#chet was SO GOOD here

[strawbie-doodle]

havent drawn all of them in a WHILE ✸

[the-halfling-prince]

The B plot of the bmw season 3 episode Stormy Weather (you know, where Mr Turner, and Shawn's gf's mom decide to date) is like funny as a concept but also every time Shawn and Dana do that "oh no if they date we'll be step siblings!" thing it makes me lose my goddamn mind. Y'all know me, y'all know I'm obsessed with the Jonathan Being Shawn's Dad™ thing, and that episode really went "uhhh duh obviously Shawn sees Jonathan as his dad" like why did they do that to meeeeeeeeeeeee

[ghoulhusband]

i’m going to bed early (well not early but early for me) but before i do i was thinking about the 2000 cap entry fee to vegas and how much i love mods that make everything worth a very, very small amount of money. because the mojave economy being absolutely fucking wrecked is something that i don’t think gets touched on enough. sure, you as the player are making money hand over fist in the base game, but everyone else is so, so broke in all the small towns you visit along the way. good armor for a whole town is a 1000 cap investment according to chet, who’s pretty obviously exaggerating, but say he’s right?

that means the bighorner hides, the most valuable thing these people have (aside from water,) AFTER being processed into leather, which is an huge amount of labor hours, is worth 111 caps, if we use the 9 npcs in game.

but say you used a higher number, like how many people there probably would be in a really really small town. 45-60 people, let’s say. 22-17 caps per armor. and the credit check to get into vegas—not even to have a good time, to be able to afford everything, but just to get in—is 2000 caps. now sure, maybe the people in goodsprings have more caps saved away, but this is one of their main exports. they maybe have two or three times that much money lying around, if they’re lucky. if we can extrapolate that to the other towns (which are honestly probably worse off because most of them aren’t producing anything anywhere near as valuable as food, water and leather,) that means that in most of the mojave, the people actually doing the labor have between 17% and .09% of the money needed to get into vegas, depending on how big we inflate the number of people in each town.

so if no one has much money, then the towns are probably operating on the barter system, and then it’s 5 caps for x thing if you really have to pay. which is great for them in theory, i’m very pro bartering, but there’s a lot of resources in the area they’re clearly not benefitting from. where are they going? well, quite a lot of the ncr soldiers, even with the shitty caps to paper money conversion rate, have enough money to pass the credit check. they take their paycheck and they hit the strip. now maybe they get a special exemption, but i’m inclined to think they don’t, because that makes no sense. house is in it to make money, he wouldn’t make an exception for most of his customer base. so if the average soldier in the ncr saves their money, they’re making upwards of $5k per paycheck (ncr dollars are worth about 40% the face value of caps.)

that’s SO crunchy. like i’ve thought about this before because it’s a key part of the narrative, but i never sat down and did the math before. like if we use 2k caps as a sort of middle class line, just to do some real world comparison, let’s say that 2k caps savings makes you middle class, which is about consistent with real world usd figures, then you probably make about 60k caps per year (that’s the median middle class salary per person in the u.s. right now.) so all these people from the ncr are making $150k a year in ncr dollars.

if the ncr dollar ever became worth 100% of the face value of a cap, the average person in the ncr (who aren’t part of the prison labor system, or the other exploited classes in the imperial hub, which is a separate point,) are equal in wealth to upper middle class people from the u.s., today, by our scale. now, maybe that number is skewed because only the middle class ncr citizens can make it to new vegas. totally possible. that still means the foot soldiers of an occupying army are making an insane amount of money compared to their real world counterparts (in the u.s. enlisted soldiers make between $24k-43k.) while the average person from the mojave has between 17 and 333 dollars in the bank account. those are really specific numbers but you know what i mean. if you have under $1k in savings in the real world you’re in economic jeopardy. much less if you have $17. if we extrapolate yearly income from those numbers, the people with the largest amount of money saved (333 caps or thereabouts) are making 10,200 caps per year. which is below the severe poverty line in the real world. the person with $17 would be making about 566 caps per year. vs. 150k. the ncr is just destroying the fucking economy and house is so complicit in that. it’s such a killer detail that the amount of money that’s being extracted from the region is astronomically high compared to the living costs of every day people, and the only one who’s really seeing any of that money without tons of strings attached is house. who can’t fucking use any of it for anything beyond exerting more control over the region and finding the platinum chip. see: he spent 812,545 caps looking for it in one year alone.

[oldtvlover]

Hey guys,

so I was busy again with another little series of mine. *grins*

Here we have as I’d call it Johnny the ‘Genius‘ - series when he comes up with a good idea, even approved by anyone, yet it backfires dramatically. Ouch!

I so love that last look of Johnny! Typical Oliver Hardy. lol

And Cap’s ones are also good. Oh boy!

[chet-ho7mgren]

The feminine urge to pat him on the head and call him a good boy 🥺🥰

[miniy00ng1]

Not Yours pt.2

Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader

wc: 2239 (not proofread yet!)

warnings: swearing, fighting, lmk if i missed anything

find part one here my masterlist here

Hi lovelies! While writing I realized that this was going to be more than two parts like i had originally thought it would be. but regardless i hope you enjoy and don't forget to give me feedback! pls ignore and grammar errors! thank you <3

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

“Welcome mi familia to my home away from home. My dearest Hotel Obsidian.” Klaus introduces, arms spread wide and breathing in the musty glory of the hotel. “Oh how I’ve missed her. Lookie who’s here! Mon frère Chet! How are you? We need your finest rooms good sir!” Chet places a sign on the table cash up front. The group of super siblings empty their pockets managing to gather enough for two rooms. 

“So what’s our next move you guys? Because the Sparrows can attack at any given moment. I know I would.” Diego asks, anxious to kick some more ass. Luther turns towards Diego, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Diego, just relax man. They’re not coming, they’re going to need a couple of days to recover with the way we left them.” “You really think so?” Diego asks hopefully, at this moment you peek around Luther’s body into Diego’s view and shake you head, sliding you thumb slowly across your neck. Five notices you trying to rile Diego up and drags you to the elevator.

“First, I get kidnapped. And now I have to bunk in the boys room. Just kill me now.” Y/N complains as she is forced into the room being shared between four men. “You can complain all you want Y/N, but I have to keep an eye on you, so deal with it.” Five huffs taking a seat on the lower bunk bed. You roll your eyes, “There are only four beds in here dipshit and five of us. Where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” Five smirks at you, putting his hands behind his head and fully reclining on the bed as you make a gagging sound.

The other three brothers enter the room shortly after and begin to discuss how there are now other versions of themselves out in the world. Your curiosity gets the best of you, “What was you guys’ version of me like? Everyone seems to like her so much better, she couldn’t have been that great.” The men all speak at once listing all of the good qualities other you had such as her kindness, or her mindfulness, or her hopefulness. You jokingly smile extra big and say, “Doesn’t she just sound like a ray of sunshine.” The rest of the night is uneventful as everyone is exhausted from the events that occurred earlier. 

That night, you end up taking the bottom bunk and Five sleeps on the floor next to it. The morning sun shines directly into eyes, disturbing your slumber. As you wake up and try to adjust your eyes, you feel a pressure on your hand. Lifting your head from the pillow, you glance over the edge of the bed and see a slumbering Five holding your hand–warmth spreads across your face. You quickly snatch your hand out of his grip, startling Five awake, he immediately scans the room for any threats. Five furrows his eyebrows once he makes eyes contact with you. No words are exchanged between the two of you as you get out of the bed and head towards the bathroom down the hall.

While freshening up in the bathroom, Y/N takes note of everyone in the restroom. There’s an elderly lady, a woman in her late 40s that looks like she’s done every drug on planet earth–twice, and a tan woman with a young boy standing behind her. The woman stares at you as if you’re familiar with one another. “What the hell are you looking at lady?” You says while drying your hands. The woman laughs in disbelief, “No fucking way.” You raise your eyebrows at the lady and exit the communal bathroom, startled to find Five dressed in a suit and waiting for you. “This entire hotel is full of freaks.”

The two of you take a seat at the table joining Klaus and Diego. The table covered in boxes of Chinese takeout, Five hands you a container and chopsticks, “Eat up, you must be starving.” You nod your head as a thank you and dig into the noodles. The siblings discuss their next course of action, if they have to fight the Sparrows to get the briefcase back or stay in the timeline. Across from you, something has caught Diego’s eye as he abruptly drops his food and rushes away from the table. You turn your body to see where he’s run off to and see Diego chasing the woman from the bathroom.

Diego returns to his seat five minutes later wih a young boy who claims to be his son. Not a single one of the Hargreeves at the table question the legitimacy of the relation. “So if you’re his dad..Is that blonde lady his mom?” You question, not seeing the resemblance at all. Diego nods in confirmation, “She claims he’s my son and that lady, is Lila. You two have met, she tried to murder us like two days ago.” “Two things Buddy. One, I am not your Y/N. And two, you’re an idiot. No wonder she tried to kill you.” You say, piecing the missing information together.

A short haired Vanya approaches the siblings. “Wow Vanya! I am loving the haircut! It really suits you!” Klaus calls out, admiring the new style. “Oh, it’s actually Viktor.” Viktor says awkwardly. The brothers glance at each other before Diego speaks up, “Who is?” “I am, always have been.” Viktor confirms. “Does anybody have a problem with that?” Everyone at the table shakes their head no and congratulates Viktor. “Look, I met with Marcus last night he agreed to give us the briefcase in exchange for Y/N. He says he doesn’t want to start a war.” You sit up straight at the mention of the trade.

Five’s face hardens at Viktor’s statement, “Absolutely not Viktor. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this timeline in perfectly acceptable, there are no apocalypses or psychopaths coming after us. And last time I checked, you don’t speak for this family. There won’t be any unnecessary trades. Especially not if they include Y/N.” “You’re wrong Five. We don’t belong here. Allison is miserable, her own daughter doesn’t exist and you’re holding Y/N hostage just because she looks like your Y/N!” Viktor argues back. Five seethes in Viktor’s face, “I said no.” Five drags you off the chair forcing you to follow him. You hear footsteps chase after the two of you, “Five! Five wait up!” Five stops, still holding onto your wrist as Klaus catches up. “You two sure move quick for such little legs. Anywho…how would you two like to join me on a little roadtrip? We can relax and cruise the open road, it’ll be a grand ole time!” Five agrees to go with Klaus against your wishes.

Leaning against the car, you scan Five’s figure, “Like what you see?” Five says cockily, smiling at you. “That is the ugliest outfit I have ever seen. Genuinely, you should burn that for the sake of everyone else. And take that stupid hat off, you’re embarassing me. What did I ever see in you.” Five’s smile drops but before he can make a rebuttal Klaus skips over towards the car, “Let’s go bitches! This is going to be so much fun!” It was not fun by any means. Thirty minutes into the drive, Klaus and Five start arguing due to the fact that Klaus tricked Five into coming to meet his birth mother because he was scared to do it alone. 

“You were scared? So you brought me along like an emotional support schnauzer?” “I would say you’re more like a little cute, feisty chihuahua.” You say mindlessly. Five turns and glares at you, you’re certain he’s picturing murdering you in his mind. The fighting goes on for a little longer before the boys make up at the big ball of twine. Soon enough, you guys arrive at a farm where Klaus’ mother is supposedly living. Five tells Klaus that this is something he has to face alone and that he’ll stay with the car. 

Five moves the car to the side of the road and turns on a radio station playing songs from the 60s. He then exits the car just to open the rear door, “Scoot over, I want to stretch out my legs and do my crossword.” “You are such an old man. I don’t know how I could be into that.” You say while scooting over to make room for the teen. Five slides in next to you ensuring that his body is facing yours, “I’ll have you know that I have a lot of redeeming qualities that you loved. Not to mention, I’m a sweet talker Darling.” Five brushes his hand against your cheek, holding eye contact with you. Five’s green eyes are intense as you stare back noting the specks of blue in them. “I know, it’s hard to look away from them right?” Five winks at you finally breaking eye contact and sitting back, attention back on his newspaper. You blink rapidly trying to process what had occurred between the two of you.

Suddenly, a pulse rushes through the car shaking it as it passes. Five immediately sits up, hand gripping yours as he scans the area for signs of danger. You two exit the car, still holding hands. “Five? Where’d the cows go?” You question pointing towards the previously filled farmland which was now completely vacant. “Damnit can’t I get just one day off?” Five sighs throwing his hands in the air. The teenage boy gets to working on equations trying to figure out what he and his siblings fucked up now. In the distance, you hear a faint yell. A few seconds later comes Klaus with an angry Amish mob chasing after him, “Start the car! We’ve got to go now!” The three of you clamber into the car and speed off.

Klaus tells Five his findings and experience with the Amish and how his mother died before he was born. Five stomps on the breaks, causing you to fly forward, “We are so fucked. We’ve created the Grandfather Paradox.”

Once back at Hotel Obsidian Five takes you with him to find Lila. Her son, Stanley, tells you that she’s in the women’s restroom. Five is about to enter before you stop him, “Hey perv, this is the ladies room. Let me go.” You spot Lila in the bath and wave at her, “Y/N! Long time no see. Well actually, I guess you’ve never met me before but…I know you. And I can’t stand you just as much as I hate your husband.” Lila throws a knife in your direction and you are about to move out of the way when you feel a rush of air as you are blinked across the room.

You pull out of Five’s grip, “I can handle myself Five. And he is not my husband!” Lila approaches the two of you fully nude, “If you lovebirds are done with your couples quarrel. I’d love to get this over with.” Five and Lila fight and blink around the bathroom–you never knew two people could have the same powers. Lila manages to knock Five off of his feet, she then blinks to you and punches. You duck down, narrowly avoiding her fist. You sweep your leg at her feet aiming to knock her down. Lila lands on her back and you use your powers to transform into Luther in order to have an advantage, size and strength-wise. You swing your arms up in the air readying to pummel the woman into the ground. Lila mimics your power also transforming into Luther–your eyes widen as you realize what her powers are. Lila pulls her legs to her stomach before kicking them out, launching her legs into your stomach. You fly back, groaning as you land on a sink and breaking it off the wall. Curse Luther and his stupidly big monkey body.

Five has recovered and catches Lila off guard by slamming his body into hers. While distracted he squirts her in the face with soap, “Okay! Fuck! That’s enough!” Lila calls out, wiping the soap out of her stinging eyes. Five blinks over to you as Luther, “Y/N? Are you okay?” You transform back into your teenage self, accepting Five’s outstretched hand, “Never been better.” After making sure you were okay, Five grabs the briefcases from Lila’s possession. They were of course broken and the two decided that they would use their powers to travel to the Commision.

“We can’t bring her, we barely have enough power to bring ourselves.” Lila states motioning towards you. Five looks at you trying to figure out where to put you for the time being. Five walks you to his brother Diego, “I need you to watch her. I’ve got things to do and she can’t come with.” “What the hell? No! I’ve already got one little shit to take care of. I don’t need another.” You scoff at the conversation between the men, “I can hear you guys, you know?” They both ignore you. “Just make them watch each other, I don’t know. Figure it out, I’ve got to go.” Five walks off quickly with his hands in his pocket. Diego looks at you and rubs his face, “Stanley! Get your ass over here and come meet your Auntie!”

part three

taglist:

@ohmyitsfaith

[tiamathh]

Your life in a parallel universe?

Note: Hi! Tysm for the person who left this idea in the suggestions form <3 if anyone wants you can send ideas here: FORM as well! Take care and Like and Rb if you enjoy!

♡ Masterlist ♡

Pile 1

Hi Pile 1! Your life in a parallel universe is filled with learning, you may be an academician or a "guru" of sorts. You may live in seclusion, preferring your own space and having a lot of books especially on the occult, you could also be very committed to spreading knowledge and could have apprentices. Your job may be related to spirituality and magik as well, where you could help people out through rituals and communication with deities. You may have to face a lot of obstacles and could also face troubles with fatigue, especially recovering from spiritual fatigue that can manifest physically. You may not have a lot of luxury or money, but you will be content, satisfied and happy with your life, you will also be extremely knowledgeable.

There will be A LOT of good people in your life, ones on the same wavelength as you who you can rely on, and a lot of romance too. You may have like a lifelong partner, like the first person you date turns into the person you spend the rest of your life with. You could have a fear of travel and prefer staying where you are, you could live on the outskirts of some town or the countryside, somewhere with a lot of nature where you can essentially grow your own food and stuff, all natural here, living with what the earth gives you, does not mean you will like abandon society or technology or anything you will just like living from the earth and in nature. Talking about your love life because it seems very prominent here, you and your partner will be similar in so many ways and have businesses together, probably online like tarot, reiki, etc and your partner will be extremely optimistic and strong and charming!

Song: That old feeling - Chet Baker

Pile 2

Hello Pile 2~ In a parallel universe, you are probably at the top of the career ladder and living a life of luxury and fame. Not only do you have anything you could ask for materially, you also hold a lot of power over people, which could sometimes make you a little bit arrogant. In general, you will be a social butterfly and almost like a socialite where you run in circles with famous wealthy people as well. You may have gotten the success through a startup or idea you came up with on your own during a time of feeling lost and directionless, a true rags-to-riches type story. Your belief, originality and slight recklessness with your leaps of faith that brought you there. In a parallel universe, you are impatient and impulsive, but your intellect and charge pulls you out of any mess you may find yourself in. You are a spendthrift and want nothing but the best from life because you can afford it and will be very worldly, travelling whenever you can.

You may retire early and let someone else deal with the workload while you can spend your time seeing the world, experiencing new cultures and new food, especially. Moreover, you may have a lot of friends who you can have fun with, but they could also be overly ambitious, the kind of people who will look for others weaknesses to exploit them, leading to you having to be cautious around them. You may have a lot of flings and romantic rendezvous' but you may feel a lack of connection when it comes to having long term romantic partners. You are also very courageous with the decisions you make, and could love extreme sports like paragliding and bungee jumping and stuff. Lastly you may not have the best relations with your family because you could have cut or minimised contact with them in this universe.

Song: The Leaders - ATEEZ

Pile 3

Hey Pile 3 my star pile (literally)! In a parallel universe you are definitely in the public eye, probably as an artist or performer. You may have a lot of fame and reputation and live a life of thrill, there could be drugs and alcohol involved as well, and you may feel like you have to depend on them to be able to fully unleash your potential as an artist. You are rich but also charitable, I'm getting for some of you guys it's because your PR manager wants you photographed while doing charity to improve your reputation with fans and potential collaborators. Although you will feel fulfilled because you can share your art with the world, you won't feel satisfied because you may feel stuck having to cater to an audience or the people around you and could often feel lonely and left out from the bigger picture, feeling like if you make any changes to your art or style, or start experimenting, people will abandon you, and you will have a fall from grace leading to a downhill spiral.

Parallel universe you is stressed and anxious about their future even though they are good at saving and may be good at investing as well, however they don't get to spend enough time with their friends and family which may lead to feelings of unhappiness. You are also very emotionally mature and connected with how you feel I just keep seeing water flowing, in a parallel universe you go with the flow, even if you are anxious and stressed you will just let it be and ignore it with a staunch belief that at the end of the day things will be okay. You may have an older feminine energy in your life to help you through everything, this may be like an older sister figure and could be with you through thick and thin. Your romantic life could be lacking because you may not feel confident enough in your ability to be committed to someone.

Song: Need you Now - Lady A

[sanguineterrain]

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot. 

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool. 

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night. 

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees. 

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora. 

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them. 

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep. 

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him. 

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head. 

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat. 

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.” 

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him. 

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you. 

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?" 

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it. 

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says. 

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say. 

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask. 

That turns his cheeks pinker. 

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923." 

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours. 

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile. 

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing. 

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt." 

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge. 

"Your hair is wavy," you observe. 

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face. 

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?" 

"Is it poisoned?" 

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much. 

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks. 

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe. 

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat. 

"Uh, th-thanks," he says. 

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change. 

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks. 

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours. 

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says. 

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you. 

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes. 

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly. 

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour." 

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun. 

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks. 

"Why would she pick me up?" 

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply. 

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again. 

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade. 

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink. 

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass. 

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts. 

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number. 

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up. 

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers. 

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still. 

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent. 

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing. 

"Good penmanship," you say. 

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile. 

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill. 

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through. 

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips. 

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face. 

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother. 

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour. 

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept. 

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world. 

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt. 

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat. 

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk. 

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him. 

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb. 

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly. 

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes." 

"Undoubtedly," you say. 

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks. 

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him." 

"I believe it," says Max. 

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks. 

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse. 

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says. 

You wonder if Steve would agree. 

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say. 

Max acquiesces with a hum. 

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block. 

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead. 

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve. 

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee. 

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max. 

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier. 

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you. 

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup. 

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay." 

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what. 

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching. 

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream. 

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says. 

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her. 

"Robin." 

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says. 

"We know," Max tells him. 

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say. 

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you. 

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask. 

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over. 

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley." 

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…" 

Robin snickers. Max smirks. 

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says. 

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes. 

"Have some class, will you?" she says. 

"I'm classy!" Steve insists. 

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter." 

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say. 

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Gummy worms?” 

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.” 

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed. 

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror. 

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can. 

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin. 

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone. 

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons. 

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze. 

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers. 

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves. 

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy. 

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks. 

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest. 

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?" 

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles. 

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything. 

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet. 

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem. 

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk. 

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees. 

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say. 

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?” 

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile. 

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says. 

“I’m nervous,” you confess. 

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks. 

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister. 

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important. 

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt. 

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn. 

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates. 

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open. 

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up. 

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately. 

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch. 

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath. 

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm. 

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then." 

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing. 

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified. 

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck. 

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand. 

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve. 

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?” 

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding. 

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say. 

His cheeks turn pink again. 

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek. 

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?" 

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says. 

"Dude," Steve hisses. 

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie. 

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.  

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?" 

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate." 

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird. 

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand." 

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers. 

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin. 

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails. 

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat. 

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant. 

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger." 

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids. 

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?" 

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it. 

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger. 

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt." 

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”  

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it. 

"Your hair has product," you observe. 

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks. 

"Especially mine." 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting. 

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks. 

"I like it as well as anybody else."  

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile. 

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot. 

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask. 

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come." 

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends. 

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say. 

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath. 

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party. 

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible. 

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love. 

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch. 

"But you love Brett," you'd said. 

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around. 

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same. 

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later. 

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer. 

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet. 

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand. 

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say. 

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do. 

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else. 

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out. 

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip. 

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol. 

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it. 

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned. 

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded. 

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you. 

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard. 

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny. 

"Debbie would've told me," you say. 

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe." 

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth. 

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab. 

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria. 

"Hello?" 

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands. 

"Uh, hello? Who is this?" 

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks. 

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."  

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?" 

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?" 

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody." 

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt. 

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small. 

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest. 

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms. 

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall. 

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo. 

"My knight," you say. 

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending." 

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly. 

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey." 

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that." 

"Do you really?" 

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home." 

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark. 

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say. 

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady. 

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks. 

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke. 

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him. 

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing. 

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition. 

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all. 

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out. 

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence. 

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May. 

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate. 

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side. 

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe. 

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves. 

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve. 

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes. 

"Making every man mad." 

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair. 

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say. 

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased." 

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you. 

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave." 

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?" 

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them." 

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt. 

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks. 

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair. 

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says. 

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin. 

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve. 

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue. 

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume." 

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say. 

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again." 

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest. 

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail. 

Steve turns to you and smiles softly. 

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law." 

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time. 

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard. 

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not. 

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers. 

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops. 

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?" 

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows. 

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you." 

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair. 

“Buttercup?” 

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember. 

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say. 

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper. 

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist. 

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in. 

Dustin shrieks. 

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter. 

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle. 

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”

[its-your-mind]

fuckin shit I'm just so glad Dorian's back!! he just slots back in so easily bc he was there when they started and he's been a lingering part of them this whole time! he was the one who Chetney started tormenting first when he first joined up! and none of the rest of them are as fun to torment for him as dorian has always been for both chet AND ashton. ash just gets to be dumb and joke at dorian because dorian always takes it with grace but also is kinda a shit about it. imogen of COURSE noticed Dorian’s new look, because the two of them have ALWAYS been on the same page about the importance of how you choose to show yourself to the world, and BOY OH BOY she can get up to so much more charisma mischief now that her partner-in-lies is back. and laudna has immediately started once again delightedly horrifying him with her various dead things and he is delighted and ALSO horrified bc he loves her so much and fearne who LOVES HIM and finally has one of her people BACK WHERE SHE CAN SEE HIM which is so so important and good. and of course ORYM. Orym is smiling and he seems more relaxed and I know he loves all of the Hells so very much but like. ya know how when you've been away from Your Person for a long time and then they're there again and it's like you finally are able to be relaxed? and it doesn't matter how safe and relaxed you were before, because there was always something missing and then all of a sudden it's not missing anymore and everything is just. better. and something that’s been tight inside of you finally loosens. because your world was wrong, and now it’s all right again. and so Orym is less tense, he’s taking up more physical space, his smiles come faster, his laughs come easier, his emotions aren’t set on a four second delay behind his duty and so they show on his face as he’s feeling them.

and yes, everything is horrible. fcg should be here for this. dorian has just lost so much, and he’s coming to tell fearne and orym that they’ve lost people too. but at the same time…

all of that is easier to bear. because they’re together again. there is still an empty hole where fcg should be, but at least it’s not side-by-side with the space the Hells have been holding open as they waited for the winds of fate to finally guide their bard back where he belonged.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Rip Cheato

Debut: Paper Mario

Hello! I am glad you made it. You are just in time, because some guy is here. He's here looking for You! He wants to sell you a Dried Mushroom for 64 coins. Will you buy it? It's not a good deal, but consider this: he has a sort of lamp antenna growing from his scalp. I think that is pretty cool, personally.

He probably makes good use of his lamptenna, since he lives in the sewer. I bet a Sewer Man would know his fungus! Maybe his Dried Mushrooms are impeccable. Maybe he even dries them with his lamp. Don't be judgemental, now. Don't judge someone because his name is derived from "ripoff" and "cheat". Are you the kind of person who would immediately assume someone smells bad, just because their name is Poop Fartley? You better not be. Rip Cheato's name is a little deceiving because while he does sell junk for 64 coins, if you buy what he offers, he'll also sell Star Pieces for 64 coins, and Hoo-Wee! That's a Hot Commodity! I trust him. I think he's just being cheeky for fun.

Name: Chet Rippo

Debut: Paper Mario

Now this guy is whuzzah! What's the deal with this guy! Rip Cheato is weird, true, being strangely human in a game where those are quite limited, but he has a theme going on. He looks like a Sewer Man. Now here we have Chet Rippo, who is some sort of alien platypus clown umbrella? I don't know what he is, but I think it is absolutely splendid. To quote an ancient philosopher:

"Sometimes in life, there is a weird guy." -Opabinia

If I didn't know any better, I might think Chet Rippo would appear from a UFO or circus tent or perhaps a dimensional portal. He doesn't! He just hangs out in Toad Town. He's a weird guy, but a weird guy is still a guy, you know? Except this is no normal guy because he can alter Mario's abilities! For 39 coins he will raise Marios HP, FP, or BP by two points, but- and this is important- he says "heh heh". That means he's shady! For each stat he increases, he will decrease the others each by one!

This makes Chet Rippo far stranger of a guy. Someone in real life could sell you overpriced garbage. But someone in real life altering your stats for a low price? Scary to think about! Imagine someone granting you the ability to remember twice as many bug facts as you currently can, but also making the vision in your left eye worse and making you 25% more sensitive to cold. Frightening magic! But at least the guy doing it is a funny creature.

Chet Rippo appears in The Thousand Year Door as well, but like, does he really? This is a whole different design, and it's not nearly as fun... Eyes In A Void Wizards are fun by default, and so is wearing a barrel on one's head, but this game has a bunch of Eyes In A Void Wizards, and this guy used to be one of the weirdest creatures in the entire game! To hell with this guy. Let's look at his better version again.

Look at him go! Like a flapjack octopus! His arms are even like the fluttering fins! Could he truly just be a big octopus wearing a weird hat? We may never know...

[utilitycaster]

How Funny is it for Chetney to Die on the Next Long Rest: 3x81

look folks I've given the breakdown trackers a go but while they sometimes work, they're really more an Endgame Nein vibe, to be brought out on special occasions. But I've wanted to have something similar and so, see above.

Getting this out of the way: it's always going to be fucking funny. It's going to be sad! It's also going to be funny. Tragedy is the salt of comedy and vice versa. We can acknowledge that. This is about how fucking ridiculous it will be. As such we are moving to a Sam Reich in Make Some Noise vibes-based system, to the chagrin of people who are trying to win something. Let's start:

Hilarity Considerations:

They will be on Ruidus. This is terribly inconvenient. This is the root of all comedy, as British people and everyone in a sitcom B-plot can attest.

Ashton is the only strong person in the party other than Chetney, and Percy is back at base camp, giving us the potential for us at two Taliesin Characters having to deal with the corpses of two Travis Characters in this campaign.

I'm sure there's some kind of werewolf lore joke in here that, should he die on the moon, I will put in effort to make.

Technically I think he has been made the most famous toymaker already though it might be contingent on bringing the piece back so if it's the former everyone's going to suddenly be like OH MY GOD CHETNEY POCK O'PEA DIED? and the funeral is going to be fucking lit.

Funeral on the moon, or Mooneral.

Hey Orym! deal's null and void! That's fun!

Hilarity Complications:

who the FUCK is Travis going to play in this scenario. My vote is a Ruidusborn who broke out of the compulsion. Recovering Vanguard cultist or something.

If he doesn't get his end of the bargain that is a little sad; died before he could become immortal in the way that matters.

Matt is incredibly good at rolling with the punches but personally if he was like UHHHHHHHHHH BREAK I would NOT blame him.

Bells Hells coming back with a different person and a dead body is going to be a WILD time given that the base camp war council is already kind of side-eyeing them.

I don't mind if we don't explore Chet's backstory; the reveal was enough to provide the shading and nuance. However it would be nice if the party had enough info to try to find any nieces and nephews or similarly ancient siblings.

TRAVIS DO YOU HAVE A PERCY OR VAX-ESQUE DEATH LETTER YOU FUCKING BETTER.

Forecast: 1% chance of Chetney Death; A Bloody Bridge Too Far level of hilarity.

[getosbigballsack]

OK, so here's my request. I'm craving for some influencer!gojo so here's the thing, he's doing livestream and the reader is with him, it's at the lasts 10 minutes of stream so they're answering questions about anything, like their relationship, about him or her, some gossip, whatever. But the things is, his cock is deep inside of her and every movement she makes he's gritting his teeth bc they're trying to hide it

IDK IF YOU UNDERSTOOD BUT IVE TRIED 😭 I just love your fics so much I couldn't just not request something

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝑬𝒍𝒔𝒆

𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 𝒙 𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒂𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑪𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙.

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑰𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕 (𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒖𝒑) 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐❤︎❣︎❣︎ 𝑰 𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆. (𝑷.𝑺: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕.

𝑾𝑪: 2.06𝒌

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏✯

𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚❤︎

Always expect the unexpected whenever you’re with your boyfriend Gojo Satoru. 

All you wanted was just a bit of his love and affection, while he was playing Call of Duty Modern Warfare Two with Suguru and Choso. Just a little bit of his affection because you were just in need of some little loving. 

You weren’t being needy right?

Wrong. Oh so fucking wrong. 

Your need for his affection is the reason why you were desperately biting on his shoulders at the current moment. 

You were somehow being punished for being needy, when you weren’t even being needy in the first place. 

… 

How long have you been dating y/n?

Gojo had you in his lap, caressing your back with fingers as he stared at the question that appeared in the live chat room. “Yeah, Y/N and I have been dating since high school. We’re in our final year at Toyo University. SO it’s safe to say that we’ve been dating for six.” Gojo answered as he stared down at your gaping cunt squeezing onto his dick. He bit his lips to hold in his moans, you felt so fucking good around him. 

You two have the most perfect relationship on social media and I know that I’m not the only one who believes that you two have a perfect relationship.

“Our relationship is far from perfect to be honest. We still argue from time to time,” he paused a bit and closed his eyes. He decided to hug you closer until your chet was pressing into his and now you were sharing each other’s air space. He wanted to moan so badly, but he had to hold it in, he had to. He only had a few more minutes until he could finally close out his stream and stuff your cunt full of his thick, white, creamy cum. 

“As I was saying, we argue from time to time. She’ll kick me outta the room for like an hour before coming downstairs to cuddle with me. We have our ups and down, we have our struggles. But we’re quick to solve them by either talking or having sex.”

“T… Toru,” you mumbled into his shoulder. Your voice was trembling so much, and to be honest it would have been better if you had kept your mouth shut, but God he just had to say something like that to irritate you. 

Gojo smiled, kissing the top of your head then your ears while whispering, “You’re doing so well for me. So good baby.” You allowed his praises to get to your head which caused you to release a loud moan. “Shh baby, you don’t want them to know what we’re doing now.” 

You began whimpering into his shoulder, tiny hands clinging to the back of his shirt to keep yourself from bouncing on his cock that has been leaking inside you for a while now. You wanted him fuck you stupid now. You didn’t want this at first, all you wanted was just some affection, maybe his big warm hugs, nose rubs or forehead kisses would have been fine. Now that he had you fully seat on his long, thick, and veiny cock, you wanted nothing more than to be fucked stupid. 

He shifted his thighs under your legs a bit, his movements had you hoisting yourself from his cock and without warning you slammed yourself down. You both bit back your moan and your boyfriend was quick to shut his camera off, then quickly grab your hips. His long slender fingers sank themselves in your tender flesh to keep you still as he brushed his lips against your ear and whispered, “I know you’re a needy little cock whore when I have you on my dick, but you need to keep still or else.”

His warning made goosebump rise all over your arms and thighs and you almost wanted to disobey him just to see what he would do to you. But at the same time you thought that it was for Gojo to end his stream. 

So you're going to do your best to ignore the feeling of his hard and hot cock that was deep and resting comfortably on your g-spot. You’ll try your best to take as many deep breaths as you could to keep yourself from moving, even though it felt as if breathing was proving to be difficult for you because with every breath you take, you could feel his cock pressing into you even more. 

“I’m sorry about that guys, my girlfriend isn’t feeling well at the moment,” Gojo chuckled as he turned his camera back on. “Only 10 more minutes until my stream ends for the night so if you have any questions that you wanna ask, then now will be the best time to do so.” Gojo began to read his chat again before whispering in your ear. “Only ten more minutes and once those minutes are up, I’ll get to fill your pretty little cunt with my cum.”

“I wanna be filled now,” You whimpered as you pressed your sweat face into his face. You were flustered, your tummy felt weird. Being on his cock for so long made your little cunt feel overstimulated. You wanted him to hurry up and pound you until you cum as a matter of a fact, you felt as though you were about to cum soon. 

He chuckled, his warm minty breath tickling your sweaty skin and you shuddered yet again. This had your heart beating rapidly against your chest. Anyways, Gojo glanced at the screen to see that a question had popped up. 

What do I do to maintain a healthy relationship with Y/N. Earlier you said that you’ve been together for 6 years, you’re basically high school sweethearts so how do you do it?

“Normally, I’d let Y/N answer this question,” he said as he rested both hands on your butt and caressed them. “But since my pretty baby is not feeling so well, then I’ll answer myself.”

“Toru… I feel like… I wanna… I wanna cum,” you whimpered beneath your shaky breath. Gojo chuckled, he already knew you were about to cum, your little cunt was clenching and creaming around his cock so hard, he swore that you’ll make a mess of his pants, by the time his stress was over. 

“Hold it Y/n,” he whispered, pinching your ass cheeks in the process before he proceeded to answer the question. “To be honest, the key to having a healthy relationship with Y/n or let me say the key to maintaining such a healthy relationship with my girlfriend is communication.” Your body began to slightly tremble on his lap, you felt as though you were about to pass out from the overwhelming sensation that was suddenly pouring all over you. 

A smile grew on his lips when your thighs twitched and your soaking pussy walls throbbed around his cock. “Like I said before we have our struggles and sometimes those struggles lead to arguments. But instead of walking away from each other, when we’re down arguing I’ll give her a hug to cool her down a bit before sitting down to cool off. Then after a moment of silence we’ll both have a conversation to fix our problem and if that doesn’t work we’ll just have sex. Sex fixes problems that normal conversation can’t fix.” 

He gritted his teeth before kissing your forehead once more, “Ok guys, I only got time to answer one question and give a random thought like I alway” 

“Toru… I can’t hold it any longer,” You whined into his shoulders. 

But he paid no attention to you. You were just going to have to be a good girl and wait. He was getting a liitle impatient too.

Would we ever get story time?

“What do you mean storytime? Story time as in my first time with Y/N and so on. If that’s what you’re asking, we already made a video about it, it’s just a matter of time. Our editor has the video so we’re just waiting.” 

What’s the random thought for the day?

Gojo sighed softly, his hands still massaging your backside. “The song" Good kisser "by usher is not about kissing someone's lips. It’s actually about oral sex. The man was literaa;y talking about orals guys. That’s my random thought of the day,” He said to his stream. “Anyways guys I’m about to sign off now. I hope you have a great night and stay peachy.”

And with that said he quickly signed off his stream. You on the other hand tossed your head back while moaning loudly. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t cum all over me. Good girl,” he chuckled, his fingers digging into the flesh of your eyes and suddenly your eyes were positioned in the back of your head. He was lifting your hips, moving you up and down on his cock and you could feel very thick veins sliding against your gummy walls. 

“Oh yes,” you moaned, your soaking pussy clenching even tighter around his cock so nicely. Your knees were already bent at either side of his hip and your chest was already pressing into his. 

“This is what you wanted huh?” He asked. 

“Yes” you moaned in sync with your ass clapping against his clothed thighs. 

He chuckled then tossed his head back to release a throaty moan. You were taking him so well. He could feel the slightly jiggling of your ass in his palms as he slammed you down on his cock, over and over. 

You were so close to cumming, you felt like you were definitely going to pass, your head now resting on his shoulders and your eyes still at the back of your head. The coils in your tummy kept on getting tighter and tighter. “Toru,” his name slipped past your lips just as you reached your orgasm. Gojo was moaning loudly in your ear, his own hips thrusting upwards to meet your ass as he chased the long awaited release. It wasn’t long before his cock swelled and burst his cum inside you. He moaned your name, his hand wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you closer as he emptied his cum in you. Man it would have been nice if he’d done this earlier, but nonetheless it still felt good to feel his semen filling your cunt and it made your shudder. 

“Baby?” he called as he kissed your shoulder. 

“Hm” you answered. 

“You this is only the beginning right,” he asked as he slapped your booty cheeks. 

You rolled your eyes, you had already anticipated this. You know once your boyfriend’s cock was inside your pussy, it would take you multiple orgasms before he even considered pulling out. And even when he does, he would still be fucking you until he himself can’t come anymore, which seems to be impossible because Gojo, huh you already know what up. 

“Just take me to the bed already,” you mumbled against his shoulders and he chuckled. “You said you wanted to stuff me full of cum right?”

“Don’t tempt me baby,” he said before slapping your ass once more. “You know what’ll happen if you tempt me like that. Do you want me to breed you?” 

You grinned against his shoulders before answering, “That’s the plan right? To stuff me full of your juicy cum until you’re sure that I’ll get pregnant.”

“Y/N,” he warned as he stood up from his gaming chair. He locked his hands under your ass before walking with you outside the gaming room and towards the bedroom that you share with. “Stop tempting me for real Y/N.”

“Awe come on big boy,” you moaned as he pulled out of you and laid you down on the bed. You sat up on your knees with cum leaking from your pussy. You quickly get rid of the rest of your clothing then you whisper, seductively, “Don’t you wanna be a daddy.”

And that all it took before he had you in a mating press, fucking his hard cock and more of his cum inside your delicous cunt. 

… 

All you wanted was his affection in the beginning, but now you were getting more than his affection, you were getting stuffed with his little minions. 

Maybe you should cock warm him more often when he’s streaming. 

Maybe. 

𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕

@getosbigballsack 2023

[stargirl-writes]

through your eyes

pairing : librarian! reader x artist! anakin skywalker

word count : 2.7k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

you'd find every book there is in search of a world you can get lost in. you thought you weren't really special enough to pursue an adventure for yourself. when one day, you notice a certain jedi spend a lot of time in your quiet library. strange— how he'd choose to sit in solitude when he can be pursuing a more colorful life outside, even stranger, is how he shows you a portrait he drew of you.

tags : fluff, romance, comfort, maybe a bit of angst(?), but it's a happy fic i promise!

warnings : none(!)

notes : hello angels! i REALLY needed to write a lover-boy-anakin for my sanity and this came to me because of this blog and watching 'the portrait of a lady on fire' because i just love how artists love. so if you're in for a tooth-aching soft fluffy ani fic, i gotchu!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

There is nothing more magical than the worlds you escape in reading for hours.

You can become an adventurer, seeking a great legend, or a fighter, ready to give your life for a cause, or a witch, enchanting villages to heal, or something useful, like a staple gun, or in love.

It would always take you away from the realities of your world. A galactic war, you grieve at night for; because you're you. And you're only the librarian in the capital city of Coruscant.

Besides, there's the Jedi Order and the Republic to fight the war. All there's left for you is to wait, and cry silently, and try to live despite it all.

You close the book you were holding, it was the last installation of the novel you were following. Towards the end, the female lead finally achieved her life's purpose— a happy ending.

It left you feeling empty, jealous even. Because she got to live a life worth hurting for— a sweet fervor. At least her suffering is met by an ending she deserves.

With a sigh, you got up and placed the book neatly on the bookshelf. The library was quiet, like it usually is. No one seems to take interest in thousands of stories waiting to be unravelled.

Maybe, they're actually living a life worth telling a story for. And you're here, stuck, looking for anything to take you off your own reality.

You heard a chair creak from a distance. You perk your head up, trying to find the source of the sound.

A lone man sat, holding what looked like a book in his hand. He was wearing robes you could recognize were of the Jedi's. Strange, a Jedi reading, even stranger, he was holding something, a pencil or a pen, and he was writing down in his book.

As the librarian, you wanted to come up and ask him if there was anything you could help him with. Half-hoping to hear what type of books he was interested in. But his eyes were focused and intent, like he was really immersed, and you thought it best not to disturb him.

So you left him to his business. It was already late, and your energy is already depleted from finishing your book.

The following days were identical. Arranging books, cleaning shelves, helping a few readers find their books.

The Jedi you once saw that night became ever-more present. You wanted to ask what he was reading, must be something good if he's willing to sit down and go through it rather than pursue colorful adventures as a Jedi.

You were finishing the inventory one night when you curiously peeked over the Jedi. His eyes caught yours and you looked away, embarrassed to have been so shamefully staring.

But then, your curiosity overcomes your embarrassment, so you walk up the Jedi.

"I can't help but notice you come here often" You began, trying your best to conceal your excitement. You wanted to know what he was reading, you needed some place to take your mind off.

"Oh?" He looks up, closing his book.

The cover didn't have a title, and you frowned at the let down.

"Well, I've never seen a Jedi actively want to read before" You commented, earning a chuckle from him.

"May I ask what you're reading?" You blurt out.

You could feel his gaze land on you and you suddenly feel conscious of being subjected to his attention.

He shakes his head with a lighthearted smile, and tucks his book to his robes.

"No, I'm sorry, It's not a book" He answers.

Seeming to read the visible disappointment in your face, he brings the book on the table again.

"Then what is it?"

"I draw, sometimes" He answers, handing you his journal, you turn the page revealing his sketch of the architecture of the library, it was elaborate, sharp lines that capture the symmetry of the columns, darker shades where there is no light.

Your eyes land on another sketch, a mech-droid. He even has a deconstructed version beside it like he had been studying how to operate it.

You turn another page, and you recognize a woman, Madame Jocasta, the librarian for the Jedi Library.

"These are really well done." You commented. "Are you a mechanic?" You asked, finding another elaborate deconstruction of a lightsaber.

"Yeah, you can say" He answers with a smile. "But I'm a Jedi knight, I'm only drawing what interests me"

"Why come to the library then?" You asked, turning to the last few pages, and to your surprise, you saw a sketch of the night you finished a novel you were reading.

Your cheeks were painted scarlet— following the lines he used to capture your visible dismay. You look up, stuck between being flattered and feeling embarassed.

"I meant to give you that" He scratches the back of his head.

You shake your head, deciding it was an innocent act to observe and draw what he sees. "Well, you got my nose wrong" You tease.

He chuckles, as if he's relieved by your positive reaction.

You dared turn another page and find another portrait of you, you recognize that it had been the day when you were explaining the metaphor used in your favorite classical tale of a boy who's got too much in his ego, it ended up being his downfall.

The Jedi didn't fail to capture the Twilek's reaction to your rambling and you laughed at the picture.

"I think she just wasn't ready to hear the tale of a boy who got too close to the sun" You explained the reason for the Twilek's expression on the portrait.

"I don't understand why it'd be a tragedy, Icarus was smiling when he fell" The Jedi speaks, and your heart skips a beat. He knows the story, you fought the excitement to urge him to expand on his thought.

"You know the story?"

"Ah, my mother used to tell me a lot" He answers. "She told me that he knew exactly what it'd mean if he went too far"

"And you think he was happy when he fell?" You inquired, curious by his optimistic view.

"I think he finally achieved his life's purpose" His lips curl to a smile.

For a moment, you held your breath, perplexed by how he interpreted such a tragic end.

You caught him looking, and you stripped your gaze away, closing his journal and handing it back to him.

You hoped that you've not made him feel embarrassed to not want to come again. The way he gave a fresh view on your favorite tale made you want to hear what he has to say.

"Well, if you're interested in drawing, I'm always here" You invited.

His eyebrows flash. "In that case, I swear I'll never bore the way that Twilek did. You can tell me all the stories you can"

Your heart skips and you can't help but smile at the thought.

"My name's Anakin"

"[Name]"

Anakin became more apparent to your life.

With your permission, he finally was able to study you, his eyes would narrow in focus, trying to replicate what he sees and how he sees you using a pencil, and you, reading stories and tales out loud.

In the beginning, you felt squirmish. He was really intent on looking at you, seeing you. No one else has quite looked at you the way he does. and you felt like every insecurity of yours was brought up front.

It felt like undressing; you thought, if he sees too closely, and unmasks you, will there be anything underneath? You felt like you were too mundane for him to look at you the way he does.

"And towards the end, she'd settle for a quiet life. She'd have lain on the ground he'd walk on, and this was a life she could see herself in" You finished the tale.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, showing dislike for the ending. "That can't be her end" He states his opinion.

You put down the book, happy that he was thinking the same as you. "Why do you say?" You encouraged him to speak more.

He doesn't stop looking up and down from you to his sketch. "She was an traveller, she wanted to sail" He recalled the synopsis.

"She was in love, it made her have different priorities" You considered the point the author made.

His hand halts, and his eyes land on yours. "If he truly loved her, he would have allowed her to become a fully realized person. He'd not have asked her to extinguish her fire" He looks up, as if in thought. "If he loved her, being near her fire would have been enough"

You smiled, surprised to learn that Anakin had been such a romantic.

"Well, what do I know, I've never been in love" You shrugged.

You look up to find Anakin's expression soften. You wondered what he was thinking of in this very moment.

"It's done" He says after a while.

He shows the portrait, and immediately, you see how unkept your hair looked. Then, how he deliberately emphasizes the creases of your cheeks when you smile and how he erased a portion in your eyes to make them appear as though it twinkled with light.

"You don't like it?" He says after noting your reaction.

"No, no, it's lovely" You answered. Though, you felt like it was too pretty, too idealized. Perhaps, he was seeing you in a manner you can't, for better or for worse, you don't know.

He nods, you can see his reluctance to ask what you thought, then you mentally slapped yourself for forgetting he can sense, and he definitely got what you'd been feeling.

The following afternoons went like that. You freely speaking your mind and him carefully sketching, listening.

For the first time, you don't feel like there is a need to escape your world anymore. You wake up, filled with stories you wanted to tell Anakin. Your heart would skip every time you hear the bells of the library door ring. Or when you'd catch Anakin so deep in focus, as if he was committing you to memory, and over time, his sketches of you became more honest, he'd sketch your insecurities with charming strokes, and you don't feel as though you have to hide them around him. He looks at you and sees art. It felt like the most comforting thing.

"But that was the test, he needed to trust that she'll walk behind him, he has to decide that it would be enough" You challenged his view one time you finished reading a tale of two lovers, Orpheus and Eurydice.

He has finished drawing and put down his journal to engage with your opinions.

"Can you really blame him? The Gods were playing with his doubts" He defends.

"Right, he did walk to hell for her" You considered.

"But isn't that what makes it so tragic— they could have made it out, they were so close" You grieved, because despite knowing the ending, you still hope that somehow, they'd find a way to crawl out of hell. Enduring love like that earns an ending that is deserved.

"Orpheus was only a man. He chose to look at her, one more time. He knew if he did, he'd lose her. And he did. It's a choice not of a lover, but of a poet" He concludes, and you thaw.

You'd still find yourself mesmerized by his mind. The way he sees things, the gentleness that comes, not because of the absence of violence, he knows too much of it in the war, but because despite the abundance, he remains tender.

You don't know when you started falling in love with Anakin. You only know that he'd be the story that'll last for your lifetime.

Anakin hands you the portrait. And you smiled at the expression he chose to immortalize. One of when you're almost brought to tears narrating how Eurydice was always behind Orpheus despite him never hearing her.

"I wish I looked this pretty when I cry" You commented, tracing over the lines of his sketch of you.

You felt Anakin tuck a loose strand of hair to your ear. He was looking at you with the same focus, the same wonder, same fascination.

You've grown so used to his gaze, it felt like you were communicating something that can't be expressed into words.

"If you see yourself the way I do now, you'd never doubt my sketches" He softly speaks.

"You're beautiful"

His words latched to your heart.

Anakin is the most dream-like of all; sometimes he feels like a mere character of a novel incarnated into an etheric being.

Anakin held your face, and in the heat of the moment, you pressed your lips against his.

You thought, if anyone else can feel how he makes you feel, they'd never doubt that true love exists.

The understanding you craved for— he gave you most ardently.

Saying 'I love you' came easy. Sometimes, you feel as though saying it would not suffice for how enormously you felt for him.

Your afternoons became late nights, and early mornings. Anakin would ask you to stop smiling, so he could draw you in honesty, but how could you not? You loved the way he'd be so immersed, so lost by gazing at you.

It was a bliss you've only known with Anakin.

But you watched how slowly, he was becoming more and more tense. You're not fighting the war the way he was, being a General, wielding a weapon at the front lines.

He'd rip away pages in frustration, and though you try to soothe the tension and pressure, you're afraid that this story will end in a tragedy.

All your favorite romances leave you feeling hollow towards the sad ending. And with Anakin, you keep being haunted by the thought that any moment might be the last.

What an odd plot to be involved in; loving and being deathly terrified of losing it.

You wrapped yourself in his robes— wishing the feeling to stop plaguing you. Anakin had been asleep, and you stood by the balcony, deep in thought.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, feeling your fingers grow cold by the crisp midnight air.

A piece of paper crumples, and you unfold the portrait.

It was the night you first shared yourself with Anakin. Your mind is flooded by the memory; how he made sure you felt comfortable, how he took every moment slowly like the world outside didn't matter.

You didn't know he drew you, or that he kept it in his pockets. It was strange— to see the picture he loved most was one where you were sleeping. You tuck the paper back inside and go back to bed.

He's gone most of the days now. But you can tell he's making the effort to stay awake when he'd come to your quarters.

"—Love is not an everlasting performance in which you have to attempt to keep your lover's attention. Rather, it's the release of insecurity to trust them to choose to stay, no matter what they see" You narrated softly, thinking Anakin had fallen asleep.

You planted a kiss on his forehead.

"I don't think I've heard this story before" He speaks up after a while.

"No, you haven't" You managed a wan smile. "I wrote it"

Anakin was looking at you the way he used to before. Your heart ached, but you proceeded. "I love you with what in me is unfinished, with what in me remains changing. By you, I am forever undone."

Anakin holds you tight.

"Do you think it'll have a happy ending?" You spoke nakedly.

"Not all stories end in tragedy, my love" He reassures.

You bit your lip "We'll have to conquer the fates, it's been written so many times, a cruel ending" You can't entirely let your fears go.

"Fate gave you to me"

"If by some twist, we end in tragedy, then I am happy to have loved you" He says.

You let out an exhale. There was the simple truth of it; that all things must go, even Anakin. And like him, you felt as though you were blessed to even share a portion of your life with him. Loving is never a waste, even just for the brief time you're allowed in one lifetime. You decided it would be enough for you.

In his arms, it felt like you're unravelling a story that may have a happy ending after all.

[jhoneybees]

Desire (part 2)

Ahh!! I'm back with another spicy fic🤭 Now this one is a sequel to Desire so if haven't read it or don't remember, it's best to go and read it to understand what's going on. Hope you enjoy!

Song in the fic:

Taglist: @elvisalltheway101 @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a

Characters: 50s!Elvis x reader

Warnings/triggers: Smut, Age gap(Elvis is 20 and Reader is 25), E's first time??, male receiving, hand job, petnames, Sub!Elvis

_____________________________________________

“Did you like that, Presley?”

He definitely did. 

The way your cocktail dress molds onto your figure makes his heart throb like crazy and as you take a seat opposite of him, he tries to keep his cool, begging himself to not stare too much but when you start talking, asking him about how his records are doing he falls into a haze just staring at your lips and only answering in a slight mumble “The records are goin’ good…gettin’ lots of sales and… all that…”

It's like you're hypnotizing him, without even knowing it.

Or…do you?

“Oh, that’s so great, Elvis!” his gaze trailing up to your eyes, he just breathes out a smile and nods. Getting the slightest glance of your defined jawline as you flip hair behind your back and turn your head towards the bartender, who’s dropping off a drink. Earning a soft “Thank you” and smile from you.

God, that damn smile.

Silently watching as you take a sip of the alcoholic beverage, his heart skips a beat when you suggest “Why don’t we go to my dressing room? Some privacy would be nice” all he can muster is a quiet nod.

_____________________________________________

“Come. Sit here, I don’t bite”

Elvis quietly makes his way to sit on a round velvet footstool that your hand patted by where you’re sitting at the vanity. Taking a silent look around your dressing room, seeing sparkly dresses hung up on a rack and floral patterns on the walls. He turns his head back at the sound of your voice.

“How’s your mama? I haven’t seen her in a while” his eyes darting up and down at your figure, Elvis brings a fist up and clears his throat.

“S-she’s good… jus’ doin’ the same old things” almost cringing at himself at how he said that  but the embarrassment quickly fades when he watches you through the mirror reapplying red lipstick to your soft looking lips.

“Good, I assume your daddy’s doing the same old things too?” he nods with parted lips making you laugh sweetly, not noticing you’re looking at him through the reflection. 

You have definitely hypnotized him.

“Well that’s also…good” 

Elvis feels like his mind is being trapped, trapped in this heaven-like gold birdcage that is your beauty. 

The way your mouth curves into a smile and your eyes shine with friendliness, slowly darkening into lust digging into his soul. Such simple things but he can’t seem to pull his eyes away- Wait-

Lust?

Suddenly he feels something grazing his thigh and when he looks down, his breath hitches and eyes widen at your pretty hand gliding onto his growing erection. Elvis quickly snaps his eyes up to yours and he almost barely holds back a whimper. 

“Been thinking of me?” your voice low and sensual, Elvis swallows as your lips grow a smirk. 

Trailing his eyes back down, his hands blindly grip behind at the edge of the footstool as your hand delicately presses down on his length. His shoulders rising as his breath does, Elvis throws his head back briefly at the light relief you made him feel “Y-Y/n.. ” 

“What is it, baby?” a sigh stutters and his lips part. He doesn’t know where his mind is, he’s lost for words. Gulping at the shine of mischief in your eyes and as you slowly trace little patterns on his bulge, Elvis’ eyes flutter close.

Sighing at your palm trailing up to the top of his pants and down to his knee, you let out a little hum as your delicate finger lifts his chin “Did you like my performance, Presley?” asking him again with a slight rasp in your words. Seeing your eyebrows raise in question.

Elvis nods almost immediately, swallowing hard at your foot brushing up his leg as you sit with one knee over the other “A-Ah liked it..a lot” he just about gets out, nervously licking his lips. 

“Ohh, I’m glad…” You coo and his eyes light up at your little pout and sparkly eyes.

“Why don’t I give you another…private little show, hm? Just the two of us” his heart kicking a beat against his ribcage, Elvis opens his mouth in an attempt to answer but nothing comes out. He just nods again. Watching as your gaze lowers to his lips “Use your words, honey”

His mouth is growing dry by the second “...Yes” 

A shiver slithers down his spine at your widening smirk. Elvis watching you rising from your seat and tipping his chin up with two fingers. 

Gulping at how you look down on him and smile.

“Go sit on that seat over there f’me, baby.” nodding quietly as you tilt your head towards the direction next to him.

Sitting himself down on the chaise lounge, smoothing his sweaty hands down his thighs as he lifts his head. His heart thumps loudly in his ears seeing you step towards him and stand right in between his legs.

Grabbing his chin again “You’re quite a handsome thing, aren’t you?”

His blue puppy eyes peering into yours as you loom over him. 

Hearing your soft chuckle, his breath shortens when you reach down to brush your hand over his crotch again. Feeling his face grow red as you bring your face just an inch away. Gently, moving your fingertips to play with the zipper of his slacks.

His chest heaves softly at the anticipation of you giving him a kiss, he nervously looks from your lips to your eyes. Seeing your pupils dilate ever slightly and as he’s about to say something, his jaw gets grabbed roughly and you crash your lips onto his, making his breath hitch and form into a puddle.

The sound of lips separating filling the room. “Get up against the wall, baby.” You order before enveloping him into another kiss.

Elvis moans into your mouth and shuffles back until the back of his head hits the wall with a thud, chasing your touch as you step out of your heels and scrunch up your sparkly dress to straddle his lap.

Groaning at the warmth of your bare thighs and your breasts pressed up against his chest. He rests his hands on your hips, trying to keep up with you devouring his mouth bit by bit. Feeling his cock strained against the fabric of his pants and now you are grinding on him making him shudder. “Mm-” 

“Shh, quiet baby…” You whisper, grazing your mouth along his cheek to his ear. Nibbling on the lobe leaving his heart almost exploding. 

Gasping at your palm slithering over his nipple through a thin layer of fabric. 

Elvis doesn’t know what to do with himself, he wasn’t expecting to be in your presence tonight and definitely wasn’t expecting to be sitting on the couch in your dressing room with you rolling your hips on his covered hard weeping dick.

It’s crazy what happens in Memphis.

“My funny valentine…” looking up into your dark eyes, his heart softens at your singing.

“Sweet comic…valentine.” watching as you flip your hair back and slowly lean into the crook of his neck, pecking his skin softly.

Elvis flutters his eyes shut and pants quietly at you kissing up his jaw and rolling your hips in a circular motion.

“You make me smile with my heart…” His tummy filling up with butterflies as you trail your hands down his chest to his belt. Carefully unbuckling it.

Swallowing, as Elvis opens his eyes to see you pulling the zipper of his pants down, wide eyed as your cold fingertips smooth around his length, giving it a little squeeze. 

Cheeks grow pink as you watch his face and let out an angelic giggle. “Your looks are…laughable.”

Pulling him out of his pants with a quiet melodic hum. “Unphotographable…” 

Seeing a smirk creep onto your lips, he follows your stare down to his aching hard cock, drooling out warm precum. Elvis whimpers loudly when you rest your thumb on his red, angry tip. Rubbing it in slow, torturous circles, coating him with his own juices. “Yet you're my favourite work of art…”

His eyebrows furrow and he pleads. 

“Mm-... I-It ‘urts-” 

“Shhh ‘s ok…”

Breath hitching as you begin to stroke him. Long and slow. “Is your figure less than greek…”

His lungs follow the rhythm of your leveled movements, legs growing weaker and weaker by the second. “Is your mouth a little weak…”

Melting as you tilt his chin up slightly, dominating him with your stare. “When you open it to speak…”

The motion on his cock, speeding up just a little making Elvis’ tongue roll out moans and groans. 

“Are you smart…”

Leaning into your hold as you run your fingers through his gelled hair, needing your comfort from you giving him such an awakening experience. 

“But don’t change your hair for me…”

Feeling a delicious tightness form in the pit of his stomach. 

Bucking his hips into your hand as you twist and pull. “Not if you care for me…”

“Stay little valentine…” his breathing erratic at the now fast approaching unknown pleasure.

“Stay…” 

He begs desperately, wanting a gentle kiss. You give him one but he wasn’t expecting it to be so loving and delicate. “Each day is Valentine’s day…” 

As you stroke him one more time, Elvis whimpers uncontrollably and his head falls back hitting the wall. White ropes of his release landing on his slacks and your hand, he clenches your dress in his fists. 

Elvis’ heart thumps and thumps, his eyes rolling back and eyelids feeling heavy. He rides through his orgasm. 

Moaning and mumbling Yes’s and Lord have mercy’s, he’s falling over the edge into a lake of your honey voice whispering “Good boy…” and “Let it all out, uh huh…such a good boy.” 

He never thought he’d have an even deeper desire to be with you than he already does at this very moment.

“Best performance yet, hm?””

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Can we get some Ghoulcy nsfw hcs?!

Of course you may. I've had requests for Ghoulcy for a minute, but I get so weirdly nervous at the idea of writing for these two. Thanks to everyone who's reassured me about those feelings; you're the best. I'm dipping my toes into the pool, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean NSFW Headcanons

She's incredibly ticklish, which he discovers early on by accident and eagerly uses against her (that is, once he's sort of adjusted to being allowed to touch someone/allowing someone to touch him). It's an easy way to subdue her when they get to wrestling around, which happens more and more frequently once they start to get touchy, but before they get truly intimate. It's a playful, mostly innocent way to blow off some steam and touch one another (which they're both desperate to do) without anything being too weird, and it often turns into Cooper teaching Lucy a thing or two about fighting. Once they start sleeping together, though, it often turns into Lucy pinned to the ground while Cooper holds her in place with one hand, working his fly open with the other, already grinding his fully hard cock against her before he fucks her breathless. Those big prey animal eyes of hers activate the predator in him like crazy.

He refuses to take off a single article of clothing that isn't the duster or the hat, but once they start to get really close, he'll shed things. It would start slow, though. Rolled up sleeves to expose his forearms, a little sliver of his throat and chest exposed after he undoes a few buttons. Eventually he'd take his gloves off, wanting to feel her soft skin under his hands more than he wants to hide them from her. It's a very rewarding risk to take; the first time she feels his bare hands touch between her legs, she cums nearly instantly, not just from the way he manages to make her feel physically, but from the overwhelming joy she feels at the level of trust he's showing her.

Lucy is so used to having Chet and his very obvious attraction to her around that Cooper's aloofness drives her absolutely crazy at first. Initially, she couldn't care less if the old jerk is interested in her, because she hates him. She hates everything about him and she tries her hardest to not be like him. But the more she gets to know him, the more she realizes how similar they already are, she starts to develop what she realizes is a little crush on him. That's embarrassing enough for her (and the feeling is mutual, right down to the embarrassment), but it's even worse when she starts to be nicer to him, flirt with him, even, and he barely responds. Slowly, she increases the obviousness of her attraction, but even when she's basically laying it out on the table without explicitly saying it, he brushes her off, doesn't even seem to register her moves. Granted, she isn't insanely experienced, but for that very reason she also isn't very tactful about it...the old man simply doesn't believe she knows what she's doing. Growing up in the vault has just made her that friendly, he tells himself. Writes her off as naively, unintentionally coming across as flirtatious, assuming she'd never be with someone like him, no matter how hard she tries to demonstrate otherwise. She basically has to grab him by the collar and shove her tongue into his mouth to convey her meaning and get it to stick.

Speaking of Chet, Cooper teases her mercilessly about the "cousin stuff" thing when she lets it slip, at least at first. Eventually, though, he lets her live, even starts to pry a little about it. What exactly does "cousin stuff" entail? He wants to know how far she's gone, and even though the answer is "not very, really", he still feels an ugly sense of possession start to wrap around his brain at the thought of another man touching her, feeling her skin, making her feel good. When they fool around early on he just can't help himself, asking "Did he touch you here?" the first time his hands find their way under her shirt, into her pants, "Did he make you feel like that?" the first time he makes her cum. It's pretty embarrassingly needy in his mind, but she happily reassures him that anything she did with Chet was out of boredom, basically, and that he could never make her feel the way Cooper does.

He doesn't ask about Max, though. It seems to him that the two likely didn't get up to much in the time they were together, and it's pretty clearly painful territory for her to discuss. He avoids asking her about old paramours when it comes to genuine romantic feelings, and hopes she'll have the courtesy to do the same. Discussing sexual histories is one thing. However, once the two realize they're falling in love themselves, they'll have to have a whole long, awkward talk about it. He's told her about Janey plenty at this point; she's the reason he keeps going every day, so it's hard for him to not talk about her once he has someone he trusts to talk to. He never talks about Barb, though, mentioning "Janey's mother" offhandedly at best. When he finally tells Lucy about her, about how their marriage ended, he cries. Well, he doesn't quite cry, but his voice breaks and his lip quivers in a way that shows more vulnerability and emotion than he has in forever, and it makes Lucy want to hold him close, protect him. After their big talk, they have sex. After they have sex, they exchange "I love yous" out loud, face to face for the first time.

She isn't completely blind to how possessive Cooper is of her. She knows how territorial he can be, and the thrill-seeking side of her wants so badly to try and make him a little jealous. However, she also knows how unreasonable he can be, as well, and she isn't really willing to put anyone else's life or limbs on the line for a little extra excitement. It's wise of her, since she doesn't really grasp the full extent of the older man's desire to keep her for his own. Really, all she needs to do is laugh at another man's jokes a little too loudly, smile a little too big at him, and the minute they're alone he's bending her over the most stable surface he can find and pumping her full of multiple loads, slapping her bare ass beet red as he does it. She'd never admit to how much she enjoys the spanking, but obviously she can't hide how soaking wet it makes her.

The moment he initially uses that lasso on her for the first time, she instantly develops a rope kink. She doesn't really know that that's what it is; all she knows is that any time she sees him using it, she can't look away, can't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. Especially if he uses it during any kind of combat. He'll notice her looking, and he figures he knows what she's thinking, but he's a little afraid to tie her up too much, always secretly a bit afraid that she'll randomly decide (or reveal) that she hates and finds him repulsive in the middle of them having sex. He doesn't want to fully restrain her, but when he finally decides to use it on her just a little, tying her wrists together above her head as he teases every inch of her naked body with his tongue, her reaction makes him much more agreeable to doing so again in the future. Maybe one day he'll feel comfortable enough to full-on hog tie her. It would drive Lucy crazy.

Similarly, he's got his own little thing for watching her sleep. He doesn't partake, himself, not wanting to deal with the vulnerability of unconsciousness, both physical and mental, but seeing her so relaxed and sweet and exposed often gets him going. Once it comes to light, she's agreeable to him touching her, using her while she sleeps, but he worries about waking her up. Good rest is rare in the Wasteland, and he wouldn't want to deprive her of something so important for smoothskins just to have sex with him. So, despite him certainly finding the idea of somnophilia very appealing and despite her being open to the idea, he almost always refrains...unless they're staying somewhere especially safe, or she's sleeping harder than usual. Even then, all he typically allows himself is to touch her a bit while he strokes himself off. But sometimes he simply can't help himself and he'll spend long, slow, agonizing minutes silently undressing her just enough that he can slip his cock inside her. He's never woken her up yet, but they always go again the next morning when she wakes up and realizes what's happened.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 11

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: More time goes by and Bradley moves in. You get some news that shocks you to your core.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Adult language and themes, pregnancy talk.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Sick again, sweetheart?” Bradley asks with a yawn as he stumbles into the bathroom. He rubs your back as you empty your stomach into the toilet.

“Yeah,” you moan as your stomach turns again. “Sorry I woke you up again.”

This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve woken up on your way to the bathroom covering your mouth. You both had the stomach flu a few weeks ago and Bradley’s back to normal but you haven’t felt right since.

“It’s okay, I had to get up anyway,” he murmurs, wetting a washcloth with cool water and wiping it over your forehead. “Maybe you should go to the doctor?”

You nod. “I think so too. I’ll call when they open.”

“Mmkay,” he replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me know what they say.”

“I will,” you say, wiping your mouth and flushing the toilet once you close the lid. “Thanks.”

“For what?” He asks, crouching down to brush your hair off your neck to place the cool cloth there.

“Taking care of me when I’m sick,” you reply, closing your eyes as you remember the way Chet laughed and left you heaving on the ground the first time he got you drunk. “Not being grossed out by me emptying my guts the past few mornings.”

“I want to because I love you, Em,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Once the nausea is at bay, he helps you to your feet and gets in the shower as you brush your teeth.

“We should be done by 4 today, and then I’m going to stop by the apartment to pick up the last of the boxes, but you can call me if you need anything. We’re just in the classroom today,” he says over the running water.

You had been meaning to ask him to move in for a while but didn’t know how to bring it up; but that was remedied when you blurt it out after a particularly good round of morning sex a few weeks ago.

“I will,” you say, heading back to the bedroom to lie down as another round of nausea hits.

Emma: Hey guys, I’m not feeling well again and I’m gonna make an appointment with my doctor when they open. Do you think one of you could see Akin’s new calf? That’s all I had on the schedule for today.

Gav: Of course, feel better.

Noah: No problem. Let us know how it goes.

Emma: Will do. Thanks guys. I appreciate it.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You snooze until Bradley leaves you with a kiss and a reminder to call the doctor.

You set an alarm and make an appointment for 10:00 AM and plan to have labs drawn beforehand.

Emma: Made an appointment for 10:00.

Bradley: Good, let me know how it goes. Love you.

Emma: I will. Love you too.

You drop a coffee off for Charlie on the way to the lab since the therapy department is connected to the hospital.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Charlie yawns before she takes a drink. “Jake kept me up way too late last night.”

“Gross,” you scrunch your nose. “Be careful what you say, I actually might throw up this time.”

“Stomach still bothering you?” She asks after she giggles.

“Yeah, it woke me up again this morning,” you reply, checking your watch. “I better go though, they want me to have labs drawn before the visit.”

“Let me know what they say,” she murmurs, hugging you.

“I will,” you reply, giving her a squeeze before letting her get back to work.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

By the time the doctor comes in, you’re feeling back to normal and feeling a little silly for making an appointment.

“Good morning, Emma,” your doctor smiles as she shakes your hand. “We’re still waiting on a few labs to come back but I figured I’d come in and take a look at you and ask you a few questions.”

You nod, lying back as she guides you down and begins her exams, starting with your stomach.

“Any breast tenderness?” She asks as she palpates said area.

“A little,” you answer. “It’s not uncommon for me though; I take my birth control pills continuously, taking a break every 3 months to get a period.”

“Okay. When was your last period?” She asks as she helps you up.

“About a week before we got sick,” you reply, swinging your legs at the end of the exam table.

“Alright, let’s see if those results are in,” she says, clicking around. “Well, I know what’s going on.”

“What?” You reply, heart pounding.

“You’re pregnant.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“…help me put her feet up and get an ice pack,” you hear the doctor say. She sounds far away.

“What…what happened?” You say, sounding funny to your own ears; your tongue feels heavy.

“You fainted, honey. It’s okay, happens all the time,” the sweet old nurse reassures you, wiping a cool washcloth on your forehead. Just like Bradley did this morning.

Oh God, Bradley.

Your stomach rolls as you think of him leaving you.

“I can’t be pregnant,” you say, trying to shake your head. Your lips go numb as you begin to hyperventilate. “I take my pill every day, I’ve never missed one or taken one late. I’m not- I can’t-“

“Shhh,” the nurse shushes you. “Everything’s okay. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale for 3. 1…2…3, good.”

“Is there anyone I can call? Someone close by?” The doctor asks from your other side once your breathing is back under control.

“My sister, Charlie Seresin. She works down in PT,” you say, closing your eyes as the nausea starts to creep in.

“Oh, I know Charlie. I’ll go get her,” the nurse nods and pats your hand before heading toward the door.

“Is this a welcomed surprise?” The doctor asks as she rubs your hand. “I know last time it wasn’t.”

“I-I don’t know,” you say, closing your eyes as you try not to panic. “It’s not like last time, no. My boyfr-my Bradley-we just started to go without condoms a few months ago, I thought it would be okay since I’m so diligent with taking it.”

“You were doing everything right,” she assures you. “According to your HCG levels, you’re about 6 weeks along, which coincides with you being sick.”

“And it’s probably not very effective if you throw up shortly after taking it,” you say, lip trembling as you begin to cry as you realize. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not-“

There’s a knock on the door and Charlie rushes in.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, rushing to your side.

“I’m…pregnant,” you choke out on a sob.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she says, wiping a tear and holding your face between her hands. “Bradley’s not Chet. Bradley’s not going to leave you. Okay?”

You nod through your tears.

“He loves you and he’s going to be so happy,” she whispers, kissing your forehead. “He’s going to be the best dad and you’re going to be the best mom. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s maybe a little sooner than you’d like, but it’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, trying to believe her.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Charlie holds your hand as the doctor goes over what to expect in early pregnancy and helps you set up an ultrasound for the following morning.

All while you ignore the constant buzzing of your phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Charlie asks as she walks you out to your truck.

“Yeah,” you say, giving her the best smile you can muster.

“Okay, text me when you get home,” she says, obviously not convinced.

“I will,” you agree.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Em. This isn’t a bad thing. Bradley’s not going anywhere,” She murmurs after wrapping you in her arms. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” you nod, tears filling your eyes again.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You drive home on autopilot and suddenly you’re in your driveway without remembering a thing about the ride.

You pull out your phone and wince at the 11 missed calls and 7 new texts from Bradley as you open Charlie’s thread.

Emma: I’m home. Gonna lay down for a bit, I’m exhausted.

Charlie: Okay, please call Bradley, he’s freaking out.

Emma: 👍

Instead, you turn your phone off before changing into one of Bradley’s threadbare US Navy tees and climbing under your covers as tears steadily fall from your eyes. A sob leaves you when you smell his sweet shampoo on your pillow.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Emma?! Where are you?!” Bradley’s panicked voice pulls you from your slumber.

“In here,” you croak; your voice hoarse from your sobs. Your head pounds as you sit up.

He rushes into the bedroom and wraps you in his arms. “Thank God. That was the longest 27-minute drive of my life” he breathes, pulling back to look you in the eye, face falling as he takes in your tear-swollen eyes. “Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You just shake your head and bury your face into his shoulder as you begin to cry again.

“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, okay?” He says, stroking your back which just makes you cry harder. “It’ll be okay.”

Your tears eventually begin to slow and you take a deep breath before pulling away from his shoulder but unable to meet his eye.

“What’d the doctor say?” he asks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“That I’m not sick,” you whisper.

“Okay, that’s good,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and tilting your chin up. “What’s going on then? Talk to me, baby.”

You take a shaky breath and finally meet his eye.

“I’m pregnant.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: sorry for being MIA lately. Been a little discouraged and a lot busy.

Did anyone see this twist coming? 🙂

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

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