#fucking. jesus christ. i keep thinking about those lines and tearing up good GOD.

[razberrypuck]

petrigrof is going to make me sad forever now that we've seen how it ends actually. they still love each other so much, they're still the loves of each other's lives -- yes there were issues, yes they could've made better choices, but neither of them regret the time they spent together, even if it hurt sometimes. they don't want to let go, but they both understand now that it's best thing they can do for one another.

the love is still there. it always will be. even if they've stopped chasing after it.

[likeadevils]

was that interview paul mccartney and taylor did together in 2020 a big deal to you

at that time not a super big deal-- i didn't get really into the beatles until like, 2021? i think? but in retrospect routinely drives me insane. like paul mccartney heard my tears ricochet and mirrorball back to back and we just don’t know what he thought about either track. jail.

anyway here's a completely unrequested ranking of how insane it is that paul mccartney heard each song on folklore. also TRIGGER WARNINGS: cancer, death, drugs, infidelity, suicidal ideation

DISCLAIMER: 1) most of what i know about paul is centered around the beatles 2) you can not empathize with paul mccartney the same way you empathize with taylor. the dude is. he’s made some Choices.

songs that i regularly go oh my god paul fucking mccartney heard this song wtf

mirrorball (that’s him! that’s paul!)

mtr (i tried so hard to keep this brief. so. one of the things that lead to the beatles breaking up was like, song publishing drama, and also the other three beatles wanted to sign this fucking awful manager and paul didn’t want to do that and he ended up suing the other three beatles to get out of the contract and between that and various complicated personal stuff paul ended up becoming The Villian of the beatles breakup— or maybe not The Villian cause you know, the yoko of it all, but Villian #2. and then you add in the paul is dead of it all and how john lennon wrote a diss track about paul and one of the lines in it was “those freaks was right when the said you was dead” and it’s like. crazy. also one of paul’s biggest regrets was not getting the masters to the beatles songs and he’s been trying for like fucking decades and it keeps slipping away and michael fucking jackson bought them out from under him once?? it’s a whole thing)

exile (no cause the breakup took for-fucking-ever and was like mostly caused by “you never learned to read my mind” and he just has to endlessly talk about it to this day and reopen that wound and even though half the people involved in it are dead the conversation will just never end and it’ll just always echo throughout his life)

hoax (i feel like i would need a line by line breakdown but like bro. brother. brethren.)

upon reflection i will go oh god paul mccartney heard this but it is not one of the first things i think of when i hear the song

betty (his first name is james, which is just funny, and i would not be at all surprised to learn he said this shit verbatim when he was 17. or really ever kinda. uwu i’m too stupid not to cheat. also it was kinda your fault if you think about it. xoxo take me back please)

the 1 (such a paul song really. i’m doing good -> goes on to slowly reveal the most heartbreaking shit you’ve ever heard)

invisible string (not so fun fact his current wife (nancy) was friends with his first wife (linda) because they met during chemo but it seems like nancy and paul didn’t meet until after linda died which is the most fucking heartbreaking invisible string)

timt (one of the saddest pairs of paul mccartney quotes is this one time he said “i’ll do any drug except heroin, heroin is for suicidal people” (which is also sad because john lennon was like famously addicted to heroin) and then years later he was like “i did heroin after the beatles broke up” and its like jesus christ)

cardigan (like in a overall sense yeah when he was a teenager he did forever bind himself to a deeply inconsistent teenage boy and then that teenage boy found a different partner and left him, and some of the lyrics go hard through the paul and john context, but like overall it’s not like. like mtr and exile HIT when viewed through the beatles breakup lense and cardigan is like. yeah that happened)

august (i mean i guess? see above and see below)

illicit affairs (fuck sir james paul mccartney justice for maggie. i don’t know her last name but justice for maggie. man dated her for like three years while having this whole ass very public other girlfriend that he WAS ENGAGED TO and then that engagement fell apart because he was caught in bed with A THIRD WOMAN and then he keeps dating maggie AND MOVES THE THIRD WOMAN IN TO HIS HOME. and then he starts dating A FOURTH WOMAN and fucking ghosts maggie but then he showed up THE NIGHT BEFORE HE GOT MARRIED, cried at her, then left AND GOT MARRIED AND NEVER SPOKE TO HER AGAIN)

seven (he apparently spent a lot of his childhood just hanging out in trees people/bird watching? which is adorable. you also get the whole perfectionist looking back fondly on children being a peer to go insane. but also he seemed to stay in contact with his childhood friends to a kinda insane degree. but also man has lost a lot of friends)

epiphany (his mom was a fucking nurse who died when he was 14 and then later his wife died of the exact same thing. so i imagine the second verse Hits. aside from that though eh)

the two (2) songs that paul commented on

tlgad (he liked it!! this one gives me bigger george vibes tho. guys george’s house was so fucking cool he had all these weird caves underneath it and sometimes he would give people tours and have someone else lead them into the caves and then jump out and scare them)

peace (again said he liked it!! apparently got a bit hung up on the “give you a child” line which. fair. but also. listen to the song a bit more james i think it would give you mild psychic damage)

no brain damage

mad woman (i would actively avoid having to talk to him about this song. not cause i think he’d say anything particularly harmful (nowadays) i just think i’d be bored out of my mind)

[franks-unholy-confessional]

today im thinking about frank in lacey babydoll lingerie and panties. pale pink and so delicate, tattoos peeking out under the fabric. collar on his pale pretty throat and his hands handcuffed together so he can do nothing but writhe and moan as i rub him over the panties, getting them so soaked and wet, he's so good for me. can't decide if i want to hear his pretty noises so loud or if i want to see him gagged with his own lace panties. then fucking him so slow he can barely stand it, lingerie clinging to him with sweat, begging me to go faster and to touch him. and gd, hes so gorgeous, so good for me, why wouldnt i? but after he comes i just keep going, tears running down his pretty face because it feels so good but it hurts so much and still he doesnt want me to stop. i want to ruin him, i want him to be so blissed out he cant move, so lost in it he whines and and hooks his legs around my hips when i go to pull out even though he cant even come anymore. gorgeous boy just loves feeling so full, so pretty, so good. augh.

Ohh Anon that's a pretty picture for sure.

Frank dressed up all pretty in pink and lace for you, wrists cuffed to the headboard. Maybe the cuffs would be a matching pastel pink faux leather, fluffy and padded. Maybe you've had him spread out on the bed for hours just giving him light teasing touches, gentle kisses, and the softest of bites everywhere but where he really, really, wants them. Finally deciding you've teased enough, teased yourself enough, that you start sucking and licking and biting down Frank's body with purpose. Paying special attention to his gorgeous chest through his babydoll top. Getting your mouth on his nipples and making him gasp and arch, get him pulling against the cuffs with his squirming. Stopping just above the waistband of those perfect lace panties he surprised you with earlier in the evening. Sucking bruises into his skin in a line along the edge of the fabric before mouthing along his cock that's been so hard for so long now. Listening to all those pretty sounds you're pulling from him, hearing them pitch up in volume when you pull his panties down just enough to get your hand around him.

God, you'd have to stuff that lace in his mouth because Jesus fucking Christ, he's being so loud, so fucking mouthy. It's not like it does a goddamn thing though. You swear it only makes him louder.

Hearing his muffled pleas for you to fuck him already. Begging so nicely for you, being such a good boy for you. Maybe you'd sink into him so slow, your dick or strap stretching him just on the best side of too much and fucking him slow, deep, and fucking relentless. You'd tell Frank to keep being a good boy and stay still. His thighs shaking with the effort of staying still for you. He'd want to be good, has to be your good boy.

Begging you to keep fucking him until you come, he wants to make you come, needs to feel you come in him/come because of him.

Yeah, this is definitely a great fucking thought.

-ChronicArsonist

[chidoroki]

Heavenly Delusion EP2

aka: NO ONE HERE IS NORMAL

Ah we get the OP this week and that real quick frame of a “game over” screen with our two protags with the options being “continue?” or “kill” is very concerning!

Wait what’s the back of Maru’s hoodie say? “We are neither machines nor..” what? It gets cut off!

The art style keeps changing and honestly I kinda dig it? Especially when it goes line-less, like that once sequence of Kiruko running where it literally looks like she’s chasing her outlines.

I was so focused in trying to figure stuff out that I didn’t really listen to the song.. but I’ll give it another listen now. And I like it.

What’s going on with wheelchair boy’s arm? Is that why we always see him in a bed or wheelchair? Or is this mark a result of something weird?

I’m all for loving whomever you want but aren’t y’all just children?? like that was more than just a simple kiss man!

The hell is with these kids? Last ep it was Taka doing parkour and now this Kuku chick is jumping and clinging to trees like a damn frog.

Why. are kids. sending shower pics. to each other??

Tokio really does have a collection of Kona’s drawings. I’m sure they got some kind of meaning.

What on earth is in the window? Also, this man-eater has a name? Hiruko? What, were they people before?

“She fed us some sort of drug to put us to sleep.” Yeah I thought of that last week too after the fact. Maru fell asleep way too quick for someone who is always up longer than Kiruko, and the inn owner didn’t eat any herself either.

Oh hold up, I can read the back of the hoodie now. “We are neither machines or game pieces.” … That still concerns me greatly! Could they really be part of a game? Or a dream reality? Maybe they got multiple lives? Answers would be GREAT right about now.

That certainly is one hell of a creepy monster, what the fuck? It’s got different attributes of several animals and it has ultrasonic whip things or something?

I love that even in the middle of an intense chase scene they still choose to give our protags some funny faces.

Ah shit, that thing is the lady’s son? That’s why she didn’t want our duo to go out and hunt it..yet she had a huge gun herself.

“I was almost eaten by one, so I know..” Well that explains her scars from before.

Yeaaahh I knew that death was coming. Rest in peace lady. So much for thinking that monster was protecting her.

Aw, I like how Maru accuses Kiruko of only thinking about defeating the monster instead of the lady who just died but turns out she was already shedding tears.

How do you both expect to kill this creature though..? The gun is out of shots and Maru, I know you were strong against those thugs last time, but could your hits really hurt this thing?

… Huh? He touched it and some weird spirit hand went inside it to crush a heart? Maybe? Help??

What was this Great Disaster huh? But damn Kiruko really is bad with numbers, she can’t remember how old she was for anything.

“The only thing I can kill is Hiruko!” Oh is that the collective name of the monsters? I thought it was just the last one individually.

Jesus christ that was such a hard ass fall! Taka has gotta be dead. Or got a concussion or broken something. No way in hell he gets up fine from that.

BRO HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU LIVING??

“There’s a guy with the same face as me out there somewhere.” Okay but how do YOU know that Maru?? And why we gotta inject this person with a drug? This show is good at keeping SECRETS.

Who’s this Mikura now? Oh, his mom maybe? Or whoever this lady that give Kiruko the job and gun to protect Maru.

And she has the same kind of weird marking over her body as the kid from earlier with the wheelchair.. that boy ain’t gonna make it huh?

Oh god so there really were crocs in the water they just sailed over. That’s hilarious. They had every reason to freak out then!

They’re both very trusting to eat the nice food these farmers prepared for them when the last person who offered them a meal drugged them!

Kiruko does kinda look like this Kiriko Takehaya kart racer but not quite the same, however she did react to the whole “killing your brother” thing.. so maybe they are similar? Somehow? Maybe it’s like whatever is going on with Maru and Tokio and how those two look alike.

OH LOOK. A symbol with some kind of bird in it. How very Promised Neverland of you!

Oh, well I picked up the little hints that Maru might’ve felt some kinda way towards Kiruko but I wasn’t actually expecting him to outwardly say them?!

“My body is a woman’s, but in here, my mind is a man’s. So.. I’m a man.”  Are we saying like..by choice? In which case good for you. Or like.. due to some crazy experiment because that’s the vibes this show gives me with these kids being anything but normal? And maybe that’s why she..? he? this person can never remember the correct age.

Mmm the ending is nice too. I might like the song better than the OP? Also, Taka gives me Don (TPN) energy for some reason.

[mizkit]

new blog post: art vs industry

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/art-vs-industry/

art vs industry

Elsewhere a friend posted an image of all the upcoming/in development Marvel projects, of which there were…many…like, over 20…and made a comment about whether it was art or industry.

It turned out I had some feelings on that. :)

I think Marvel walks an interesting line between art and industry. A lot of it’s industry, which is fine because it IS an industry. And since I find, IDK, probably 80% of that industry’s product to be entertaining, I’m pretty happy with that. My problems with the industry aspect of it lie in where they are overworking and underpaying the people, especially the VXF artists, who are carrying so very much of the weight of these films, and in where they’re rushing things that could be good and fail to be because of the headlong pursuit of the Almighty Dollar. So yeah, on that front, I find the industry side problematic.

On the other hand, it’s an artistic industry by its nature, in which they occasionally they strive for and achieve Art, and I think those moments, those films, are sublime, and they actively bring me joy: Winter Solider is as good a spy film as there is, and Black Panther is a stunning achievement on basically every level.

But I also get to-my-toes-thrills out of many of the rank commercialism moments: Bucky flipping that motorcycle makes me go whuff every time, I was in the theatre shrieking my head off when Cap finally said “Avengers, assemble!”, and I burst into tears (I am in fact tearing up now remembering it) when they brought all the Marvel women together for that one big shot. That’s what I wanted. Was it art? Hell if I know, but it made me happy, which is what really matters to me.

I think I’m really not very precious about ‘art’, though, honestly. I’m a working artist. I make my own living mostly through industry: I write paranormal romance because it sells and I need to pay the rent and the bills and for my kid’s clothes. Out of the 50+ books I’ve published, I think probably three of them are what I’d consider art, and that, IDK, 60% of the others have moments of the sublime/active artistic beauty and merit. I think the other 40% are fun, and that’s their job. They’re meant to be escapist. Maybe there are some life lessons or really important moments in them for other people. I’d like to think so, but mostly I want to make readers happy for a little while, and I’m told it works.

And that’s what most Marvel movies & tv do for me. If I want Art with a Capital A, I’ll watch something else. I’ll watch, IDK, August: Osage County, which is the last film I went to on purpose that I thought would make me cry (the last one i went to that i DIDN’T think would make me cry which i FRICKIN’ SOBBED THROUGH was IF, holy god, I was not prepared, Jesus H Christ). I’ll watch Portrait of a Lady on Fire, or…IDK, man. There’s plenty of it available if that’s what I’m after. But the truth is, I’m usually not looking for Art. I’m already emotionally ground down and worn out and I rarely want to watch movies that are going to depress me or making me cry or even, honestly, expect me to think all that much, most of the time. Too much of what we sell as Art is bleak instead of uplifting, and man, there’s enough bleak to deal with already.

I suppose the point is mostly that I don’t think art and industry are separate beasts. I think the idea that artists shouldn’t make any money to keep their art pure is fucking nonsense. I think the Marvel films employ tens of thousands of people in artistic endeavors ranging from headline actors to costumers to lighting designers to construction workers and on and on. From that perspective, arguably there’s very little as artistic as a Marvel production in the modern world.

I don’t think that most of the time they’re…they’re not Loving Vincent kinds of Art, where a film about Vincent Van Gogh was turned into a living painting in an act of single-minded dedication and passion, but it’s difficult to argue, in my opinion, that the Marvel films don’t have something to say about the human condition. We love the visual theatrics of the superhero powers, but it was Vision’s line, “What is grief, if not love persevering?” that actually brought us to our knees. Tony’s and Cap’s ability to almost connect and then the frustration of their failing to is what twists our heart. If Rocket’s excavated rage in Guardians 3, and the entirety of Wakanda Forever, offering catharsis to hundreds of millions of people who had suffered a shocking loss together, isn’t art, then I don’t know what the hell is.

So, yeah. I guess I think it’s a false dichotomy, and I get why people are frustrated with the commercialization of the art, but, like. That’s how it works! Comics have always been commercial! Pantheons have always been there to sell you something! Movies are a commercial product! Do I think it’s arguably problematic that it seems like the only movies/tv people are watching (or at least, going to the theatre for) seem to be the big smash-em-up escapism thing?

…no. No, actually, I really, really don’t. I think the problem is that the world is exhausting and movies are very, very expensive, and if you’re going to choose A Thing to spend your probably-very-limited entertainment budget on, it’s completely reasonable to choose The Thing that everybody else is going to see! The water cooler movies! We all went to Barbenheimer! We all went to Deadpool & Wolverine! We’re all gonna go to…I don’t actually know what the next actual must-see movie is gonna be, let’s call it Minecraft bc that seems sure to make pundits mad that people are going to it instead of, IDK, The Bikeriders!

We’re not doing that because we Hate Art, we’re doing it because there’s still a pandemic on and we can only afford a theatrical release film once a quarter if we’re lucky and if we’re gonna go to one at all we want it to be the one we can talk about with everybody else! The rest of it can wait 3 months (or less!!!) until our family of 4 can watch it for the cost of the streaming service that we’re paying for anyway, with homemade popcorn and a pause button for when we’ve drunk our body weight in Pepsi but don’t want to miss any of the movie!

Did I get off track? Yes! Do I feel strongly about this? Also yes! Did it turn out that further discussion with my friend determined we meant different things by ‘art’ and ‘industry’ and am I going to yhave to write an entirely different post in response to that? Also-also yes! Am I going to stop writing now because I can’t think of a good wrap-up paragraph? Also-also-also yes! :)

[offthefieldsmau]

⚽ 2.177

Interrupting the heartwarming conversation between Pippin and Faramir, the doorbell rang three chimes. Faramir’s lines carried from the living room to the door: “Proud. Stubborn, even.” Gizmo snaked between Stede’s legs as he turned and watched the TV before opening the front door, “But strong,” Faramir said definitively.

“I think you have strength of a different kind,” Pippin said, and suddenly, Stede felt tears well behind his eyes, “And one day your father will see it.” 

Oh fuck— Stede did not need this right now. Quickly, Stede cleared his throat and wiped at his face so he could face his surprise visitor without tears in his eyes.

Behind the bright yellow door stood a party.

Stede stilled; hand on the doorknob, he took in the group. They were dressed in the most…ridiculous cosplay Stede had ever laid his eyes on. Ridiculous in the sense that even from the dingy lighting of his front porch, Stede could see the craftsmanship:

Jim’s armor and the detailed Tree of Gondor inlaid on the breastplate, Lucius with Sting on his belt and the Lorien leaf with silver veins clasping a fine cape around his shoulders, and Oluwande in the most ridiculous Gandalf the White cloak with a staff and beard to match. Roach and Pete were behind them, also in Hobbit-esque attire; a colorful waistcoat like Merry on Roach and a Pippin-like scarf around Pete’s neck. They looked like a proper Comic Con cosplay troupe and it made Stede’s heart throb in over-full fondness for the lengths they went for him.

“Okay, so,” Lucuis started, his nervous hands fluttering from beneath the cloak, “we know you’re fucking pissed at us. And you have every right to be angry, of course; we fucked up. But it was never with the intent to hurt you or make you feel like we didn’t care, babe. We care so much and we thought, like a bunch of dickheads, that we were doing you a favor instead of, like, talking to you—”

“And we never meant to dishonest with you,” Olu spoke up and stepped closer, the staff tapping against the cement, “We just wanted to keep a good thing going for the kids, and we were worried that your…very special and intense brand of caring might interfere—”

“But we should have sat you down and talked to you about it,” Jim interjected, “like adults. And we definitely should not have used something like…” they gestured to the group’s ensemble, “this as a way of avoiding the topic. That’s really fucking unfair to you.”

“So we’re sorry,” Roach added, “and we love you.”

“Yeah!” Pete perked up, “You’re not just Team Dad, but you’re our Dad Friend. And we love all your, like, weird interests—”

“Pete—” Lucius sighed and when Olu griped, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

“What? It’s true—” 

“Listen,” Stede finally said, drawing their attention back to him, “this is all incredibly kind of you. And I really, truly appreciate the apology, but—”

Faramir’s words crept in from the living room, “If I should return, think better of me, Father.” Stede watched the scene as a tearful Faramir walked away from his father. Suddenly, as the King spoke his words, Stede was hit with it all at once:

“That will depend on the matter of your return.” Denethor said coldly. Stede had been so cold to them, his friends. He was hurt, but— god, this behavior wasn’t like him! He wasn’t some cruel prick like the King; pushing everyone away when all Stede wanted was them to be close.

Tolkien came in and grabbed Stede by the fucking throat once again; from beyond the grave and for the umpteenth time. Stede blinked, sighed, and blinked again— when did those tears start bubbling over?

“...But?” Olu asked. 

“But nothing,” Stede threw the door open, “get the hell in here, we’re having a movie night.” What proceeded was a bone crushing hug that completely encased Stede in all he ever wanted; love, friendship, community—

A fellowship. Stede got his fellowship back.

[stevebabey]

oh my god oh my god hearing about little bits of this as you were writing it just made the build up to it BETTER and it delivered in every single WAY!!! GOD IT'S SO GOOD!!! i want to chew on this fic like a frickin polly pocket shoe it makes me INSANE!!!!

have sum thoughts of my fav moments i had to reread nd then squish my face into my pillow

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 have had time to poison the lemonade."

THE ENTRANCE! STEVE FALLING INTO THE POOL !THE ENTIRE SWEETNESS OF THE MEETING!!! politely i am melting over here, i love the scattering set ups of debbie's character and just the dynamic to come because steve is so so endeared by r just- UGH!!!

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his legs 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?"

just... [buries my face in my hands and YELLS] HIM TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO FLIRT !! THEM NOT QUITE LANDING WITH R BUT HE JUST INSISTS HE KEEPS TRYING HE WANTS TO DO NICE THINGS FOR YOU. sanne ur so terribly wonderful for writing this i will be yearning for it for weeks

"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."

don't actually know how you expect me to normal after reading that jesus christ - the chemistry between this is SO FRICKIN DELICIOUS

"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 on my knees there are tears on my faces sweet jesus nothing gets me like a smidge of hurt/comfort in the exact right spot and FUCK if this doesn't hit the spot!!!!! i am going BANANAS!!!! you're his favourite rock girl!!!! he is unbearably gentle with you!!!!! i need him so bad!!!!!

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky.

^ this line is just dope as fuck and i read it and went WOAHHHH i love that description

10s across the board. i have no notes other than i adored this and i'm hoping a love this sweet will sink into my own life. i have said it before but i genuinely like tear into the way you write i am ravenous for it and i always come away like damn!!! i want to write like that!!! you're so frickin talented and rereading all those little snippets made me want to reread so that is exactly what i'm gonna do hehehehe MWAH

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.”

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

Night Shift Vents

AO3

If people were asked to describe you, they would use soft words.  

Shy, sweet, sympathetic, selfless, 

Kind.  

But to be completely honest? You think that’s bullshit.  

Sure, the person you show others is this fragile thing, but inside? The one thing that comes to your mind is feral. A caged animal.  

You are a angry, selfish, prideful, and envious person. Extremely envious. 

You look people in the face “Of course ma’am any time! Thank you for your patience! We hope to see you soon!” Big puppy dog eyes and a bright little smile; you mean ‘shut the fuck up, don’t look in my direction again. Don’t tell me how to do my job and Jesus fucking Christ, don’t come back’ And immediately grimace at their turned-backs. A snarl-teeth bared. In all honesty? You are quite childish for a grown woman.  

So? Are you really as nice as people say? As they think? It’s not like you actually say or do anything to make anyone upset. You wouldn’t dream of it. You’ve been told, actions speak louder than words.  

But, its what’s inside that counts. Right?  

All this to say, you don’t understand Izuku.  

*For the record, you are not the most aware person out there; some might even say oblivious. Once again, however, this is not about what others will say, but what you believe yourself to be. You would rather describe yourself as, constantly in denial.  

How else would you explain getting so close to a certain green-haired man? He came in every night around 3 am, into your lonely graveyard shifts. Sometimes he was the only customer you would have all night; and at others you couldn’t even call him a customer “just wanted to say hi. I don’t want you to get lonely at night” he would bashfully explain not able to look you in the eye, after you had wondered out loud whether he was gunna keep the nonexistent line waiting or buy something. You think he must work late hours like you-maybe at a gym? He always looks tired. One of those opened 24/7, that would explain the abundance of muscle. And not to be rude, but some nights he definitely smelled like he ran a mile and thought that body spray would be enough to save the noses of those around him. Yeah, definitely a gym.  

 Never would you have connected the dots and thought of him as a Pro Hero. Why would you? Why would a Pro talk to a lowly 7/11 employee. Why spare you the time of night.  

So, you got to know Izuku. He was a little pathetic if you were being honest. But then again, you thought many guys pathetic. It was a term of endearment to you at this point. Ternurita. The first time he came in to your life you barely acknowledged him, only looking up when you heard the crash. It seemed to echo in the empty store. You don’t know how it happened, but this man had managed to topple over a whole aisle of snacks. You’ve hit those things before too, full body weight, they barely budged; you were almost impressed with this man's destructive ability. Almost. You might have been if not for the fact you were the only employee who worked the night shift. Lonely, sleep deprived, you. Meaning this mess was all gunna have to be on you. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath-calming yourself before speaking to this green haired mess. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” You tried to sound concerned for him, but it had been a long night, like every other night this week. You were tired, and your voice was doing a shitty job of hiding it. Putting up this caring front was likely going to be the last good deed you did tonight. “I AM SO SORRY! I'll clean it up!” was the man's instant reply.  

“It's fine, don’t worry about it. It'll give me something to do.” you pause, a yawn escaping you “it's been a slow night anyways” You meant it. Yes, you might have originally been annoyed at him and you were a naturally angry person, but not an easy to anger one. You found it especially hard to be upset at this customer. Especially with that stupid guilty face he had on-and-and, was he tearing up?  

“No, really! I'll clean it up, it was my fault, please.” practically begging, already scrabbling to pick up a variety of chips, cookies, cards all scattered around the cold tile floor. 

You shrug, lean on the counter, hand on your cheek, you nod at the broom in the corner “well, if you insist” you smile.  

He stops, pressing the assortment of items to his chest. He looks surprised. Likely hadn't expected you to give in so easily. But you were tired; if this man wanted to do your job for you, so be it. You didn’t like fighting. This little staring contest was starting to drag. You lift an eyebrow at him, smile disappearing, and motion towards the broom again “do you not know how to use it or something?" That snaps him out of it.  

He jerks, almost ruining what little cleaning he had done. “NO! I mean, YES! Sorry. Yes. I-I do know how to broom. I mean SWEEP! Sweep. Sorry, sorry, it's been a long night.” damn, it sure looks like it. You hadn't noticed the dark circles until now, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Exhausted.  

Eventually, after watching this poor guy work for a solid 5 minutes, you decided to take mercy on him and lend a hand-sure, he said he knew how to sweep but knowing how to do something and knowing how to do it right are two different things. If you didn’t help, you had a feeling you two would be here well into the next shift. No thank you.  

“By the way, you didn’t answer my question” you hadn't really made an attempt at conversation since the two of you began your clean up act, each occupied with their own designated section. The only thing filling the silence, the radio station on loop barely able to herd.  

Dropping the chips in his hand, startled, lost in thought. God, this man was a jumpy mess. And you thought you were anxious. “I’m Sorr-”  

“Stop apologizing”  

“Sorr-” he cuts himself off, another bashful smile, shoulders hunched up, trying to look smaller. Hilarious with how much presence this man took up in this empty store. 

“I don’t believe I heard your question” 

“When you first managed to topple half the store over, I asked if you were, okay?” You hadn't meant it then, but he had stayed and actually helped. Many people would have made an excuse after finding out that yes, you would like some help cleaning up THEIR mess. So yes, you wanted to know. “Are you okay?” 

“it's been a long night” he smiled at you; a small sad thing, like that explained it. You guess it did.  

Even if he had confided in you some dark horrible truth, what would you have said? You already hated it when people said anything but the socially appropriate ‘fine’, ‘good’, ‘great’. To your “How are you today!?” spiel.  

You ended up just giving him his stuff for free. A small part of you giving in to that memory of those teary eyes. Ramen noodles, a few dozen energy drinks, along with a handful of granola bars-the actual healthy ones, in other words, the gross ones- he argued about it for longer than necessary, you contemplated just taking back your charity but others would also describe you as stubborn, and you would be inclined to agree with this one. You won in the end, but not without the man offering you a ‘tip’ “I’m gunna pocket all of this” you told him, smirking. 

 “I was hoping you would,” soft smile, a contrast to your own expression. “and again, I am really sorry”  

You had rolled your eyes, good-naturedly “it's no problem really. I was falling asleep anyways. This got me up” you finally returned his kind smile.  

You thought that would be the last of your green-haired stranger. 

Part 2 Part 3

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

[bored-writer101]

{Eddie Munson X Reader} I Promise

A/N: this is how i’m coping after watching volume 2. fuck the suffer brothers (gender neutral reader except eddie calls the reader sweetheart and princess)

Warnings: mentions of blood and life threatening injuries, lots of angst but with a happy ending, major stranger things 4 spoilers

Summary: After you defeat One, you run back to your best friend, Eddie. You promised him you’d make it back alive to tell him a big secret you’ve kept from him for a long time.

Words: 1397

(not my gif)

One was dead. You had finally killed him. You had finally won. You didn't have much time to celebrate your victory before a horrifying image flashed in your mind. You didn't even speak before you took off running out the front door and toward the woods. Steve, Robin, and Nancy ran after you, trying to keep up.

Your adrenaline was so high that you couldn't even feel the ache in your legs that surely would have started by now. The image of Eddie being attacked by those demobats made you push on. All you could think of was getting back to him. You promised him that you would, and you intended to keep that promise.

"Eddie... I have something I want to say" you had pulled Eddie off to the side so no one could hear what you were about to tell him. "I think you're gonna want to say it pretty fast then, sweetheart" you felt your stomach flip at the pet name. "If I don't make it-" he cut you off quickly.

"Don't say that; we're gonna make it"

"But-"

"No but's" he reached out and held your cheeks in his hands. You could feel the cold metal of his rings against your warm skin. His calloused thumbs rubbed across your cheeks soothingly. "We are both getting out of here alive. We did it once before, so another time won't hurt, right?" you nodded, the heavy feeling in your chest refusing to go away.

"You have to promise me you'll come back. So you can tell me that little secret of yours" you felt your eyes begin to well up with tears. "You have to promise you'll be alive when I get back" you said with a shaky voice.

"I promise, sweetheart"

"Good. I promise too"

"Good" Eddie pulled your head towards him slightly, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead. He pulled away with a large smile.

“Alright, let's get a move on!" you heard Steve yell from behind you. You headed over to the rest of the group before heading your separate ways.

"See you soon!" Eddie called out as you headed toward the woods. You turned to look over your shoulder to see Eddie with his hand high in the air, hand waving back and forth vigorously. You chuckled before lifting your hand to wave back.

That was the last you saw him. Now you were trying to get back to him. You had to tell him how you felt.

It didn't take long for you to make it to the edge of the forrest. You could see Eddie's trailer in the distance before you even exited the woods. When you did break through the tree line, your eyes scanned the large clearing for your best friend. You were getting more and more worried as you didn't see him.

Finally, you saw something in the distance off to your right. It looked like Dustin was sitting on the ground with Eddie laying in his lap. "Oh no..." you mumbled before taking off sprinting towards them. Tears blurred your vision as you ran.

You skidded to a stop as you fell to your knees in front of Dustin. You ignored the pain in your scraped knees as you assessed the situation.

Dustin looked up at you with red, watery eyes, tears still streaming down his face. "I couldn't-I couldn't stop him. I couldn't do anything. I...I..." Dustin said between sobs. You reached out and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. Steve, Robin, and Nancy made it there only a few moments after you. "Jesus christ..." you heard Steve sigh deeply. "Oh god, is he...?" Robin's voice trailed off, not wanting to accept that Eddie was really dead.

"No way, man. Those bat fuckers took a huge chunk out of me, and I'm still standing" Steve said before he kneeled down on the pavement next to you. He reached his hand out, pressing two fingers to the side of Eddie's neck. You reached out too, grabbing Eddie's hand as Steve checked for a pulse. "It's faint, but he's still got a pulse. He's not dead, but he will be soon if we don't don't do anything"

You and Steve quickly got to work. Shirts and jackets were ripped into makeshift bandages that you wrapped around Eddie's torso. Those bats had bitten off way more flesh off Eddie than they had off Steve. You bandaged him the best you could before heading back to his trailer.

Steve managed to carry Eddie the few hundred feet back. You all made it back through the gate safely. You and Steve quickly gathered up any first aid supplies you could find before getting to work on properly bandaging Eddie's wounds.

Once you were finished, Steve made sure you were alright before leaving you alone with Eddie. You held his hand, squeezing slightly as you felt tears begin to fall from your eyes again. "Eddie?" you whispered. He laid still, his chest slightly rising and falling with each breath. "Eddie, it's Y/N. Please wake up" you pleaded through sobs.

"I can't lose you because I... Because I love you" you didn't even know if he could hear you, but you needed to say it to him. You felt guilty for not saying it to him earlier, and you felt even more guilty for not insisting to stay with him and Dustin.

"I've loved you ever since I met you when I joined hellfire. I thought you were the coolest guy I had ever met. No one understands me like you do, Eddie. So for the love of god please wake up!" you raised your voice slightly at the end, your voice breaking.

"Woah, no need to shout, princess" Eddie's voice was hoarse and quiet. "Eddie?! I thought you might not wake up. I thought I was going to lose you" tears continued to stream down your face.

"You can't get rid of me that easy" Eddie slowly lifted his hand to reach out and cup your cheek. He wiped the tears away before rubbing his thumb across your cheek comfortingly. The look in his big brown eyes was one of pure adoration.

"Did you, uh, happen to hear anything I said just now?" you asked tentatively. "Maybe" Eddie replied with a shrug and a small smile. You shook your head as a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"I love you too" he said suddenly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you that"

"All it took to get us together was the end of the world, huh?" you said with a laugh. "If that's what needed to happen for us to get together, I wish the world would have ended sooner" you could feel your cheeks begin to heat up and your stomach did flips. "Me too" you whispered before leaning in slowly.

Eddie leaned up as much as he could until your lips met his. He brought his free hand up to tangle it into your hair as he squeezed your hand. You cupped both sides of his face, pulling him closer as you kissed him passionately.

You pulled away after a few moments, your hands not leaving each other as you panted, trying to catch your breath. "Holy shit..." you whispered. Eddie let out a bark of a laugh before he winced. "Yeah, holy shit is right"

"Shit, Are you alright?" you questioned him, worried he might have hurt himself from laughing too hard. "I just kissed the girl I've been in love with for five fucking years. I'd say I'm doing way better than alright"

You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "What are we gonna do, Eddie?" Eddie knew you were referring to the fact that everyone still thought he was a murderer. "We'll figure it out later, I promise. Right now I'd really love to smoke a joint with you" you laughed. "Still got your priorities straight even after you almost died, huh?" you said with an amused smile. "Of course! But give me one more kiss before you go!" you laughed again. "Before I go across the room?" you questioned. "It's too far! Now just kiss me again, please" how could I ever say no to that? You thought as you leaned in and kissed him lovingly

[foli-vora]

stay with me

A/N: LMAO where did this even come from? No idea. Dave decided to back the fuck up for a small while and let me finish a Whiskey WIP. I’m still new with the whole smut thing so please forgive me if it’s not decent! Let me know what you think! ☺️❤️

❗️It’s been bought to my attention that the creator of the GIF I’ve used isn’t correct—it was made by, and all credit goes to, @interstellarflare! Thank you for the heads up @rebelforthebadtimes ❗️

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x f!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: STRICTLY 18+, minors please exit the vehicle! Swearing, mentions/descriptions of oral sex and p in v sex, hand job, cum eating (if there’s anything else, please let me know!)

+

The hammock sways softly in the cool spring breeze, the sun shining through the canopy of apple trees towering above you, holding you steadily suspended from the ground. The clucks of distant hens echo in your ears, tangling with the occasional buzz of an insect flying past, but all overwhelmed by the steady thump of a strong heartbeat in your ear as your head rests on a sturdy chest.

“You awake, darlin’?” The husky baritone vibrates beneath your cheek, your heart fluttering as it melts into your ear.

You hum lowly, tiredly. “Barely.”

“I really need to get goin’ now.”

“Five more minutes.”

Jack chuckles deep in his chest, your head jolting slightly as he does so. His hand is warm, fingertips calloused, as he rubs along your brow bone with a gentle rhythm, almost lulling your body to sleep. You make no effort to move from your position half on top of him, keeping your leg hitched comfortably around his thighs.

“Now sugar, you said five more minutes a good twenty minutes ago.” He tries to sound stern, like you’re causing him a great inconvenience, but he doesn’t move; doesn’t pat your leg as a sign to let him up. He stays perfectly comfortable, enjoying the sunshine and warmth of your body pressing into him.

“Mmm,” you nuzzle into his chest, fingers drawing random patterns into the soft fabric covering it. “Don’t go.”

He groans softly, arm briefly tightening around your body. “Darlin’, don’t do this to me.”

“Stay with me,” you purr quietly. He watches through fond eyes as your own flutter open and gaze up at him, his heart skipping a few beats as the rays of spring sun paint your skin. “Please?”

You watch the struggle play across his face, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay here at home with you rather than go on this mission. You knew it was wrong to feel like this—he had told you about his job early in the relationship and how he’d be away a lot... it was fine and you supported him, but today you were just feeling needy. He eventually shakes his head with a tired sigh.

“You know I can’t.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Not even if I... I don’t know... gave you an incentive to stay?”

“Darlin—”

His breath hitches as your finger traces lower, weaving between the buttons of his shirt before dancing along the waistband of his pants. You loved him in his work suits, all clean and fancy. Usually he would change and leave, but this particular day he let you lure him into your embrace, grumbling about creases but still climbing into the hammock nonetheless.

“We could move to the bedroom—you could spread me out on the bed... or bend me over in front of the mirror like the other day... you liked that, didn’t you Jack? You liked making me watch myself while you fucked me.”

His frame, previously relaxed, is rigid beneath you, muscles coiled and winding tighter with each word you breathe so prettily into his ear. He remembered... your eyes locked onto your face, a beautiful mess of tears and sweat, mouth open and singing his praises as he drilled into you from behind, a firm hand weaving into your hair to keep your head up when it started dropping.

“Or do you want your cock in my mouth? You know how much I love it, Jack. You’re so big, baby. I always make such a mess...”

He sees you on your knees, pretty eyes blinking up at him while you gag around his length, saliva smearing along your cheek when he pulls back and smooths his swollen tip along your jaw. He watches you watch him, wide watery eyes locked onto his hand jerking his cock in open admiration. You hear the catch in his breath, the tell tale sign of his impending release, and open your mouth, watching his face crumble in ecstasy as thick ropes of cum paint your tongue and cheek.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I ever seen.”

“Yeah? You like it when I’m messy? Like it when you cum all over my face?”

Shit. He was throbbing and you hadn’t even touched him yet. His hips twitch, the movement causing his pants to rub along his cock and he fights to keep his resolve. What was he meant to be doing again? Right, leaving...

“Fuck sweetheart, I really have to go—”

He doesn’t look at his watch. He doesn’t need to. He knows he’s already a good hour late. Champ is going to string him up alive—

His nostrils flare as your fingers move to his belt, releasing the clasp and unzipping his fly slowly. Your lashes flutter as you blink innocently up at him, tongue momentarily peaking from between your lips to moisten them. He watches the movement hungrily, eyes darkening as your teeth bite down onto your bottom one.

“Or we could stay right here. We’re so comfortable, after all.” You breathe, fingers lightly running the velvety skin you could feel between the open zipper. “You love my hand, don’t you, Jack?”

His teeth mash together as you delicately free him for the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around him and giving an experimental jerk. He curses quietly, eyes squeezing shut as your thumb rubs at the drops of precum gathered on the swollen head and you watch it smear, glistening in the rays of soft sunlight. Jack’s incoherently mumbling as your hand starts to pump slowly, and it brings a small smile to your face.

“If you want me to stop, just say so and I will.”

His head is violently shaking from side to side before he can even think it through. He needs to leave—this is his job, people are depending on him but oh... oh fuck... how could he go anywhere with your hand doing that? Just five more minutes... five more... Christ—

“Don’t you love me, Jack?”

His brows pinch together, hips bucking into your hand as you move too slow for his liking. “Of—fuck—o-of course I do, baby—”

“But you’re leaving me...” Your grip tightens and his mouth pops open.

“Sweet Jesus—I’ll never... fuck baby—I’ll never leave you.”

Your thumb rubs over the tip again and he jolts, the hammock swinging under the sudden action. “No?”

“N-never—I wan’... I wanna give you e-everything.”

“Everything?”

He nods, groaning when you finally speed up. You reach up to kiss along his throat, nipping sharply at the skin before soothing it with a hot swipe of your tongue. He curses again, head turning and seeking your lips out. You indulge him, mouth opening when his tongue hungrily swipes along your lip and then he’s in your mouth, tongue raking along your teeth and then sliding passionately along yours.

You speak against his lips, “You gonna stay with me, Jack? Or should I stop? You’re so late, I should just let you go—” You halt your movements and pull away.

Lightning fast, his hand is covering yours and wrapping it back around his cock, leading your pumps as he growls lowly, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare—”

“You staying with me?”

He nods, face slack and mouth hanging open as you work him closer and closer to the edge, stomach tightening.

“Promise?”

“Holy sh—I—fuck—I promise, sugar—”

“Good.”

And then he’s cumming, groaning loudly into your hair, hips spasming wildly as he spills hotly over your hand and onto his pants. He sucks in a breath, twitching in your grip as you slow your movements and milk him for everything he has. He feels you shift and peaks an eye open to watch you bring your hand to your mouth, groaning deeply when your tongue peaks out and collects the cum from your skin.

“You’re gonna be the god damn end of me, woman.”

-

“I really appreciate you helpin’ me out.”

He shoots you a half hearted glare from where he stands in the corner of the room, phone to ear, and you laugh quietly, legs kicking in the air as they dangle off the bed. Your eyes rake over his frame, taking in his creased shirt and cum stained pants, still undone and giving you a little peak of the neat patch of curls.

Tequila hums down the line, voice deep with mirth, “That little lady sure has got your head in a spin.”

“What are you talkin’ about, kid? I got a migraine.”

Tequila chuckles, “Yeah, okay. Have fun, gramps.”

Jack finishes the call and throws his phone onto the dresser before striding to the edge of the bed. He frowns down at you, but it does nothing to stop the heat curdling deliciously in your belly, the slick between your legs growing under his intense gaze. You bite your lip, grinning up at him innocently.

“You’ve gotten what you wanted, pretty girl, now it’s my turn. Spread those legs—show me that pretty little pussy that’s keepin’ me from earnin’ an honest livin’.”

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

[nanayoungishere]

Play It Cool (Part Nine)

He decided to cook you breakfast.

Though not before staring at your sleeping face for a while.

You looked so peaceful, so content as you nuzzled into his chest. You fit so perfectly in his arms, felt so warm and soft. The little noises you made and the way you clutched him closer, murmuring his new name in your sleep, made him feel as though his heart would burst out of his chest.

He didn’t want to let you go.

But he had to, because your stomach was grumbling in your sleep. He knew you hadn’t eaten much that day, aside from the milkshake at the diner. Too busy completing course work, too busy working, too busy trying to survive another day. You weren’t afforded any time to take care of yourself.

It made him ache, thinking of how much you’ve been suffering. It made him want to cry, thinking about how unhealthy you were.

It made him hate.

Hate your boss, your teachers, your landlord, your whore of a roommate for making you push yourself like this. All those people surrounded you, all those people who supposingly cared for you and none of them even tried to help you? To relieve some of your burdens? None of them cared, despite how utterly perfect you were?

It made his blood boil. It made his hands itch with the need to grab a knife and --

You let out a pained whimper. He snapped out of his thoughts to find that he had clutched you a bit too tight to his chest.

He immediately relaxed, whispering apologies to your unconscious form, rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your face smoothed out, becoming peaceful once more, entangling your legs with his.

“Honey…”

God. He really didn’t want to get up.

But he forced himself to, gently and slowly untangling himself from your arms. You didn’t like that at all, your hands subconsciously grasping out towards him, chasing his warmth, your face set in a heartbreaking expression that made him want to get down on his knees and apologize.

He settled for kissing you. On your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, your neck. His teeth grazing your tender flesh, causing you to shiver and blush. You slumped back into the sheets, overstimulated even in your sleep.

So adorable.

Maybe you made another mess? You got so excited, so quickly. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge.

He licked his lips, his fingers trailing down your clothed body. The sheets, your clothes were still stained. Maybe before he cooked you breakfast, he should clean it up for you? He didn’t want you to wake up feeling uncomfortable after all.

He leaned over you, his eyes darting to your face every now and then to see if you’d wake up.

His tongue unfurled. Just a little taste…

Afterwards he lovingly tucked you in, running his hands through your hair one more time before heading to the kitchen.

Hopefully he had something in his fridge…

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

The moment you woke up, you felt a deep ache in your chest.

And when you sat up, and looked around at the empty room, you realized why.

He wasn’t here.

Maybe he was in the living room? Maybe he went to the bathroom? Maybe he was just outside, in the hallway?

You checked everywhere, looking through closets, checking under beds, underneath the couch. You left no stone unturned and he wasn’t there.

Did he leave me?

No, he couldn’t have. He would’ve kicked you out of the apartment if he didn’t want you here.

He could be with someone else.

No way. He was so interest in you --

Maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s humoring you because he’s sorry your such a desperate freak.

He wouldn’t do that. Honey’s too sweet, too kind and nice to do something like that to you. He wouldn’t hurt you like that.

Right?

Maybe he didn’t leave by himself.

What if someone took him?

No.

No, there’s no way someone could’ve taken him, because if they did --

What if he’s hurt?

What if he’s dying right now?

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no --

Then you saw something out of the corner of your eye. A note taped to the door.

Went out to buy breakfast! I’ll be back in thirty minutes!

Love you darling,

Honey~

The surge of pure relief you felt put you on the floor. You cradled that note to yourself like it was a teddy bear, like it was a lifeline, like it was a priceless, one-of-a-kind jewel that you lucked out into having.

He was just getting breakfast.

He didn’t leave you.

He was fine.

You freaked the fuck out over nothing. Again. Just like you did last night (or was it early morning?) when you tried to fucking tie him up in his sleep.

You carefully set the note aside before cradling your head in your hands and screaming.

Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell were you thinking?! What the fuck possessed you to do something so stupid and illegal and wrong and -- and --

He would’ve hated you. Absolutely, one hundred percent, would have wanted nothing to do with you after that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

But if you kept him to yourself --

How? How the fuck would you have kept him to yourself? There’s no way you would’ve gotten away with it. It was totally a spur of the moment, dumbass, let’s-risk-everything-on-this-poorly-thought-out-decision fuckup! All it would take was him screaming to his neighbors and it would’ve all been over.

But if you planned it out…

If you found a better place…

If you took your time…

You hesitated.

...no. No, no, no, you were not thinking about it. It was wrong and fucked up.

The things you were feeling, the things you were doing, were already bad enough. It was insanity, it was obsessive, it was wrong. And if you crossed this line, if you went this far, then you’d be a monster.

Would that be such a bad thing?

You picked up the note, tracing the words with your finger.

Love you darling

He said he loved you. He said he loved you.

That -- that had to mean something, right? You had to be in a good spot with him, right? The relationship must’ve been going good.

So far.

So you didn’t need to kidnap him. You didn’t need to do something monstrous just to keep him.

Yet.

You rubbed the note against your palms. You could almost feel his fingers trailing across the page, his mind mapping out the words even as his pen wrote across the paper.

Fuck, maybe you should frame it? Keep it hanging up in your room so you could stare at it, forever.

Or maybe you can get it laminated. That way you could lick the page without worrying about the paper getting torn up or the ink running.

You pressed the note to your nose and sniffed. God, you could just about smell him and --

You carefully folded it and put it in your pocket. Then you slapped yourself.

God, get your shit together! Stop being such a fucking freak!

KNOCK KNOCK

You jumped, panic filling you at the thought of Honey seeing you act like such a freak. You immediately started making excuses. “I-I-I wasn’t sniffing your note Honey, I swear!”

KNOCK KNOCK

It was coming from the front door. You breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t see you.

KNOCK KNOCK

You smoothed out your clothes and tried to fix your hair. Shit, you should’ve straightened yourself out earlier! What if he was disgusted because of how much of a fucking mess you were right now?

KNOCK KNOCK

“C-coming!”

You opened the door. “H-hey! Thanks for --”

You stopped. It wasn’t Honey.

“Oh I… didn’t know Peter had guests.”

It was a woman. Young, in her twenties, just about your age. With bright red hair, freckles, red glasses, a heart shaped face, and a fairly curvy figure that all together, would’ve made you think she was cute.

If not for the huge, slashing scar across her face.

From the upper corner of her face, crossing diagonally towards her chin, going through her eye, nose, and lips. Like someone had taken a knife and tried to cut her face up, but settled for simply slashing right through. Who knows, someone might have.

“Um…”

You blinked. Oh shit, did she catch you staring? “Sorry, I --”

Then what she said registered.

Peter? Was that Honey’s real name?

Holy shit. You knew his real name!

Peter.

Peter.

Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter

Fuck, that’s such a good name. Way fucking better than Honey. Would it be weird if you started calling him that?

But he really seemed to like it when you called him Honey…

“Oh, it’s fine.”

Oh, she was still talking. Shit, you shouldn’t be ruder than you already were --

“I just wanted to give him these.” She said, holding out a bag. “I left them by his door, but I don’t think he noticed.”

It was a bag of cookies.

In the shape of hearts.

And it wasn’t fucking Valentines Day. Wasn’t even close to February.

So that meant --

You sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes laser focused on the cookies. On the ugly bitch that was holding them.

She was saying something but you couldn’t find it in yourself to give two fucks because it was taking everything you had not to strangle her right then and there because look at her.

Look at her.

Look at this freckled fuck.

Giving him cookies, knowing his real name, showing up at his door like a fucking hooker.

You should've known from the moment you laid eyes on her. Shouldn’t have answered that fucking door.

Fuck, what if Honey (Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter) had been here? Would she have batted her ugly, filthy eyelashes at him, pressed her flabby breasts against him, and tried to take him away?

Had she done that before?

For all you knew… she could be his ex. She could have --

touched him kissed him hugged him talked to him cradled him fucked him

The surge of rage and hatred you felt filled you so quickly and so suddenly that you had to hold the door to keep yourself steady. You could feel your vision blacking out at the edges, could feel your entire body shaking, trembling with the need to --

rip tear crush stab bash slice break hit kill kill kill kill

Because she wanted to take him from you.

Take Honey, your Peter, the love of your life, the one who made you feel, truly feel for the first time in forever. The one you feel in love with, the one who made you feel so happy, so content, the one that filled your dreams, filled your every waking moment with joy and ecstasy.

This woman -- no.

This fucking ingrate wanted to take what was --

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

“...seen him? I just wanted to give these to him before I got back to work.”

You snapped back to reality.

The bitch was staring at you, her ugly, scarred face showing an uncertain expression.

Your fingers flexed. You took a step forward.

I want to kill her.

You heard a door slam. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone step out of their apartment. A man, fiddling with their phone.

He glanced towards the two of you.

Fuck.

It was like you got splashed with cold water. The rage and hatred was still there, but controlled. Contained.

You had to hold it together. You had to keep your cool. Because if you hurt this woman -- if you got caught, which you absolutely would -- then he would know.

And he’d never, ever want anything to do with you again.

You tried to smile. “He’s… not here right now. Just -- just give them to me. I’ll make sure he gets them.”

Her expression fell. “Um --”

You snatched the bag from her hands. “Who are you? What was your name again?”

“Uh, I’m Lizzie Bee,” she said, pointing to herself. “I’m Peter’s landlord.”

Landlord?

Fuck, then you really couldn’t kill her. You’d be putting Honey/Peter out of a home.

“Right. I’m Y/N.” Your smile might’ve turned into a snarl, but who the fuck cared? Not you. “Peter’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look the slightest bit concerned. The whore. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

You resisted the urge to slam the door on her face. “Likewise.”

You watched her walk away, disappearing around the hall. You made sure to take note of where she went before slamming the door.

Without her in front of you, taunting you with her presence, you could feel your rage and hatred subsiding. The urge to kill was fading with every second you got to breathe and collect yourself.

You couldn’t kill her.

You couldn’t kill her.

It was too risky wrong. It was wrong and you knew it was wrong, because you were a normal person.

What normal person falls in love at first sight?

What normal person becomes murderously possessive over someone they’ve only met for a couple of days?

What normal person considers kidnapping the one they love?

Shut the fuck up.

Your hands trembled as you ran them through your hair. You had to make a plan. Had to figure out what to do to deal with that bitch.

You couldn’t lose him to someone else. Just the thought of it was --

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

please

please God don’t let anyone take him away from me please

You felt tears pricking your eyes. You swallowed back a sob, trying to ignore the ache in your chest.

You would figure something out. You had to.

But first, you needed to flush every single one of these cookies down the fucking toilet.

(Previous)

(Next)

[mrs-gucci]

A Different Kind of Urgent {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooooo! my penpal friend, a fellow adam driver rat, sent me a print of a charlie picture (that I’d seen a gajillion times before, mind you) and for some reason, I thirsted hard. so, naturally, I wrote a fic inspired by the picture. the reader in this story is a college professor, but it doesn’t really contribute to any ‘essential’ parts of the story (aka the smutty parts). it’s just her job lol

warnings: smut. some fluff. masturbation. semi-public smut. the sending of nudes (well, lingerie pics, to be specific). charlie’s dad outfits™️. cigarette smoking during sex. uhh tennis shoe kink??

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex. semi-public masturbation. tobacco use (as is canon for Charlie’s character). implied age gap (everyone’s over 21, no more than 10 years).

You’re in the middle of class when Charlie texts you. Your phone buzzes and buzzes on your desk so much so that you have to stop your lecture for a few seconds, worried that something urgent has happened.

Well, something did happen, and it was pretty urgent, but not exactly in the way you’d expected.

-Charlie: I know you’re teaching class right now kid.- -Charlie: But I need you.- -Charlie: Right now.-

A shiver runs down your spine as you read his words on the screen.

-Y/N: I’ve got like 45 more minutes of lecture, baby, I can’t.-

He growls under his breath, cock straining in his tan khakis.

-Charlie: Fuck.- -Charlie: Can you send me a picture? Just need to see your pretty body, kid.-

-Y/N: Say please, Charlie.-

Charlie groans in sexual frustration, hips bucking up in his desk chair.

-Charlie: Jesus fucking christ, fucking brat. PLEASE! PLEASE send me a picture!-

You smirk, picking out one of the lingerie photos you’d taken when you were home alone one night. You’ve been waiting for the right time to whip them out and...well, this seems like the right time.

-Y/N: Attachment 1 image- -Y/N: Knock yourself out. Take a picture when you’re done, and I’ll be over as soon as class is finished.-

His shaky hands scramble to type in his phone passcode and click on your message, a strangled moan leaving his lips at the picture you chose. He’d never seen this one before, never seen this set of lingerie before.  He unbuckles his belt and almost tears the button clean off his khakis as he pulls his cock out, tip already red and drooling with precum. 

Before he starts anything, he quickly runs over to his office door, locking it to keep anyone from walking in. 

His navy cardigan suddenly feels almost suffocating and he sheds it without hesitation, unbuttoning his dress shirt and parting it, revealing his undershirt. 

Wait...you want a picture. Fuck.

An idea comes to him and he whimpers, equal parts aroused and nervous about giving it a try. God he hasn’t touched himself since the divorce proceedings, just needing to blow off some fucking steam, but you’ve reignited his sexual passion, overwhelmingly so, and seemingly even more than before. Maybe even more than ever, if he’s honest with himself.

He feels like a teenager again, both completely smitten with you while at the same time incredibly horny for you.

Charlie stands up on shaky legs and shoves all the paperwork off his desk, clearing a roomy spot right in the center. He bites his lip as he props his phone up on his desktop computer with the picture of you pulled up. Jerking off with just his hand wouldn’t be enough this time around, a small part of him just knew it. He needs to fuck you, fuck something.

He positions his hands around the edge of his desk, leaving his thumbs right at the top, putting them in a wonky sort of ‘o’ shape. He adjusts so that the sharp edge is pressing against his palm before experimentally thrusting his length forward into the hole he’s created with his thumbs, immediately groaning in pleasure. 

“O-Oh, kid.”

He whispers, picking up a slow thrusting rhythm, eyes squeezed shut as he imagines your pussy.

“Such a good little pussy, my good f-fucking girl.” A line of sweat has already begun forming on his forehead as he moves a bit quicker, growling wildly with each thrust. He’s embarrassingly close already. “God, j-jesus fucking christ, gonna make me cum so f-fast, kid. I’m already s-so close, damnit.”

His hips grow desperate, bucking erratically into his grip. The drag of his cock against the faux wood surface feels absolutely incredible, and he barely even hears the desk begin to groan and shift against the floor of his office, too consumed with his impending orgasm.

“Yeah, you ready? Y-You fuckin’ ready for my big fat--fuck!--load in this pretty little--shit!--k-kitty?”

Just hearing him say the word aloud, his nickname for your cunt, has him cumming within moments. His vision blacks out for a second as his hips rut forward, a seemingly continuous stream of warm white cum painting his desktop. 

“Ahhhhh, fuuuuuuuck.”

He has to bury his mouth into his shirt arm to hide the cries that come from him, eyebrows knitted at the center of his forehead. His breathing is heavy as he begins coming down from his high, eyes flitting open and looking down at the mess he’d made. 

His load had gone across the entire width of his desk, and his eyes widened for a moment as his brain somehow comprehended to grab his phone and take a picture of the spread. 

-Charlie: Attachment 1 image- -Charlie: Come straight to my office when you get to the theater.-

You take a quick peek at the message from Charlie as your students pull out their workbooks, jaw dropping when you open the picture full-screen. Holy shit, he really did need it.

-Y/N: You sure you still have enough to fill me up with when I get there?-

-Charlie: I always have enough for you, kid. Gonna have it leaking out of you when you leave.-

You chew your lip, thinking of a quick yet clever response.

-Y/N: Is that a promise?-

He groans under his breath, chuckling lightly with a small smile.

-Charlie: Absolutely. Can’t wait to see you, kid.-

-Y/N: I’m excited too. I’ll be there in 20.-

The twenty minutes it takes for you to finish class and walk over to Exit Ghost feels like some of the longest in Charlie’s life, knee bouncing impatiently and eyes glued to the door. He twirls the Marlboro package in his hand, the clock behind his desk tick-tick-ticking the seconds away. 

Finally, a soft knock comes and, just in case it isn’t you, he stuffs the carton into his pocket. “Come in.”

Your head pokes through the door and you smile at him as you walk in, shutting and locking the door behind you. You immediately notice his outfit, specifically his shoes, which are propped up on his desk. 

He knows that you like how he dresses, especially when he dresses very dad-like. And those sneakers he has, the white ones with the blue lines on them...god, they drive you absolutely crazy and you have no idea why.

Your bags are quickly shoved off your shoulder by the impatient director, pulling you into his body as his lips attack yours fiercely. He notices the way you’re eyeing his outfit, and it’s then that he realizes what shoes he has on, the pair that you like so much. Oh, he could use that.

His grip on the meat of your hips tightens increasingly as the kiss heats up, lips eventually moving down to your neck. 

“Well, hello to you too.”

You say, laughing softly.

“Mmmm,” He hums onto your skin, lips littering kisses and small nibbles everywhere they can reach. “I missed you, kiddo, feels like forever since we’ve had time for something like this.”

Charlie’s large body presses you up against the door, hands eager to rid you of your pants. He quickly yanks them down to your ankles, fingers finding your clothed folds.

“I’ve got a staff meeting at two, baby. We h-have to be kind of quick...sorry.” You breathe, hand wrapping in his hair, tugging at the silky raven locks.

A small and slightly disappointed sigh leaves his lips, but nothing more is said on the matter. His movements do become a bit more rushed, though, digits dipping beneath the fabric to shove up into your entrance. 

Your legs spread instinctively, knees shaking as he finger-fucks you, thick digits scissoring inside you to prepare for his girth. Meanwhile, you try to focus on getting his belt and pants undone, but it’s awfully hard when his fingers feel so damn good.

He pulls away suddenly, sucking the juices off his fingers as his hungry eyes roam your figure. The carton of cigarettes presses against his thigh and he smirks, pulling his digits out with a lewd pop.

Charlie suddenly pulls you off the door, putting himself in your spot instead. He smirks, fingers running under your chin, keeping your head tilted up at him.

“Will you go open the window for me please, beautiful?”

You nod, rushing over to push it open, then come back over to stand in front of him.

“Good girl. Thank you.”

His pointer finger twirls and points to the floor while the other hand grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket.

“Now, turn around and bend over right here, hold your ankles or feet, or whatever.”

As you position yourself accordingly, he leans back against the door, legs spread and sneaker-clad feet planted on either side of you, right within your line of vision. He’s almost fully hard again already as he moves to free his cock from its khaki confines, undoing his pants just enough to have it out. 

Again, his cardigan feels suffocatingly hot, so he quickly pulls it off and tosses it away. He rolls the sleeves up on his button-up, a sight that makes your insides clench.

He jams a cigarette between his teeth, jaw clenching when he looks up and realizes that you’re bent over for him, in just the way he asked. Your glistening pussy’s on full display as you wiggle your ass a bit, his cock bobbing and twitching with excitement. 

“Oh kid, you’re dripping.” Charlie whispers, almost to himself, hand kneading one of the globes of your ass.

You chuckle softly. “Hey, baby? As much as I love hearing and feeling you, my legs are getting kinda tired.”

Laughing, Charlie says a quick ‘sorry’ before holding and pulling your hips back, lining himself up with your soaked entrance. He pulls you back some more, impaling you on his cock, head falling back against the door as he does so. 

His hands shakily ignited the small flame on his lighter, bringing it up until the tip of the cigarette turned orange before flipping the cap back on and shoving it back in his pocket. He takes a long drag, groaning on the exhale. 

He keeps one hand on your hip while the other spreads out on your lower back, guiding you back and forth over his shaft slowly, gently.

“Thaaat’s it, just like this, kid.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the impossibly deep angle created with this new position has it feeling like he’s reaching into your guts. Plus, with the natural up-curve of his cock, he’s brushing all the right spots inside you.

“C-Charlie…”

The familiar and comforting scent of Charlie’s cigarettes fills your nostrils, a haze of smoke surrounds your joined bodies. He continues to move you up and down on his length, buttocks clenching as his hips naturally rock forward, burying himself to the hilt each time you sink down.

“God...jesus christ...love this little pussy of yours, kid.” He breathes through his gritted teeth. “Taking me so nicely, always wrapped around me so goddamn tight.”

You quickly begin moving yourself up and down his stiff rod, bouncing as fast as you can manage. The sweet burn in your thighs only grows more prominent with each passing second, but you don’t care, too consumed in pleasure.

“Mmmmmyyyeah, baby, all for you.”

His hand comes down on your ass, giving it a firm smack before taking another quick drag, exhaling through his nose.

“That’s f-fucking right, all mine. You love being a little slut for this cock, huh? I know you do, you love when I bring you in my office and fuck your pretty cunt in the middle of the goddamn work day, can’t even wait until I get home, this f-filthy slut cunt needs to be split open and stuffed nice and full. Can’t go one fucking day without my cum fucked in you, always needs to be filled up and leaking, hm?”

Charlie was never able to do stuff like this or talk to Nicole like this. She was pretty vanilla when it came to sex, just like to be fucked quietly in bed. He called her a ‘slut’ once and she almost cried, lecturing him for half an hour afterwards on how disrespectful it was.

But now, he gets to explore everything he hasn’t gotten the chance to with you. You love it all, love the way he talks filth in your ear, calls you naughty names. You love getting fucked in all sorts of places, which at first made him a little nervous, cheeks and the tips of his ears bright red when you asked him to fuck you in your classroom or finger you under your dress on the subway. But, after almost a year and a half together, you can safely say that he’s a full-on exhibitionist deviant.

Your walls clamp down around him, eyes still squeezed shut as you feel his hips begin to thrust forward. Soon, he holds you almost completely still, moving his hips as fast as he can. His cigarette is almost ashes at this point, and he kicks himself for not thinking of a good disposal plan beforehand.

“Oh baby, oh baby...f-fuck!” You whine, hips squirming and gyrating as your impending orgasm grows closer. “Y-Yeah, I love it, love everything you do to me. Wanna take every s-single fucking drop of your cum, Charlie, want it inside me, want it dripping down my thighs.”

He almost loses his mind over your comments, drilling into you at an impossibly hard and fast rate, the lewd slapping squelching sound of your hips colliding overwhelmingly prominent in the space around you. 

“You’ll go back to work with so much cum shoved into you, make you sit through your stupid fucking meeting with my cum dripping out of you. B-Better hope no one notices, huh? Better hope your boss doesn’t find out what a good little cockslut you are, how much you love having a pussy-full of your boyfriends f-fucking cum.”

A few muted cries leave your lips as he pounds you harder, his own words spurring him on. He can feel your walls pulsing around him, a sure-fire sign that you’re about to cum. 

“C-Charlie! Charlie, I...I’m close.”

“K-Know you are, kid, I know you are. You’re doing so f-fucking well for me, Y/N, squeezing my big cock like a fuckin champ.” Charlie growls, quickly tossing his spent cigarette in a coffee mug on a nearby table. “And now you’re gonna rub your little clit and cum for me like I know you want to. C’mon, kid, wanna feel you come undone around me.”

You quickly begin rubbing your clit and, despite the odd angle, it brings you right up to the edge. You just need something, just a little something, to push you over the edge. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, but then, you’re met with the sight of his sneakers.

“Goddamnit!” You’re cumming almost instantly, flooding his shaft with your release. “Yes! Oh god, yeah, c-cumming for you baby!”

His hips keep pumping, taking you right through your climax before abruptly coming to a halt when they’re buried as deep inside you as they can possibly be. His eyes go wide before squeezing shut, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as he pumps and shoves his thick creamy load into you.

“T-Take it, f-filthy whore!” He groans, rutting his hips the whole way through, making sure every drop is put inside you.

Once he’s finished, having ridden out his high to its fullest, he tucks himself back into his pants before helping you stand back up. He holds you close, looking down at you with a bright, genuine smile. 

“You’re amazing, incredible...just so perfect.” He kisses all over your face before landing on your lips.

Your cheeks heat up at his compliments, hands weaving through his hair as the kiss deepens. 

Suddenly, someone knocks on your office door, jiggling the doorknob.

“Charlie?”

His eyes fly open and he pulls away. Shit.

“Yeah, I’m h-here, just give me a minute!”

You quickly pull your pants up and jump under his desk to hide just as he opens the door, running a hand through his hair. 

He talks to the person on the other side of the door in a rushed voice, answering their multitude of questions before quickly shutting the door, sighing as you crawl out from under the desk. 

“At least we both got to cum, unlike last time.” You walk up and put your hands on his pecs, rubbing them over the fabric. “I gotta get going though, baby. I wanna grab lunch from the deli before my staff meeting.”

Charlie nods, dipping his head down to kiss you one last time, nuzzling his large nose against yours. 

“Come over tonight, though? Nicole’s in town and she’s got Henry, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I feel like we haven’t spent any quality time together lately.”

Nodding, you smile. “I would love to come over. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Great.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you later, kid. Have a good meeting.”

You laugh as you grab your bag and head out, turning back to wave and flash him a soft smile.

“See you tonight.”

[sinnaminsuga]

Focus

Title: Focus

Summary: your husband Henry wants a quickie in the laundry room while the kids are asleep.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word Count: 1,095

Warnings: SMUT, light bondage, daddy kink, light degradation, dom!henry

A/N: hello! i'm trying to work on my writing skills and i'm not great at writing smut (i'm trying to get better!) so here we go! this is something i had originally started writing for a different fandom i was in a while ago but it just wasn't right so i reworked it and added some stuff and i think it's better now! let me know what you think and thank you for reading! ☺️

Tags: @inlovewithhisblueeyes @littlefreya @oddsnendsfanfics @its--fandom--darling

All three of your rowdy children were settled down for a nap in the middle of the day which in your home, almost never happened. And now that you had a moment of peace your brilliant husband Henry had suggested a quickie while you were loading the washer.

“Really? Right now Bear?” you questioned, blowing your hair out of your face. “Yeah why not? The kids are sleeping so no interruptions.” he said, his voice low and gravelly. You couldn’t deny the fact that he was sexy as all hell making those bedroom eyes at you. So you agreed and you two started to go at it right there in the laundry room.

About fifteen minutes in Henry realized, midstroke, that you weren’t as responsive to his actions as usual. “Darling, you okay?” he asked. “Hmm? Me? Oh yeah! Loving it! Having a great time! Keep goin’ sweetie!” you said, distracted. Henry stilled inside you and his brows furrowed together.

“What could you POSSIBLY be thinking about while I’m balls deep inside you?” he asked, clearly growing annoyed. You began to list the things on your mind. “Bear, I literally have so many things to do. I have to do the laundry, the dishes, meal prep for the kids, grocery shopping, and don’t get me started on this whole carpool thing with Karen- OH!” In the middle of your speech Henry had grown even more annoyed and had slammed his dick directly into your g-spot in an attempt to shut you up. “Jesus christ Hen, warn a girl next time!” you hissed.

Henry’s hand snaked up around your throat and he put his mouth against your ear. “See here is how this is gonna go. I’m gonna stuff your panties in your mouth to keep you from talking. Then I’m gonna flip you over and tie your hands together with this extension cord.” he pointed to the cord sitting on the shelf next to you. “And once you’re good and bound for me just how I like, I’m going to pound this pussy until you’re begging me to stop. And you my dear, are going to take everything I give you like the good little cockslut you are. Okay?” he growled through clenched teeth. At this point all your worries and tasks that were previously running through your brain, came to a complete stop. All you could do was nod and let out a quiet moan of approval as you waited for him to move.

Henry pulled out of you and reached down to the floor to grab your discarded panties. He tapped your lips before whispering “Open up love.” Your lower jaw dropped open and he gently shoved the wadded up fabric into your mouth. “Moan for me sweet thing.” He demanded while reaching down to rub your clit. You moaned and the sound was muffled. “Mmm so good. Sound so pretty when you’re gagged for me.” Henry said with a wicked grin.

He then grabbed your hips and flipped you over so you were bent over the washing machine. Reaching up he grabbed the cord from the shelf and tied a nice knot around your wrists, giving them a quick tug to make sure you couldn’t break free. “Perfect. You ready for me baby?” He asked. Since you couldn’t speak, you nodded excitedly. Satisfied with your answer, he lined up with your entrance and slammed home.

You attempted to cry out but the sound was blocked by the panties in your mouth. Henry was pistoning his hips so quickly that the washer began to rock a bit.

“Yeah? You like that huh? You like just being used don’t you? My pretty little fucktoy. God how’d I get so lucky to marry the sweetest little submissive?” Henry groaned, continuing his assault on your g-spot. Your eyes had rolled back in your head and you were whining as best you could.

“That’s right. Keep making those cute little sounds. You love Daddy’s cock don’t you?” He hissed from behind you. You tried to answer but it was a garbled mess. You were so close to your orgasm and Henry knew it from the almost painful way your walls clenched around him. “You need a little something to help you over the edge darling? Don’t worry. I got ya.” He said with a dark chuckle.

Henry slammed his hand down on the ‘start’ button of the washing machine and it began to rumble. Your clit was pressed to the cool metal and you could feel every vibration. The tears in your eyes spilled over at the immense pleasure and Henry could hear you sniffle. “Aww are you crying sweetheart? Is my dick that good? Yeah it is. Keep taking it. You don’t cum until I say. You know the rules.” He reminded you before delivering a harsh slap to your ass. The pleasure was overwhelming. He hadn’t fucked you this hard in a long time and it felt so good. You wanted to cum so bad but knew his punishment would be ruthless if you broke the rules.

“Fuck you’re squeezing me so tight sweetheart. AGH! Yes yes yes yes. So close.” Henry moaned, still hammering away. “Alright baby we’re gonna come together. You ready? FUCK. Now! Cum now baby.” He commanded and you finally stopped holding your orgasm at bay. You exploded around him and fell limp against the washer as Henry painted your insides with his hot seed.

After you both came down from your highs, he untied your hands and removed the panties from your mouth. He turned you around and lifted you up to sit you on the washer. He brushed the stray tears off your cheeks and brought your lips to his for a slow passionate kiss. “So good for me yeah? Been a long time since we’ve done that huh?” Henry huffed with a laugh, leaning his forehead against yours. You giggled before responding with “Yeah. Felt good. Missed that. Thank you Daddy.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead. “Well now I have to be the other kind of Daddy and go wake the kids up for lunch. But first let me run you a bath okay angel?” He lifted you off the washer, preparing to carry you to the bathroom. “Mmm sounds nice baby. Maybe we can have your mom take the kids this weekend. I need more of what just happened.” You rested your head on his shoulder as Henry began the trek upstairs to the bathroom.

“Anything for you dear.”

THE END

[hopespeak-hs-hostclub]

Wanna Make A Bet?: A Mondo Owada smut request.

18+ ONLY. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18!!!!!

NSFW: request and story under cut

TW:// exhibitionism, public pleasure, chastity belts, orgasm deprivation, cursing

Word Count:// 1,976

“a one-shot featuring mondo oowada practicing exhibitionism please? In the story, he'd go to town to do errands wearing a face mask. In truth, he'd have a vibrator on him with his cock in chastity and his mouth tape gagged under the mask. His objective is to finish his errands without anyone exposing him or him cumming in public. And I kinda imagine that he's doing this out of a dare between his gang members. To show he's a real man whose in control of himself. He would mainly be alone but his gang leaders would look from a distance to see if he hasn't lost yet.”

“Wait bro, you’re what?” One of the guys piped up quickly. Mondo just sighed heavily and look his friend / gang member in the eyes and repeated himself. “I’m an exhibitionist, man.”

“What the fuck is that??” Another gang member asked almost instantly.

“Jesus Christ- fuck all of you,” Mondo said getting pissed off at his friends. “I told you that sitting around like a bunch of little bitch ‘drinking and talking about our feelings‘ or whatever the fuck was fucking stupid.”

“No come on bro, none of us have literally ever even heard of that before”

“Fuck, it just means I like the idea of people seeing me get off, I guess?” Mondo said sharply looking at all his friends sitting around him. “like I get off on it I fucking guess.”

“So like, you want to jack off in public?” One of them asked.

“I’ll kick your fucking ass bro- that’s nasty dude. I’d never want anybody unsuspecting to fully see it dude, christ” Mondo stood up out of his chair and looked at them all. “You’re so fuckin dumb- all of ya! I don’t wanna be put on a damn sex offender list for touching myself in the goddamn park or something! I just… want to get off in front of people. It seems fucking hot,” he admitted while shrugging.

A few of the guys exchanged glances, and started to mumble to each other, just soft enough that Mondo couldn’t make out what was being said until they all looked back at him. “Wanna make a bet?” One of the guys asked as he stood up to be eye level with their gang’s leader.

“How much? And what kinda bet we talkin?” Mondo asked, admittedly intrigued.

“20,000¥. Meet us back here tomorrow at noon. Got it?”

Mondo just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, but I got some fuckin errands to run so you better make it quick, got it assholes?” He made eye contact with everyone else in the room, as they just snickered at him.

And that’s how he got here. In the bathroom of the garage the gang always meets at. Mondo sighs and looks in the duffel bag his friends tossed into his arms when he walked in, with no instructions further than “put it all on and get back out here.” ‘How did they even get all this stuff so last minute? Did they already have it?” Mondo thought to himself. So he did. He started by putting on, and locking, the chastity belt, which made him just a little too excited. Mondo hasn’t ever actually used a chastity before, he just knows they’re supposed to make him last way longer since he can’t touch himself, and he knows it’ll keep him nice and hard. Then he decided to use the duct tape, and gag himself with it, keeping his mouth shut. The next logical move for him was to put on the black face mask, so nobody could see the tape gag situation he had going on. All this for ¥20,000? ‘Fuck me’ was all he could think right now. Then the last step. Mondo held the little remote controlled vibrating butt plug in his hand and just stared at it for a few minutes before inserting it. He didn’t turn on it yet, and he was nervous as shit to do it too.

Mondo slowly and carefully walked out of the bathroom to the main room where everyone was waiting for him. He was already getting hard, and knew that whatever the fuck this was, was going to be a fucking nightmare. “Bro, everything… in place?” One of his gang members asked cautiously. The gagged Mondo just shook his head up and down quickly. “Perfect! So, you wanna get off in front of people without being put on a list?” His friend taunted. Mondo blushed, but luckily you couldn’t tell through the mask. “Well, I know you said you had some errands to run today, so why don’t we see if you can get through all those- but maybe without cumming,” he teazed. Mondo got wide eyed. So now, not only is he going to be horny as hell in public, but he’s not allowed to finish until the fucking errands are done? His face turned red and he tried to scream at his gang, forgetting about the gags, which just left him muffled and even more pissed off. Quickly Mondo got out a piece of paper and wrote:

“You’re fucking ON assholes.”

That’s exactly what they wanted to hear. “Perfect. Let’s get you on the back of a bike, because face it man, you can not drive with all that shit on ya,” the gang member chuckled. “I will be close behind watching though- so you better not cheat or try to lie, because trust me, I’ll fucking know. Oh and you’re giving me the key to that belt. It’s not coming off,”

With that, Mondo handed his gang member the key, then pulled himself onto the back of his bike, and the two of them rode off to the market place. As they pulled up to the big parking lot, the gang member cracked a small smirk, and got off the bike with Mondo. “All right, go do your shopping or whatever the fuck you gotta do man. I’ll keep my distance, but I’m watching you.” He said as he headed off into the crowd of people, leaving Mondo there alone. With a deep breathe in, and reaching into his coat pocket, he pressed the button to the remote control that little plug he had shoved up his ass. He set it to a low setting for now, and walked up to the first shop he had to go to. He took a deep breath and walked through the supermarket doors.

Mondo was walking through the fruits and vegetables section of the store, with his cock as hard as ever. Another man needed to grab something on the shelf right in front of Mondo, so he moved over to allow the man some space- and when he did his vibrator shifted just a little and he accidentally slipped. “Mmmh” he hummed lightly, quickly trying to turn it into a cough so the man next to him didn’t suspect anything. But Mondo loved the way he just felt. He reached his hand into his pocket and put the vibrator on a medium pulsating setting, that made him even hornier than before, if that’s even possible.

“Hnnnnnnngh” Mondo moaned lowly. He wanted to scream, his body felt amazing. He caught a woman shoot a side eye at him but she turned away and went about her business. Mondo tried his absolute best to compose himself, straightened up the best he could, and walked into the aisle he had come to the store for.

‘I just need 3- oh my fucking god” Mondo thought to himself. He quickly hunched over and grabbed onto the nearest shelf to catch his breath and control himself. He wanted to touch himself so badly, but with the belt that wasn’t even possible. “Hmm..” Mondo moaned out a few times. “hmmmf…” He already wants to turn the vibrator up to max speed, but he knows he’ll be a cryong mess if he does that. He only has one more thing to do once he’s done with the store, he can last till then, he thinks. He slowly makes his way through the aisle, grabs the three items he needed for his apartment, and tries to go pay. But god the line is long today. He has no choice but stand there and wait. Every time the line moved a little and he was forced to take a small step forward, his vibrator hit him in just the right spot to make him a god damn mess. ”nmmm… fuh..” he started to moan out in the still long line. He knew nobody could hear him, or cared but he was so embarrassed. The line moved once again, and this time his vibrator hit his prostrate in the exact right spot. A few tears formed at the corner of Mondo’s eye as he actively restrained himself from moaning out in pleasure.

Finally it’s his turn to check out and pay. He reaches into his jackets pocket to grab his wallet, but when he does, he bumps the button on the remote. “Haaaaahh…”Mondo hisses loudly as he arches his back a little. He took a few deep breaths, then pretended to finish a pretty unbelievable sneeze and proceeded to pay. The moment the cashier gave Mondo his change, he grabbed his stuff and ran to the nearest public restroom. He swiftly locked the door behind him and gripped onto the side of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He tried to palm himself through his pants, but the metal belt covering his fully erect dick gave him absolutely no direct contact with his throbbing cock. He starts whimpering loudly- but it’s not too loud thanks to his gag and mask. “Mmmmmh,” “hmmm hoh my god ffff-“ he barely muttered out. Mondo wanted to scream, or cry, or just touch himself once, so desperately. He felt like he was close to cumming from the vibrator alone. “Hnnnng” he cried out.

Mondo decides to try and stand up so he could leave the bathroom as quickly as he can, and find his way back to the bike. His gang member wasn’t too far behind him, so when they were both at the bike a few moments later, and Mondo hopped on without so much as saying a word, the gang member knew what was going on. He got in the front and took Mondo straight to the garage and tossed the key to him. “Ffnk you” Mondo muttered quickly as he ran to the bathroom he immediately ripped the mask and duct tape off of his mouth and moaned out loudly. “Holy fuccccckkkkk mmmmhhh…” He didn’t care that some of his friends were just a few rooms away and might be able to hear him. He just knew he felt so good and couldn’t help himself. Next was obviously the belt restricting him from touching himself. With a shaky hand, he unlocked it as fast as he was able too- which admittedly took about 3 minutes because of the constant pleasure he was feeling. Once the belt was off, Mondo immediately wrapped his hand around his now swollen, throbbing cock. “FUCK!” He shouted out in pure ecstasy and bliss. He was nothing but a mess of whimpers, cries, and moans in that moment. He knew he wasn’t going to last very long, so he quickly removed the vibrator, and fell to the floor. Mondo pumped his length a couple of times before he felt his orgasm quickly approaching. With one more stroke, he screamed out in pleasure “FUCK ME” and threw his head back as the white liquid oozed out of him, coating his hands, stomach, and thighs. He kept pumping himself slowly as more cum came out of him. “Mm…” he whimpered softly as the last of it came out. With shaky legs, Mondo pulled himself up off the floor, cleaned himself to the best of his ability, put all his clothes back on, and walked (even though it was more like a limp) back into the main area of the garage.

Without saying a word, or making eye contact with anybody, Mondo grabbed ¥20,000 and placed it in his buddy’s hand. He immediately walked out of the garage, barely got on his bike, and went home, thinking about not only just how fucked up his gang is, but how goddamn fun today was for him.

‘Maybe if I ever meet a chick we can do this shit together…’ Mondo thought to himself with a smirk.

[vslattae]

TRUST

Part one part two

↝ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢɢᴇsᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴘᴜs ғʟɪʀᴛ ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪᴍ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ, ʜᴇs ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴋɪɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ?

this is a little unedited so if you see any mistakes...you didn’t :)

campusflirt!jungkook x semipopular!reader

warnings: language, jin (is kind of a dick) mentions of alcohol, weed, there’s a smudge of angst. jk is kind of a dumbass, tae and yoongi being soft for yn,

———————————————————————

let’s get straight to the point, college is fun but despite all the movies it was all lies. Some people have it worse and thank god you didn’t have it so bad.

you sat in taehyung and yoongis apartment it was a quiet night. “let’s go to namjoons party tomorrow night” taehyung glanced at you smiling. “sure we can go” you smile back grabbing your stuff to make it back down the hall to your apartment.

Once you wave goodbye you slowly make your way out and into your apartment. sighing you placed your bag down and noticed something under your bed stuffed in a box.

cautiously sitting down and opening the box, the memories flood in. jeon jungkook what the hell happened to us? Jungkook or his nickname you gave him “kookie” was your best friend growing up, until freshman year of high school when he met those dicks that just happened to be friends with your yoongi and tae.

Once jungkook found out about them the hours you spent sitting in your makeshift fort dissipated from minutes to hours to day then weeks..all the up until a few years. the only good thing is that you two happen to be at the same college, but obviously you don’t even know if he remembers you.

going through the small notes and pictures one stands out, it was the night jungkook took you to your eighth grade dance where you both shared for your first kiss.

giggling at the memory you never noticed the small tear that tumbles off your right cheek. you slide the box back underneath your bed to be forgotten and continue getting ready for bed.

beep beep beep

your alarm clock flashes 5:35 exactly one hour before sunrise, changing into shorts and a hoodie and running shoes you burst out the door into the nice breeze chasing the path that led to a small clift where you spend your early mornings.

The path passes by a small dance studio with huge open windows, you never pay attention to it because the windows are always dark but once you stop you noticed a guy with way blonde hair with hand tattoos. he sways to the music but a female pops out to hug the boy and you continue to run.

bzzz bzzz

it’s yoongi.

“hello?” you pick up

“yn taehyung isn’t here” his voice sounds worrying.

“what do you mean?” you stop glancing out to the scenery.

“yn he never came back he told me he went out for a walk and hasn’t been back. i’ve tried calling and nothing straight to voice mail.” your heart sinks wondering if something really bad happened to tae.

“i’m coming okay? well go check out places maybe he just crashed at a friends place.” your insides churning as you run to yoongis place.

now walking with yoongi around to a different apartment lot about 10 minutes away from yours, it belongs to seokjin or just jin. the name sounds familiar but you keep it to yourself.

arriving at the gray apartment building, yoongi marching straight up to room 202 and knocking on the door.

a very tall slim guy opening the door, his hair peeled with light brown hair and purple ends...this must be jin.

“is tae here” yoongi glares at jin the taller male. “please come in and she can come in too taes on the couch” he invites you both in. you get the stench of weed and a very high taehyung on the couch.

“tae jesus christ” you hit him on his arm he winces a little and whines, there’s a weird noise coming from down the hall you ignore it of course and try to pull taehyung up with the help of yoongi but you both fail and he pulls you down and wraps his arms around you.

“tae” you whine “yoongi get him off” yoongi pulls you out of taehyungs arms. The noise from the hall stop as you hear a whine and a guy making his way into the living room where it’s crowded with voices.

it’s the guy from the dance studio. the very toned blonde haired boy with the tattoos on his hand. he made his way towards you and froze.

it was jungkook. in the flesh...

“jungkook yoongi and his friend came to get tae” jin look at jungkook and he still stood frozen. eyes widened at your figure along with the beads of sweat stuck on his forehead.

“oh jin shit...this is yn the girl that lives down the hall from us” yoongi pointed to you while you shy waved.

“yn..?” jungkook looked at you and he wanted to do was scoop you in his arms and apologize for ghosting you and ignoring you...it pained him to watch you both slowly drift apart away from each other.

“can we talk..?” he looked at you while your thoughts ran wild. you thought he was dead for crying out loud..and he thought you moved away and never wanted to see me again.

nodding you got up and walked outside of the apartment. you noticed the space in between you two. you had no idea what you were gonna say at all thank god he opened his mouth otherwise you would have darted back up to grab tae and leave.

“so..how’ve you been?” he scratched the back of neck while glancing at you.

“i’ve been okay...you’ve changed” you try your hardest to hold back the tears that swelled in your chest begging to not cry in front of him. god that’s pathetic.

he quickly caught on and held you. “i am so sorry yn..i forgot about you..and i fucked up oh my...we lost so much time and i don’t even know what to do..” he rambled on.

“i thought you were dead kook...you stopped hanging out with me to be with those pot smoking fuck boys..what happened.” that’s when the first tear fell and the bitterness bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

he watches you stunned...he doesn’t what happened to him. it was just one of those you meet things. they were more interesting than you at the time so time slipped away and so did the jungkook you knew.

“yn...i’m sorry...what else do you want me to say?” he looked you searching for face. “it’s okay kook...your girl is inside and i have to go.” you look at very high tae who pushes himself onto your shoulders as he giggles.

he watched the three of you walking away, as he returns back into his apartment to finish the girl he was with.

the night came for you and your little duo to head over to namjoons. watching the mirror with your ripped jeans tiny crop and yoongis windbreaker. you tip on your favorite shoes and walk out with yoongi and tae. The walk is easy, the light breeze along with the dim lights that spread along the road.

Once you reach the medium size house, it’s crowded with college guys and girls and it reeks of cheap alcohol and shady smelling weed. the minute you step into the house your swarmed by yoongi and taehyungs friends. yoongi manage to wrap his arm around you while he pushed his way to rm and jimin.

“hi guys” jimin looks at the three of you.

“you didn’t tell me this many people were here” you whined glancing around watching taehyung come back to give you a red cup filled with whatever he was drinking. “yeah me either but uh i think jins coming with his guys” he tipped himself back on the couch.

sipping your drink you immediately choke on it, in your line of sight lays jungkook. He’s paired in black ripped jeans, a designer hoodie and a pair of black combat boots. His hair is a little messy along with the row of piercings that lay on his ears. his left hand holds a red cup as he’s surrounded by a few girls until he notices you.

“jesus i think i’m going to be sick...can someone come outside with me?” you stand up immediately holding your hand out to whoever grabs it first..that is until your eyes land in your palm with jungkooks tattooed hand as he pushes his way outside.

“thanks” you mumble sitting on the warm concrete not sparing a glance to the boy in front of you. your head is pounding with the amount of alcohol in your system along with the super loud ass music that blasted the house.

“yn..” jungkook calls out. you look up only to find the boy hovering over you and for the first time since yesterday you got a glimpse of jk. “i know the reason i stopped hanging out with you” he softly spoke. tilting your head you waited for him to continue. “i wasn’t good for you yn and you know that. i couldn’t introduce to the guys i hung out with. they’d tear you apart.” he finally admitted.

“what- jungkook...you just left that’s the thing. you couldn’t have just told me that you’d go missing?” you scoffed already much annoyed and read to go you stood up to tell the boys you were going home.

walking back into the house to greet your friends goodbye but they were nowhere to be found out all.

making your way back to your apartment unlocking the door and stepping inside, you shower the party off and get dressed no bothering to put a bra on.

knock knock knock

slowly inching your way to the door and opening it, you were thinking it was a drunk tae or yoongi but you were definitely wrong. and definitely sober.

jungkook was out there..you looked up at him and then it just clicked. “come in..” you noticed his eyes drifting towards the small shorts you put on.

once you were both seated on the couch time began to move slower and all it took was the drift of jungkooks hand to your thigh and you were now under his spell.

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