brown fur ball with a small white fur ball for a tail. A large smile grew when you saw the furry animal's head raise, revealing its long ears. A small cottontail rabbit was drinking from the river. Hange turned to you and with their index finger over their lips. They drew their sword from the waist of their tan pants and handed it to you. Then Hange held a hand up to tell you to stay and you silently nodded at them.

The bunny was frozen. It sensed you and Hange. Hange silently crept closer, and you hoped this was the moment Hange would catch you a pet bunny. The brown bunny hopped away from Hange and you both held your breath, hoping you didn’t spook the bunny.  Hange took another step forward and then waited. The bunny was petrified but anchored itself in place. Then Hange took another step and was a few feet away from your future pet. Hange dived for the animal and reached out their arms for the bunny. Their fingers grazed the bunny’s fur. The cottontail pounced away from the grasps of Hange and went into the tree line. 

“Hange!” You ran to Hange’s form lying on the dried pebbles of the shoreline. They winced and then pushed themselves up onto their knees. You crouched down next to them, “Are you okay? You’re always so close! I know you are going to catch us a bunny!”

“Those cuties are quick. Bunnies can run up to eighteen miles per hour, you know.” Hange dusted off their shirt. They got their white shirt even more dirty and will definitely need to wash it while bathing. “They're quick as a flash.”

“Quick like lighting!”

“Like lighting, for sure!” Hange started unbuttoning their white shirt. “I should wash this first to let it dry, " they said more to themselves. 

You placed Hange’s sword on the pebbles and then turned around to start striping your clothes. You looked across the river and back toward the camp. You and Hange were alone.

Hopefully.

“I bet the next time we see a bunny, you’ll catch it!” You encouraged Hange as you pulled down the tan slacks and shimmied off your pants. You folded your pants and then laid them against your boots. The light-hearted thought of a cute furry bunny roaming around the tent and feeding her carrots while holding it like a baby crossed your mind. The sloshing sounds of the river pulled you out of your daydream. Hange was naked and holding their dirty white top. They sat on their knees and their back was to you. They dipped the dirt-stained part of the fabric into the water and used their thumb to circle the area. “Let me help with that! I know a quicker way!”

“Oh yeah? The Princess is going to show me how to wash clothes? How unexpected.” Hange kept circling the stain with their thumb. You pulled off the cloak and unbuttoned the white shirt. Without a care to fold them, you piled them on top of the pants. You splashed Hange when you hastily stepped into the river. “Careful! I don’t want to get my entire shirt wet! It will take forever to dry!”

“May I?” You wanted to show Hange the technique Fairy Godmother Ymir showed you during childhood. Hange handed over their shirt and you placed most of the fabric between your bicep and ribs. Then, you fisted the fabric on the sides of the stains, letting the fabric slack. You dipped the dirt-stained part into the river’s water and used your fisted hands to rub your fingers against each other. The technique Fairy Godmother Ymir taught you was like using your fingers to act as a miniature corrugated washboard. You pulled the dripping fabric out of the water and squeezed. When you unfolded the damp bunched-up fabric, the dirt stain was gone. “Ta-da!”

“What?! It’s that easy?!” Hange gasped. They grabbed their shirt from you and tilted it against the sunlight, trying to see if the stain was gone. 

“Yes! Fairy Godmother Ymir taught me that when I started learning to clean blood stains from my underwear!” Hange’s jaw was dropped and there was a fond satisfaction with impressing Hange. Hange stood up from the water, taking their shirt to their pile of clothes.

“And all this time, I’ve been doing dumb circles, which takes forever sometimes!” Hange placed the wet part of the shirt facing up so the crisp air could dry it. You started splashing water onto your arms and rubbing your legs. Hange sat on your left and you began rubbing your arms in the water. They poked your cheek and stretched out their legs. “Thank you, Princess Y/N, you changed my life!”

“You changed my life . . .” Their doe-eye glanced at you, causing your cheeks to turn pink. They darted away from you and you wanted them to look at you again. Their lips looked soft, and Hange started rubbing their legs, which were submerged in the river. Then, Hange took out the hair tie that held their short hair back. You pulled your hair tie out, letting your hair fall behind you. You wanted Hange to say something—to say anything. 

Say something!

“Are you excited to try on dresses for your wedding?”

Not that, UGH!

“I-I haven’t thought of that, honestly . . . I guess I am.” You noticed your hands trembling as you pulled your knees to your chest. You wrapped your arms around your knees, protecting yourself. Your heart. Then you said, “I don’t want to marry Prince Marco.”

“I know, Y/N, I’m—”

“No, Hange . . . I don’t want to marry Prince Marco.” There was a pressure behind your nose and you inhaled deeply. You did not want to cry. Small fishes swam by in the river, but you weren’t in the right headspace to be excited about tiny fish. The small fish probably could choose who they wanted to mate with. They did not have to worry about a cult hunting them. Those fish didn’t suddenly get the rug ripped from under them and forced into a new life—one of danger, death, and responsibility. “I’m forced to be married to a stranger and I’m forced to feel on the edge constantly because of a cult hunting me. I was forced to leave my cottage, books, clothes, and possessions behind . . . I want to choose something in my life!”

You tilted your head toward Hange, and their confused expression had a hint of helplessness. Their lips looked soft, and Hange’s brown eye usually comforted you. But their glance made you feel cornered and guilty. 

“You’ll get your opportunity to make your own choices.”

“I know what I want.”

“You know?”

“I know . . .” You’ve seen Christa and Ymir do it before and tried your best to replicate them. With a flood of courage, you turned and held yourself in a steadied stance on your knees before Hange. You grabbed their face, leaned in, closed your eyes, and smashed your lips onto theirs. The flesh was indistinguishable and you felt the tip of their nose on your cheek. You felt a new, exhilarating rush through your body and ache between your legs. Hange’s hands fumbled around and they grabbed your wrist and used their other hand to push on your chest. 

Hange’s eye was wide and their pupil was dilated. Their face had a rosy hue and their lips were flushed. Your lips tingled, and you wiped them with the back of your hand. Hange brought their knees to their chest and hugged themselves. They were silent and downcasted their eye to the river’s water.

Guilt surged through your body, and you carefully sat in the river again. You crossed boundaries and possibly upset your friend. You just wanted to try it—once. You pulled your knees to your chest. Pressure built behind your nose and you blinked rapidly, avoiding tears. 

The water shimmered from the morning’s daylight and the sun’s rays warmed your skin. A light breeze rippled the water on the river’s surface and blew over the taller grass stems on the other side. A bird unapologetically tweeted from high in the trees.

“You should not have done that,” Hange whispered and your heart twinged. They were blushing and hiding themselves. Hange sniffed and they rubbed their eye. “They will have my head for that.”

“Who?” It felt hard to breathe and the Hange getting in trouble raised the guilt in your chest. You should not have crossed the line. You made your own bold choices but at what cost? You can choose to do whatever you want, but you can not choose your consequences. 

“The Queen and her King. Marco’s parents. They would flog me and then kill me for ‘corrupting the Princess.’ I wouldn't be alive by the end of the day when they found out.”

“I thought my parents were nice . . .” Hange covered their eye with their hand and you heard them hold back a whimper. “I’m sorry, Hange. I just wanted to try kissing.”

“We can not speak of this,” Hange whispered harshly.

“This was my first kiss . . .” you whispered. Hange sniffled again and a tear streamed down their face. They wiped it off quickly and your heart ached at the sight of the vulnerable form. 

“It’s my first since I lost my eye.” Hange bitterly said. There was a pinch in your chest, and you recalled what Hange had told you last night. Hange was dating someone when they lost their eye . . . and you tied together that the girl did not kiss or show Hange affection after their injury, which ultimately led to their relationship ending. “Damn it!” The water sloshed as they stood up.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I knew you liked me,” Hange looked at the pebbles by their feet as they walked toward the grass. You chased after them, sloshing water and dripping onto the pebbles. You grabbed their wrist and they pulled away from you. 

“Hange!”

“I knew you liked me and I couldn’t stop myself!”

“I’m sorry, Hange! I am so sorry. Please, we can forget about this! Please don’t be mad!” Hange crossed their arms and looked at their feet, their hair masked their face. The knight in shining armor from the Karanese District was helpless, confused, and defenseless. You held onto their biceps, looking up at them. A tear dropped from their face and they wiped it instantly away, again.

“I’m not mad at you, Y/N. I’m mad at myself.” You didn’t know what to do, and you gently hugged Hange. You rubbed their back like they did when you needed comfort. “I like you, Y/N, and I know you like me. You are painfully obvious—your stares, your questions, your curious nature about romance. You don’t take your eyes off my body when I undress.” 

“I’m sorry,” your heart fluttered at Hange’s words. They liked you back, and some part of you hoped there was a chance. 

“Stop apologizing,” Hange clipped and you nodded obediently. “We should get back.”

“I haven’t washed my hair—we both haven’t yet.” Hang pulled away from your hug and they walked back over to their pile of clothes. 

“That’s because you were going around kissing some knight in the river.”

“Hange . . . I don’t want to marry Prince—”

“It doesn’t matter what you want!” You flinched at Hange raising their voice. “You’re a Princess going to become Queen and I’m a knight. I’m just a knight.”

“But you like me, right? So why can’t we date?” 

“Oh you’re so naive—”

“I’m sorry!” A storm of thoughts loomed over Hange and you, the rage between desire and the constraint of duty. You stood next to Hange, watching them dress themselves. You crossed your arms, covering your exposed chest. Hange was hopping on one leg, trying to get their tan slacks over their damp skin. You wanted to explore love and explore it with Hange. 

“Listen to me,” Hange put their hands on your shoulders after they zipped their slacks. You accidentally glanced at their boobs and then blushed guiltily. “I-I want to call you mine,” their voice cracked as they confessed. Your heart raced, noticing the window of opportunity—your desires in reach. “But if we are caught, I will die.”

“No!” You took Hange’s wrists from your shoulders and held their hands. “I want a chance with you . . . I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. You are my best friend—the light in the dark. You are my savior—my angel. You were sent to protect me.”

“I should not give in to temptation,” Hange whimpered, resting their forehead on yours.

“I want to be yours even in secret.”

“I should not give in to temptation.”

“I will protect you if the Queen and her King find out.”

“I should not give in to temptation,” Hange inhaled sharply. Their anguished face was evident. Their eye was squeezed shut, and their lips were trembling. You placed their hands on your waist and then yours on their shoulders. They fondly grasped your waist, feeling your damp, soft skin, getting a glimpse of what could be theirs—giving in. They whispered, “I am going to die if we get caught . . .”

“Give me your life and I’ll give you mine,” you whispered. Hange tilted their chin and gently pressed their lips against yours. You followed Hange’s tender rhythm. You affectionately cupped one of Hange’s cheeks and leaned into them. They pulled your waist into their hips and you whimpered. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt a tingle and warmth spread through your body. You will always remember this moment with Hange by the river. The secret that will stay between the two of you.

And the man watching.

next chapter Chapter 17: Garden of Rabbits

chapter index masterlist

[paigenoelchas-blog]

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Meet-Cute

Jake had never been good at giving gifts. The loss of his mother at an early age deprived him of learning many skills required for such a task. Every time the need came up, he thought about what to buy and ordered it online only to rethink the gift before it even arrived. Often he bought two or three items and rejected them all, instead purchasing a gift card. He knew it was impersonal, but at least they could get what they wanted.

His lack of confidence in this area was the only time he felt ill-equipped to conquer anything that was directed at him. Jake had succeeded in foster care despite many years of torment. He learned at an early age that he had a knack for computers. Despite the fact that he had been socially awkward, he managed to find friends and a place among the misfits as well as the popular kids. Jake had earned scholarships to several of the most prestigious schools in America and even a couple overseas.

It was Jake's last year in college when he had a dream job lined up upon graduation and a small group of close friends when a strange text popped up on his phone, one that changed everything. He had a sister, two in fact. Apparently, the women had tracked him down in an effort to develop a relationship. They were older, though not by much. Hannah, the oldest had been the one to contact him first. She was sweet and lovely. He liked her instantly. They talked like they had known each other for their entire lives. Lily was the oldest and at first, she was quiet and distrustful having no idea who Jake was or what effect he could have on her or her sister. Jake understood. They had both put in work at developing a friendship and an eventual love for each other.

This Christmas was the right time to meet them. It had been two years of almost daily texts and a handful of video chats. The siblings needed to see each other in person and the women agreed when he brought up the subject. He would travel to Duskwood, a small town in Massachusetts to meet them in two weeks.

Jake wanted to see them, look into their eyes, and find similarities in their being. He couldn't wait to give them a hug, to remember what it felt like to be part of a family. It was something that he hadn't felt since his mother passed when he was ten. Something that he didn't think he needed or wanted or missed until they came along.

His sisters, Hannah and Lily, had just sent the text confirming the date of the trip. He had booked a flight a few days early in order to get a feel for the town and relieve some of the awkwardness that would inevitably be a part of their first meeting. While he was confident in their meeting and in his ability to adapt and be likable, he also knew that he needed some time to prepare for the emotions that would undoubtedly surface.

He also needed to bring gifts and these could not be gift cards. The idea that he had to come up with something wonderful for them was imposing and unfortunate. So, when he walked into the shop on the corner, his head hung a little lower than usual and his feet drug along the ground as if his body was trying to retreat.

He slugged around the store touching a few things here and there, but not really noticing much. He regarded a lovely set of gloves and picked them up just to set them down again quickly. He noticed a candle that was particularly fragrant and sighed without even leaning in to take in the candle's scent completely. He rubbed a bit of fabric on a lavender dress as he walked past. His eyes barely took in the sight of it.

It took a moment before Jake lifted his eyes to see all of the things around him. When he did, he noticed that the store was light and filled with warmth. Soft sage paint swathed the room in color and vibrancy, but somehow still had a calming effect. The shop's location on the corner allowed a great deal of light to flow in from the outside and though it was winter and quite dreary somehow everything in this place made him feel comfortable and somehow surrounded by warmth.

The clothing was placed as if in a showroom rather than a small shop, hanging from various racks with ample space between them. Gold-edged floor-length mirrors flanked the walls and eclectic gold and white tables and shelves held a myriad of accessories, from the basic black to the most vibrant of hues. Jake had no idea where to start and was about to walk out when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Sir? Can I help you find something?" Spinning around, Jake landed his gaze on the most beautiful green eyes that he had ever seen. Something happened to him that had never happened before--he couldn't think of a thing to say. Could he admit that she may be the something that he was hoping to find? No, he could not. Instead, he tried to find a way to keep her talking a little longer and get those gifts he was after. Though, at the moment, he couldn't decipher which task was the most important.

Finally realizing that he had been standing in silence simply staring at her and those gorgeous eyes, he cleared his throat, "I may actually need some help. I have to find the perfect gifts, but I have no idea what I am doing or where to begin. I have many skills, but shopping is not one of them." He lowered his head without failing to notice how her long honey-colored hair spun in curls around her shoulders and the way that her smile peeked out of her vermilion lips.

"Perfect gifts," she spoke in a conspiratorial way and took his hand, pulling him to the back of the shop, "are exactly why I am here. I was made to help handsome men, such as yourself, find the best gift for the people they care about." Confidence and sunshine oozed out of her.

Usually, her perky attitude would have frustrated him, but the wink that she gave him and the way she grabbed his hand unabashedly provoked and intrigued him.

"So you think I am handsome?" Jake asked, prodding her.

"You know that you are," she smiled. He was both proud of the compliment and embarrassed that he had asked, She continued without pause, "but we have a task to accomplish. Who are you buying a gift for?"

As she spoke, she directed him to a mismatched pair of chairs, one a rich tan leather and the other an uncompromising buttery velvet. These two chairs shouldn't belong together, but when they sat around the ornate table everything seemed to match.

He pondered meeting such a person in a place like this. She was beautiful, but she was also more than that. She was inviting and warm. Her clothes were vibrant and alive, but her aura was calm and gentle. He hadn't known so many things could define one person.

Jake had been thinking for a bit, thinking about her and this place that was so different from the world outside He had been thinking a little too long when he thought he should answer before she believed him to be a lunatic. "The gifts are for my sisters, whom I have never met. I have been talking to them for the last couple of years and..."

"Wait," she interrupted and leaned in, clearly intrigued, "you have never met your sisters?"

He was pleased that she was interested and wanted to chat a bit. He decided to push things a little further, "I am fine with the personal questions, but I need to know your name first."

"What a cheap way to find out my name. You get me all interested and then refuse to divulge more information. Tricky. I will tell you if you tell me your name first." She winked, but he knew that he would tell her anything that she asked for.

"Jacob...Jake," he stuttered.

"I am Macie, nice to meet you, Jake," Her voice was softer as she spoke. Their eyes met for a moment and then as if she had to pull away, she brought the formality back to her voice and said, "Now about those sisters?"

He explained the situation and when they decided to meet. He explained how he stumbled on this store and how she was his only hope for a stress-free meeting. She listened intently, her emerald eyes focused wholly on him. He could feel her interest, both in his story and in his person. The tension between them had become palpable. She leaned in closer as he spoke and he found himself mimicking her posture in response.

They were in a world entirely their own when she broke the repose, "You, Sir, are very interesting aren't you?" She stood up and walked across the room, touching his shoulder as she passed him. "You sit right there. I think I have the perfect things for Hannah and Lily."

He was impressed that she remembered their names. He was impressed by everything he knew of her. She flitted around the store occasionally asking what colors Hannah would like or if he had noticed anything in the background on the video chats? She even asked how he liked his coffee, though Jake didn't see the importance of that question.

He answered her questions but offered nothing in the way of help except a focused gaze that followed her as she flitted around from table to table and rack to rack filling some impressive baskets with personal selections. She had a lovely figure and a butt that he could only dream of getting his hands on. Jake knew that she was aware of his admiration and she flaunted it. She was unashamed.

He had completely lost track of time when she placed one basket and then the other on the table in front of him and returned to her velvet chair. On her way to her throne, the smell of her floral perfume met his nose. It filled his senses and his brain with thoughts that he was having a hard time reeling in.

"What do you think?" Macie asked, eager to hear his opinion.

Words stumbled out before he had the chance to think. "You are beautiful...I mean... What are you asking?... the presents?" He could feel the heat rise on his cheeks and pinched his arm hoping to squelch the red quickly forming on his cheeks.

She smiled and he forgot himself for a moment. Then just as quickly, he managed to pull his focus off of her and onto the baskets that she had prepared. They were incredible and filled with several items of clothing, as well as scarves and mittens, lotions, and candles. Each basket was a little different and met the unique interests of each woman. He would have never been able to pull off such wonderful creations.

He touched a few items and admired the thoughtful and skilled gifts that she had presented. "They are exactly perfect." He wanted to say more, to tell her that she was indeed also exactly perfect as far as he could tell and that he had to see her again and not in such a place but rather on a proper date, with flowers to match the blush of her cheeks and candles to make the light dance in her eyes. He couldn't say those things of course. He settled on "It is amazing that you made these based off of a fifteen-minute conversation."

"I told you that you were interesting. I hung on your every word." She met his eyes and gave a shy smile. "I have been doing this for a couple of years professionally and many years before that. I have always been good at shopping and fitting the right gift for the right person. My friends always had me do their Christmas shopping."

He admired her confidence. Most people didn't acknowledge the things that they could do well. Somehow that made her all the more attractive to him.

"Indeed. I may have to make you my own personal shopper. You have only worked here a couple of years?" Jake asked, trying to keep the conversations alive.

"You could say that." She offered nothing more. There was something in her voice that made him aware that there was more to her answer, but he wasn't ready to dig deeper just yet.

"I don't think I can repay you for relieving the stress I felt when I walked in here today. Meeting my sisters will be much easier now." He spoke in earnest.

"I am just glad to help," she paused. "Are you headed there now...to meet your sisters, I mean?"

"No, I arrived in town early. I wanted to have some time to buy gifts and relax a little, settle into the town that may become very important to me. I mean, if my sisters are here, I may be around more often." He wanted to tell her that she would also be a reason for this town's importance, but he wouldn't say that, not yet."

They walked up to the register, and as he paid, he inspected the store once more and thought of how inviting it was, and how much that was like Macie. He noticed the quality and individuality that each item inspired. He thought how very much it represented her welcoming and warm sensibilities. This was the perfect place for her and she was the perfect person to be here.

"How long did you say that you worked here?" He asked impulsively.

I opened the place two years ago today." She spoke with pride, She should be proud, he thought. Owning something that was an extension of yourself was an enormous accomplishment.

"This place is yours?" He asked though it was more of a realization rather than a question.

"Yes, and a loving testament to my mother, she passed three years ago and this was our dream. We were going to open this place together." Her voice faded a little as she mentioned her mother.

He nodded at the reminder of his own mother and what he had lost so long ago. "I am sorry for your loss. She must have been an incredible woman."

"She was...in every way. I think I was the lucky one to get to love her." She paused then shook off the storm in her eyes and added, "You know, I did do a lot for you today." A crooked smile crossed her face, "I thought of a way that you could repay me."

He wanted to scream out that he was willing to repay her in any way that she asked, but those words did not escape. "Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Buy me a cup of coffee in that diner over there. I don't think I have had my fill of talking to you."

"Coffee? I can do better than that. What would you think if I brought you a cup of coffee now and then picked you up for dinner when the shop closes."

She smiled openly now, the most gorgeous smile that he had seen, "I would accept that as a form of repayment."

He laughed. She grabbed his phone and typed in her number.

"Just in case you have to cancel, or if you change your mind about dinner."

"That won't happen, but I suppose I would like to call you for other reasons." He got the chance to wink at her for once.

"I suppose that would be a desirable option." She looked down as if embarrassed by his retort.

They said their goodbyes with smiles and quick glances, both excited about the plans for the evening. As he took his packages to the car, he realized that he felt lighter than he had in weeks.

He still hated shopping, but he sure liked this store and the woman inside. Who knew that something he hated so much could lead him to something he so desired maybe something that he even needed?

Smiling, he picked up the phone, found Macie's number, and texted.

J: What kind of coffee do you drink?

He had not forgotten about his promise and he sure wasn't going to break one to her.

M: Surprise me. I bet you will guess it right.

A slight chuckle escaped from his lips as he headed across the street to the diner. While she was incredibly intuitive and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to surprise her, something told him that he was going to keep trying for a very long time.

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This story was inspired by some fellow writers who are having a bit of a hard time getting back into the writing business. Thank you to those who push me to keep going and thanks to all who read it. I appreciate all the minutes that you have spent reading something that I wrote.