#he looks so fucking cool though I wanna draw him with hair again

[littl3d0ll-art]

Jax with hair but it was impossible for me to settle on a color

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"i wanna Be Cool, but only if you want me to."

"want to impress you"

synopsis// everyone knows that basketball is the way to someone's heart.

pairing// satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count// 3.8k

contents// college au, basketball au, mutual unknown pining?, friends to lovers?, gojo is a loser, obligatory this is for you and misses

notes// lu wanted a basketball au so lu gets a basketball au. also obviously inspired by the basketball scene in jjk s2 anywho this is just kinda short n goofy :p also inspired by the song i wanna be cool by super whatevr. also i have no idea how basketball works and only ever played for fun so ermmm if anything is wrong bring that up with the universe !

Shoko unwillingly finds herself sitting on a random bench in the boys locker room, her arms crossed as she glares at the two boys in front of her.

“Why did you guys drag me in here?”

Geto speaks up first: “In my defense, this is all on Satoru, and I have no part in this.”

“You still dragged me in here, did you not?”

“…Yes.” 

“Then you took part in it.”

Gojo smiles as he smacks Geto on the back. “Exactly! You’re my accomplice.”

Shoko rolls her eyes. “Again, why did you guys drag me in here?”

“A presentation!”

“A presentation I have nothing to do with,” Geto chimes in as he takes a seat beside Shoko.

She briefly raises her eyebrow at Geto before directing it toward Gojo. “A presentation?” 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t see a projector or anything worth presenting here,” she says, looking around the room unamused.

“A presentation minus the actual presenting part...”

“So you dragged me in here just to talk to me?”

Geto leans in and whispers, “He actually wants to ask you something.”

Gojo stomps his foot like he’s about to throw a tantrum. “Geto shut up!”

“Can you just hurry up, Gojo?" She asks impatiently. “It reeks of axe body spray in here; I think it might actually kill me.”

He ignores her dramatics because, honestly, she’s not wrong. “You're coming to our game tonight, right?”

“I mean, yeah? Who isn't? It's the biggest game of the season.”

Geto adds, “That's what I said!”

“Do you know if Y/N is going?”

“Is that what you seriously dragged me in here for? Why didn't you just ask Y/N themself? You guys are friends, are you not?”

“Well yeah!” Gojo mumbles sheepishly, “But when I asked, they said maybe...”

“That means no,” Geto says quickly through a cough, as if trying to cover it up.

Gojo hears anyway and outstretches his arms toward Geto as if trying to draw attention toward him. “Exactly!” He then brings his hands in front of his face in a praying motion and begs, “Shoko, please!”

“Oh my fucking god, I don't know why you don't just ask them out already.”

“That's what I'm trying to do! But in order to do that, I kinda need them to go to tonight's game.”

Shoko glares at Gojo for what feels like forever, and Gojo glares back like they’ve suddenly entered a staring contest, and it’s Shoko who breaks eye contact first.

She sighs and pushes the hair out of her face as she mumbles, “God, you're lucky I'm tired of both of you pining after each other.”

“Thank you, Shoko!” he beams. “Also here.”

Shoko takes whatever Gojo is handing her and holds it up, her eyes slightly wide as she inspects it. “…Is this your jersey?”

He nods, fully confident within himself now that Shoko has agreed to drag you to the game, but tilts his head at her because he has no idea why she’s confused. “Yeah, I want them to wear it?” 

“You make me sick to my stomach, fine.”

“Shoko, do you wanna wear my jersey?” Geto suddenly asks.

She stares at him blankly, as if to ask if he really asked her that, knowing damn well she does not like him like that and she has a girlfriend, though after a few moments he finally gets the hint.

“Oh my god, not like that; I just want someone supporting me too.”

She sighs in relief, “Oh, thank god, don’t scare me like that, but yeah, fine, I’ll wear it.”

“Wait, what the hell?” Gojo exclaims, drawing Shoko’s and Geto’s attention back to him. “Shoko, would you have worn mine if I asked?”

“No.”

“What?! Why the hell not?”

“I like Geto more than I like you.”

He glares at her and quickly points out, “You're lying; if that was true, you wouldn't be helping me!”

Shoko simply shrugs and mumbles a small “bye” before getting up and leaving.

Geto stands up and takes his place next to Gojo, softly patting his back as he whispers, “Dare I say this ends our lifelong debate on who's superior?”

Gojo shrugs his hand off of him and speaks harshly through clenched teeth, “Shut. Your. Mouth.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

“Why would I want to go watch a bunch of sweaty men fight over balls?” You mumble offhandedly, focusing your attention on netflix playing on your phone rather than on her.

“Ok, Y/N, first of all, there's only one ball, and second of all, did you forget Gojo is on the basketball team?”

You quickly turn off your phone and sit up, clasping your hands together in your lap. “….Have I ever mentioned that basketball is actually my favorite sport?”

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters under her breath, pinching her nose bridge. “You're so obvious; why haven't you told him yet?”

“Are you insane? Gojo is hot, and on the basketball team, do you know how many people he already has crushing on him? I'm literally just another name on that list.”

“Sure,” she nods, “But the difference is that you're his friend too; you have more of a chance than anyone else.”

You sigh and frown at her. “Doubt.”

Shoko shakes her head, knowing that you two could spend all day here in your dorm debating whether you have a chance or not, but that’s not what she’s here for, so she’ll let you believe what you want, knowing that (hopefully) Gojo pulling whatever it is he wants to pull will prove you wrong.

“Whatever, put this on,” she says, throwing the jersey at you.

You catch it, your mouth slightly agape as you stare at it curiously. “…Isn't this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, is it?”

“Shoko.”

“Can you just trust me?”

“I'm literally just gonna look like another one of his groupies," you say, disdain and disappointment lacing your words as your eyes dart back and forth between her and the jersey.

She smiles, and it’s off-putting because it’s not her normal smile; no, you know, this is the smile she only wears when she’s about to drop a bomb on you. “Difference is that that's his actual jersey.”

You freeze.

“What?”

“I’ll save you a seat. Bye,” she says as she walks out of your dorm.

The slam of your door restarts your heart, and suddenly it and your mind are racing at 100 miles per hour, and the only thing you can do is word vomit despite the fact that Shoko is gone.

“What do you mean by that?! What do you mean this is his actual jersey?!” You run and fling open your door to yell out into the hallway, “Get back here!?” 

Shoko is a good bit away at this point, but she still hears you call out for her and acknowledges that with a wave, yet she still keeps walking away, and you're stuck in your doorway with your chest heaving. You look back down at the jersey in your hands.

Holy shit.

Not only is this a jersey with Gojo’s number on it, but it’s his jersey. How did Shoko even get this? Did she just take it without him knowing? Too many thoughts are in your head, but there’s only one that keeps overlapping the others, there’s only one that’s consistent, only one that electrifies every neuron in your body:

Holy shit, this is Gojo’s jersey.

Fuck the questions and fuck the answers you know you won’t get; the only thing that matters to you right now is that you have and are about to wear Gojo’s jersey. You have to be dreaming; really, that’s the only logical answer, but holy fuck, if you’re dreaming, you do not plan on waking up anytime soon—or ever.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The two teams quickly start filling up the court and taking up their respective spaces as they warm up, but Gojo, being Gojo, isn't doing that. Instead, he’s standing on the sidelines, looking in at the crowd of people starting to take their seats for the game, and his heart is racing as he searches the crowd for you, and it drops when he inevitably doesn’t find you, but he’s not discouraged, not yet at least, because the game hasn’t officially even started yet, so there’s still time for you to show up.

There’s still time.

He has to keep reminding himself that the whole time he’s warming up—now that he’s actually being forced to, though it’s a half-assed warm-up—he and his coach don’t even know whether what he’s doing could be considered a warm-up in the first place. The game is about to start any second now when Geto approaches Gojo.

“Nothing?” 

Gojo’s head drops as he reluctantly shakes it.

Geto hums and searches the stands for you, but when he doesn't find you either, he tries to find the next best person, Shoko, and it's quite easy to find her considering she’s wearing Geto's jersey.

“Shoko!”

She looks down from the bleachers and sees Geto staring at her as he gestures toward Gojo, and she knows he's trying to ask where you are, but in all honesty, she has no idea either. She shrugs, and even from as high up as she is, she can hear Geto groan before grabbing Gojo by the shoulders and forcing him to look at him.

“I'm sure they’ll come, dude.”

Gojo blankly stares at Geto, an eyebrow raised skeptically, as if to say, really? but before he can verbally reply, their coach comes over and removes Geto’s hand from Gojo’s shoulder to place his own hand there.

“I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, fix it.”

Geto and Gojo tense up at his tone, full of nothing but pure determination. This isn't him asking; this is him demanding that Gojo get his shit together.

“This is the biggest game yet, and I'm not gonna let you and some petty college drama get in the way of that. You're our best player. Act like it.”

Gojo can only nod. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and it's like his throat is closing, but he tries to will the feeling away. Though his reaction is enough for his coach, who starts walking off.

Geto stares up at Gojo with his eyebrows knit, concern lacing his voice, “Gojo...”

Gojo shakes his head and takes a deep breath before flashing Geto his signature smile. “I'm fine, Geto; cmon, we got a basketball game to win.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To be totally honest, the reason you were running so late to the game was because you were mentally shitting your pants the entire time you were getting ready. For a good chunk of time, you just sat on your bed with the jersey laid out in front of you, staring at it. Just staring at it, that's all. Because yes, even though you said fuck the questions and fuck the answers, you very much could not do that, not when too many questions and unknown answers were flooding your brain like a dam had cracked. You think you probably would've stayed like that all day and night, missing the game entirely, if not for Shoko spam calling your phone.

“What?”

“Don't 'what' me, where the fuck are you?” She snaps through the phone.

“Uh, getting ready?”

“Y/N, the game started twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh shit,” you say, hopping off your bed and quickly grabbing the jersey.

“Yeah, oh shit! Get your ass down here!”

You don't bother saying goodbye; instead, you quickly hang up, throw the jersey on as fast as you can, and bolt out the door. The halls are empty as you race through them, and you're not surprised; everyone is already at the game—everyone but you—and you speed up your pace just a smidge more. God, you're an idiot, missing the best game of the season—okay, you don't actually care about that. God, you're an idiot, missing seeing Gojo and maybe getting answers on how Shoko obtained his jersey—that's better.

You get to the gym in record time, slightly surprised at how quickly you got there, but you ignore that as you try to catch your breath before walking in and try to prepare yourself for the amount of noise that will assault your ears when you do. You can already hear how loud it is; the walls not doing very much at all to muffle the yells of people. You walk in and wince slightly at the noise as you look around for Shoko. She immediately finds you and waves her hand in the air for you to find, as does Utahime, who's sitting next to her. You smile and quickly make your way toward them, apologizing to the people you pushed through to get to them in the first place. You take your seat next to Shoko with a sigh.

“What did I miss?” you ask, leaning forward slightly just so you can look at both Utahime and Shoko.

Utahime has a small grimace on her face, and Shoko merely motions toward the scoreboard, and the minute you look, your jaw drops. Gojo’s team was losing. No. Losing isn't even the right word here; they were getting absolutely destroyed. They had zero points—none at all. You look back toward the two girls in disbelief.

“What the fuck?”

“Gojo is literally sucking so much ass that it's throwing everyone else off,” Utahime says with a shrug before glancing down at your clothes. “Are you wearing his jersey?”

You clear your throat awkwardly and look away, ignoring the smirk on Shoko's face.

“So, uh, do we know why Gojo’s sucking ass?” You ask after a brief moment of silence.

“Nope,” Utahime responds with a shake of her head.

“I do,” Shoko says nonchalantly.

Your head snaps back toward her. “What? Why?”

“Yeah, you didn't tell me either!”

Shoko rolls her eyes and ignores both of you as she loudly calls out to Gojo, who, by some grace of god, hears her over the hundreds of other people yelling for him. Gojo’s eyes immediately find hers, and he watches how she subtly jerks her head to the side, and like some angel descended from the heavens, like a god showing itself in a moment of dire, he looks and finds you sitting there in his jersey, and he can't help the smile on his face, can't help how just your presence lit a fire underneath him, can't help how just seeing you gave him his pep back in his step.

Gojo finds Geto’s eyes on the court and nods determinedly. They are winning this game, whether it's the last thing Gojo does. He's not going to look like a fool in front of you. So that's exactly what Gojo does. Once the second period starts, Gojo steals back the ball with a new sudden ease, and by halftime, he’s gotten the team caught up to the other one, starting the third period with a tie.

“How the hell did he do that? I thought you guys said he sucked!”

“Aw man, I was rooting for the other team,” Utahime says, frowning, and you have to resist the urge to chew her out in defense of Gojo.

Shoko shrugs. “He was till you know…”

You stare at her blankly. “No, I don't know, actually. Care to enlighten me?”

“No, I do not,” she says before turning to Utahime. “And don't worry, they're only tied; there's still a chance the other team will win.”

Utahime cheerfully hums as she rests her head on Shoko’s shoulder. “You’re right!”

“Don't encourage her to root for the other team?!” 

Utahime sticks her tongue out at you, and before any of you can say anything else, a loud buzzer rings across the gym, indicating a point was made, and to your delight, it was for Gojo’s team. For the rest of the third period, it was just buzzer after buzzer as Gojo’s team took back their rightful place on the scoreboard, completely smashing the other team into the ground, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. Watching Gojo in his element was doing detrimental things to your crush on him, only making it worse, but you can't even seem to care. Shoko looks over to you and laughs.

“I can practically see the hearts in your eyes.”

You scoff. “Shut up!”

Down on the court, they had just started their last two-minute break between third and fourth period, with the coaches gathering their respective teams into a huddle.

“Alright guys,” Gojo’s coach began, “Keep your heads in the game; we’re taking this victory home, got it?”

All the boys nod hurriedly, and the coach leaves them to do what they need to before the last period starts, but Gojo doesn’t let them get far.

“Whatever fucking happens, I'm getting that last score, got it?”

Everyone on the team exchanges uneasy glances, and Geto rolls his eyes and sighs before apologizing for Gojo.

“He just has a plan and wants to do something, guys.”

The boys nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

“If you guys mess this up for me, I swear to god, I will make you wish you were never born,” Gojo says with his usual smile, but in this case, all his smile does is make him seem feral.

Geto slaps Gojo across the back of his head and huffs, “He doesn’t mean that, don't worry.”

“Oh, I fucking mean it.”

“Gojo, shut the fuck up.”

Before anyone else can say anything, the timer goes off, and into the last minutes of the game they go. As the game goes on, everyone is on the edge of their seat, even if deep down they know who will win. You and Utahime are no exception to this, but apparently Shoko is.

“Why the fuck are you guys on the edge of your seats? It's obvious we’re gonna win.”

You go to glare at her but can’t even hold your stare long enough because you're so enthralled by the game. “Still, it's so nervewracking!”

Utahime laughs. “I'm only on the edge of my seat because I want the other team to win.”

“Why are you such a hater, dude?” you ask defensively.

Utahime doesn’t mind; she knows all too well about your little crush on Gojo, so she doesn’t take offense to your tone. “When it comes to Gojo, I'm always a hater.”

You finally find it in you to glare at her. “I hope Shoko breaks up with you.”

She rolls her eyes and glares back. “Oh, haha, you're so mature.”

You say nothing but stick your tongue out at her childishly, and she does the same, to which Shoko groans and rolls her eyes before grabbing both of your heads and turning them to face the game.

“You can fight after the game; there's only a few seconds left.”

Gojo glances at the time and realizes it’s now or never. He finds that Geto has the ball and calls out for him. Geto, on the other hand, hesitates to pass him the ball, with a look on his face asking if he really wants to do this, and Gojo can only nod. How could he not want to do this? This is the only thing he can do; it's not like he knows how to ask someone out the normal way, so this will do; it has to. Gojo tries to control his breathing as he makes his way to the hoop, the ball dribbling in tune with his heartbeat, and nothing matters to him in that moment except you and scoring—his surroundings completely drowning out. Everyone holds their breath waiting for him to shoot, and right before he does, his eyes lock onto yours.

“This is for you, Y/N!” He yells out as he shoots, and…

And he misses.

Horribly.

And there's no chance for him to redeem himself because the minute the ball hits the ground, the buzzer goes off, indicating the end of the game, and everyone seemingly ignores whatever the fuck he just did and erupts into an uproar at the fact that they won regardless of Gojo’s miss.

“What-“

Shoko slaps a hand over her mouth, attempting and failing to hold in her laughter. “Did he just fucking miss?”

Utahime is hunched over, her head between her knees, laughing. “Oh my fucking god, he's an idiot!”

You blink, not moving, not saying anything, but with how hard Shoko is laughing and Utahime leaning against her as she laughs as well, Shoko ends up bumping into you, and she instantly grows quiet, her head snapping toward you.

“Oh, why are you still here?”

“Huh?” 

"Why aren’t you down there?” she asks, pointing down to the court.

“Am… Am I supposed to be?”

“Uh duh!” Utahime speaks up, peeking out from behind Shoko. “He made that shot for you! Well, he missed that shot for you.”

“Oh,” you say blankly. “Oh. Oh shit.”

You stood up abruptly, and with how fast you went down the bleachers, you almost tripped once you made it onto the ground. You quickly catch yourself, and the moment you look up to find Gojo, he’s already standing right in front of you.

“You're-you're wearing my jersey,” he says breathlessly, but not in a I-can’t-breathe way, more in a holy-shit-my-crush-is-actually-wearing-my-jersey way.

You swallow thickly and nod. Your gaze flickers down to the jersey before going back to his face. “I am.” 

“You are.” 

“What was that Gojo?”

He seems to grimace at your question. “Ah, well, you see, I was actually gonna say if I make this, you owe me a date, but that’s a really long sentence to shout, and what if I didn’t make it? That would’ve been so embarrassing.”

You laugh under your breath. “Gojo, you didn’t make it regardless.”

He frowns. “Don’t remind me.”

You smile and push a strand of hair stuck to his forehead out of the way, watching how he blushes furiously at your touch, and it makes your heart swoon. Who knew the confident number-one basketball player could crumble so readily under your touch?

“You know, I’m still more than happy to owe you a date.”

He smirks as he pulls you closer toward him by your waist and coos, “Yeah?"

“Yeah… But get the hell off of me, Gojo; you’re sweaty and you stink,” you grumble as you push against his chest, trying to free yourself.

Gojo ignores you and pulls you in closer (if even possible), his body engulfing yours as he rubs his face against yours, making sure his sweat rubs off on you too.

You struggle against his hold. “Gojo gross!” 

“Sorry, I can't hear you over the people. What are you saying? Hug you closer?”

“Gojo, don’t you dare.”

You hear him chuckle before rubbing up against you again, and you groan but stop resisting, which he hums happily at before starting to pull away. You watch how his face abruptly twists into feigned disgust.

"Ew, Y/N, get the hell off of me; you’re sweaty and you stink,” he mocks as he pushes you out of his hold.

“I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you wouldn’t be going on a date with me,” he singsongily says.

“Yeah, not anymore,” you mumble with a wry smile as you start walking away.

“Hey, wait, Y/N, come back!”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[poppy-metal]

hnngnngnggggnnn Patrick being a spoiled little rich boy <3

need to be his sugar baby :( getting to lounge around his mansion and use his black card at any shops you want as long as your mouth or pussy or ass are available to him whenever he wants :((

his little free use girlfriend who he parades around at important events in skimpy dresses that make people stare at you in shock, all so he has easier access to lift up your skirt or tug down the top and reveal your tits if the whim arises :((((

#needthat

need to be rich!patrick zweigs bratty sugar baby. need to be his little mistress because he never separated from his family and grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and became pro at tennis and became like all the other boring fucking older men at his fathers country club he swore he'd never be. need him to hate his life and how easy everything was to obtain and how his marriage is loveless and she doesn't even put out and his kids are rich little brats he can't connect with because they're little ipad kids, absolute demons, they wont go outside with him they dont wanna learn to play tennis or any sport or run around and make stick and dirt soup like he did when he was a kid and life is so fucking boring everything is in grays - until he meets you.

at a bar one night. its not the first time hes cheated on his wife - but it might be the first time he's fallen in love. he sees you and wants to fuck you immediately. already decides he'll have your panties around one ankle while he shoves a tongue up your cunt in the bathroom stall - he buys you a drink and you let him. you're sweet and flirty and you draw him in like a bee to a pretty flower - he's subconsciously leaning in, eyes can't stop dropping to your lips.

things take a turn though when you get up to leave and he blinks because he didn't mean to get swept up in the conversation - chases after you to try again - to take you back to a hotel or even in the back of his car - but you tell him no.

he just looks at you. confused. hard. "no." he repeats. rolls it around in his head. foreign. hasn't heard it much before. it sounds sweet coming from your lips.

"you're not fucking me." you tell him simply.

that shouldn't turn him on but it does. he's not stupid. you were attracted to him. he'd seen the way you looked at him - bitten your lip. he knows he's not projecting, because even now you're smiling as you say it.

he rubs a thumb over his bottom lip as he checks you over. strappy heels, but cheap. tight little bodysuit, but not designer. flashy purse but he knows the diamonds on it are fake.

ah.

"you in college?"

you smooth a hand down your hair. "sophomore year."

he nods, leans against the brick building of the bar. fishes in his coat pocket for his packet of cigarettes. "what're you studying?" he flips the box open, slides a cig out - brings it to his lips.

you eye him curiously as he roots for his lighter next - trying and failing to ignore the heat in your belly at how good this man looks leaning against something with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"we already did the small talk, dude. you're not getting any."

he ignores that. lights his cigarette and inhales. he likes that you're obviously irritated but you dont move away. he blows smoke through his nose. says again, "what're you studying."

you huff. roll your eyes. he watches you calmly, taking drags his cig. in the cool night air you can't tell the exact shade of his eyes, but you think they're green. everything about him screams money and dominance.

you cross your arms. "law." short but simple.

he nods like that makes sense, flicks ash.

"that's good." he says it in a way that sounds like he means it but also could be condescending and you dont know why that makes you swallow deeply. "expensive, though."

you narrow your eyes.

"you think im poor?"

usually someone would fumble after being called out like that but patrick just smiles in a way that says he knows you are -

"i know you're not rich."

you bristle. that hurts. you don't know why. who wants to look rich, anyway. fucking snobs. but still, its embarrassing to be told the distinction in class is obvious to someone else who's far far above you. you can already tell the watch hes wearing costs more than the apartment you can barely afford.

"thanks for the unasked for observation, dickhead." you yank your purse strap higher on your shoulder, make to turn away. "I'd say its been pleasant but well, it hasn't. so."

you make it a couple steps before he calls out -

"I'll pay it."

you're alot of things. you're haughty and stubborn and yeah, not rich. you're also down on your luck and struggling and drowning in so many things in the moment - barely being able to afford your own fucking beer at this point when what you wanted to accomplish in life would take thousands, thousands of dollars. so hearing the word 'pay'. well, yeah. it makes you turn around to face the guy.

"you'll what?"

he knows you heard. it was cute how you perked right up.

"I'll pay it." he gestures towards you. "all of it - your semester. your tuition. textbooks. whatever else you need."

you gawk at him.

the thing is. he's attractive. alarmingly so. disarmingly really. he's tall and broad and he dresses well. he has that perfectly styled hair and deep rich man scent that makes your mouth water. a beautiful face with a rouge kind of touch. you'd have fucked a man like him under any normal circumstance, but given the way your life is going at the moment - you haven't the time to waste on pretty men with big dicks.

probably. he probably has a big dick.

"you're fucking kidding me."

"nah." he licks his bottom lip. takes another drag. flicks more ash to the pavement. he looks at you like he's already imagining you naked in front of him. "I'm good for it."

"well duh." you look him up and down. "you look like you just stepped out of a magazine for mens wealth or whatever. why the fuck are you offering? you expect me to suck your dick for it or something?"

you say the last part sarcastically, rolling your eyes - but patrick just looks at you seriously. sucks the humor right from your bones when he says - "yeah, i do."

two things happen in your body.

firstly, you stiffen. the urge to slap him for being so derogatory making your fingers twitch at your sides. your face burns.

secondly and most apparently, your cunt throbs. your nipples tighten. you inhale sharply in a way patrick notices. smirks at.

you blink at him several times.

"i can't believe you just seriously said that to me." you say it kind of breathlessly. you really can't believe it though.

"should i be more clear?" he takes one step towards you. "i want to fuck you - you want to fuck me, but you won't do it for free. I'm offering to pay you for it."

"i - im not a whore."

the grin patrick gives you makes a tremble shoot through your whole body. you feel it in your toes.

"you sure about that?"

you really should slap him.

you dont.

you fumble, "you're married." you'd spotted the ring at the bar earlier. it hadn't been the reason you turned him down initially, but still.

"you dont care about that."

fuck.

"you cant just...... buy whatever you want. im a person."

he nods. he's done with his cigarette so be crushes it beneath his boot. "give me your hand." he just takes it anyway. you watch dumbly as he gets a pen from his pocket - how many things did he have in his fucking pocket? - bites the cap off, and brings the tip to your palm. "this is the number for my personal phone."

of course he had multiple phones. he doesn't let go of your hand when he's done writing. rubs his thumb into the pulse point at your wrist.

"when you change your mind -" when not if. "- i want you to call me."

you go to pull your hand away, but patrick squeezes it.

"one more thing."

he's close enough the spicy mint scent of him fills your nose. he dips his head so he's closer to your ear, you feel the stubble on his chin graze your cheek -

"when you let me fuck you - you will be a cheap whore. you'll let me do what I want to you. and i know its not because of the money. but i understand what its like to need something to let yourself have something else." he turns his head. kisses your cheek. "don't take too long to call, though. I'm not a patient man."

[grimesgirll]

the first time you saw rick in his constable uniform, you thought you were going to have to go to your room to cool down.

clean shaven, hair trimmed, iron pressed uniform clad rick grimes was a sight to behold. having known him just as he was a mere week or two ago, you wouldn't have expected him to be an officer of the law.

truth be told, you found that version of rick wildly hot. he was passionate. he was protective of not just you but judith, carl, the group. purpose looked great on him however it manifested.

but you also loved this domestic version of rick. watching him feed judith at a marble countertop was surreal. you hadn't known him when he was a clean-cut suburban dad, just as a survivor. rick really brought out your thing for men in uniforms though. you'd thought it was a one off thing when you'd hit on a state game warden after he came to dispatch the deer you hit with your car in the past but constable rick had him beat.

you never thought you'd see rick in a tie. you think about how he would've looked at your sorority formal as he brushes past you in the kitchen, immediately knowing what's up when your eyes don't leave him as you start to plate the brownies you just pulled out of the oven.

"like what you see?"

you smile. "yeah." you hold up a freshly cut brownie. "rick, can you try a bite? let me know if they're still hot? i don't wanna burn my tongue."

rick takes a step closer to lean in and take a mouthful of your brownie. "mmm," he hums. "delicious. not too hot. not for you." you gleam at the praise. "thank you, darlin'," he whispers huskily to you.

"you're welcome, officer."

you watch something shift in his eyes as he pops the rest of the brownie into his mouth. "i thought you didn't like cops."

"i never said that," you attest. "i've never said a bad word about a constable in my life," you swear, putting the plate of brownies down to step closer to rick, who begins to play with the buttons on your cardigan.

"really?"

"mhmm." you run your hands along his tie. "i enjoy the uniform."

"do you?"

you nod, hands working up to his chestnut curls. "did they give you handcuffs?"

rick chuckles at you. "those are for official constable business, not playin' around."

"i'm not playing around," you whisper in his ear. "what's it take to get a girl arrested around here?"

not much apparently because all you had to do was start pulling on his tie to get dragged to the upstairs bedroom and thrown on the bed. with a hand cuffed to the bedpost, all you could do was squirm as alexandria's newest constable stripped you from the waist down.

"how many do you want?" rick asks once he's gotten your pants down and he's running his hand on your ass.

you shrug. "you choose, officer."

"bad choice," he remarks and pulls you over his lap to get a better angle. "actually, i think you'll like this."

smack!

you wince. you can't remember the last time you were spanked but you know you're gonna remember this for sure, if not purely by the memory, then by the handprints that were already forming on your plush ass as rick gives you another round.

as you twist and writhe in his grasp, rick starts to get impatient, wishing you were squirming on a specific part of him. he lowers his lips to your ear. "are you ready to be a good girl?" he asks.

you nod your head up and down. "i've always been your good girl," you breathe, slightly tensing when you feel his hand on your bottom again.

"good."

with that, he flips you back face down onto the bed and you hear the metallic clank of his belt buckle. it's not ten seconds later that you feel him against your wet hole. as you feel the cold air on, you realize how wet you are; rick's behind you drawing circles in your slick with his dick while you whine into the duvet.

"rick," you start, voice low and needy.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"i want you, rick." you answer with an exhale. "i'm so wet for you."

"i can see, honey."

"then fuck me!"

"maybe ask the constable nicely."

you can hear the smugness in his voice and it goes straight to your cunt.

"constable grimes," you croon. "can you please fuck me?"

you don't have time to hear his answer because the wind is knocked out of you - there it is. you're knocked halfway up the bed as the constable fucks into you roughly.

"how do you like that, sweetheart?" he inquires, breath warm against your neck as he keeps pushing all the right buttons inside of you.

"mhmmm," you murmur. "feel so full."

"good."

you were so developing a thing for men in uniform.

[spicyyy-muffin]

Hide n Seek

Scare kink, size kink, this is literally pure smut please be warned. 18+

“catch me if you can”

i pressed my walkie on its specific channel to ghost.

“you’re an idiot y/l/n” he spoke through the Bluetooth device in my ear

“get outta my ear McTavish”

I climbed over old couches and rusted warehouse equipment. I needed to find a good place to hide that wasn't blown to pieces or see through.

turning off my walkie and even going as far as lowering the volume in the bluetooth device in my ear.

 I would never live it down if he found me.

“he's got tha name ghost fora reason, you daft dimbo.”

“don’t you think i’m aware?”

I crouched and squeezed in between a small space under an abandoned desk.

trying to make myself as small as possible, i curled up bringing any residue around me as a cover.

“He's gonna get you little one.”

The quiet groan of the door forced me to shut the device off completely.

his footsteps i couldn’t hear, aside for the slightest crunch in gravel beneath his combat boots growing increasingly closer to me.

looking through the cracks in the metal, no guns were drawn except for a knife in his right hand.

my heart sank, i trusted him with my life. but spooking a member of 141 was a death wish. and catching them at the wrong time would be a one way ticket to wherever my six feet deep hole waited for me. 

he slithered through the door, continuing to the next room while I waited for complete silence.

I opted for the door he came through, thinking he would be in an entirely different side of the building than me.

I kept my hands free of any weapon, preparing for the slightest sign I might have to run or crawl my way out.

I stood at the top of a flight of stairs. no sound, no lights, no gravel, I could have been alone.

a breath shot down my neck.

in seconds I was against a wall with a burly man pushing against me. his cool blade against the soft of my neck.

his eyes glowed into mine, heavy breaths breaking the silence.

"I thought you were the shit?"

I shuffled my arms underneath him trying to find a leeway. His eyes brightened in amusement.

The fabric on his face lifted revealing his mouth seconds before he dropped it to my neck.

The knife was digging into the left side of my neck, drawing blood in his wake. Hurting more the harder his kisses became.

“Ghost, Mctavish is- he’s right-” 

He brought his head up to look into my eyes, “at the bar two blocks from here. You underestimated my intentions for hide and seek sweetheart.” 

Pocketing the knife, his hands rustled with my clothing until they landed on the button of my jeans. 

On his knees he looked up to me. Even though he was supposed to be feeling vulnerable we both knew that I was the only submissive one here. 

“I wanna taste.” 

My fingers traced his plump lips first, short stumble scratching me.

I smiled looking down at him, trying to memoriize the outline of his beautiful face. 

“I want a kiss.”

In seconds his large hands covering my cheeks, lips ravishing mine as if we were running out of time. Time seemed to slow down when his tongue traced my bottom lip, pulling away to take a breath and pushing into me deeper. His hands were everywhere, m,y hair, taking a minute to wrap around my throat, he reached both of them down under my butt and lifted me on his waist. 

A few inches above him again he pulled away to look up to me. 

“Don know how long I can do this sweetheart.” 

He panted onto my mouth. 

“I wanna taste you so bad but another part of me is saying I should jus fill you to the brim.” 

A hot bolt of arousal shot down my stomach into my clit. 

I laughed against his lips kissing them one more time. “Maybe you should just hurt me.” 

He groaned pressing his forehead onto mine. 

“There you go saying some dumb shit again.” 

My back pressed against the cold concrete floor, combat pants somewhere across the room his head was in between my legs and he wasted no time. 

Switching between tongue fucking me and wrapping his lips around my clit and sucking so hard I knew I wasn’t going to last long. 

I threaded my fingers through his hair trying to mask my sounds. 

He pulled away his hand gripping my throat, “Unless the bar Soap’s in can hear you, you’re not loud enough. N what does tha mean angel?” 

My breath was shaky, “I don- I don’t get to cum.” 

“Mmmm good girl.” 

His mouth resumed and this time I let my noises be whatever they wanted. My orgasm consumed me. My lower back lifted from the ground as I pleaded with him to stop before he flipped me around and did exactly what he said he was gonna. 

He filled me to the brim. Hot pants on the back of my neck I tried to grip onto anything I could to distract me from the pleasure I was feeling from his cock hitting my cervix. 

“Sososo- so good, please don’t.” 

“Fuck baby, I’m not gonna.” Seconds, minutes im not sure how long until I could hear the slight sound of a phone buzzing. 

His phone. 

He flipped me around again, putting my legs around his neck he found new spots that drew me crazier to the edge. 

One palm covered my mouth as he leaned down to my ear, “Be a good girl and stay quiet for me.” 

My brows scrunched up before he reached his other hand down to grab his cellphone and he answered the call. I could hear our captains voice over his balls slapping against me. 

“Ghost, you copy?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“Clear?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“I have one more important thing to discuss with you, when-” The Captain continued as Ghost screwed his eyes shut in pure irritation. 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Good.” 

The call ended and he abandoned his phone near my head and removed his other from my mouth. 

“Fuckin prick.”

He smirked down at me.

“It turned you on, could feel you squeezing me harder.” 

“AsshoLE-” He pounded into me harder. 

“We can try that another time.” My vision turned murky as stars exploded behind my eyes. 

“Fuckin hell, I don't think I’ll ever get tired of that.” 

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 5: bonding exercise

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -Fluff- chapter 1

your POV:

through out my time here in hell I have grown accustomed to the musty hot atmosphere of the underworld and the loud mornings of screaming, gun shots, and road rage, its hell after all and there technically isn't any rules. me and angel hang out a lot more, behind his sex jokes and playful demeaner hes a great friend. husk and I are cool I suppose, according to him I'm more tolerable. Nifftys a bit crazy and energetic but I enjoy helping her clean sometimes, but one person that's been on my mind a lot is Alastor. hes always watching me, I catch him staring at me with that weird smile, I wonder if his face hurts from smiling all the time...none of my business what he does I just wish he wasn't so eerie. I was in the lobby this morning when Charlie called us over for a "bonding exercise", seeing everybody gathered in there seats I sit on the couch next to angel, "good morning everybody thank you for comingggg, I would like to have you all here for a little bonding time yayy!!!..." the silence was defiantly loud... "uhm- well I though we could all do something fun like drawing!" standing behind her vaggie comes out with paper, markers, and crayons "oooo colors" niffty giggles "what's does this look like kinder garden?" "angel please try and at least participate" letting out an annoyed grumble he agrees "fineee..." "great! were all going in partners and you will draw each other, that sound fun right!!?" oh no... "charlies with me, husks with angel, and Alastors with y/n, nifftys can uhm..." "oh oh can I be the judge!!!" "sure..." "you gotta be fucken kidding me..." "aww cmon whiskers I'm not that baddd~" walking to there partners I turn to see Alastor sitting on the arm chair looking at me with a wide grin on his face, "fuck me..." I grumble walking over to sit on the floor beside him "well my dear looks like its just me and you" "yeah... me and you" grabbing two pieces of papers and some crayons "I cant even draw..." "oh don't worry I'm sure you will do just fine!" "why am I doing this again..." "cheer up dear this is supposed to be fun after all, I cant be that hard to draw" "yeah your right just need two colors" scribbling on the paper I start at the base of his face, doodling his creepy smile and red hair, looking up I see him studying me curiously "what's the matter, am I hard to draw?" I say smugly "not at all dear your quite easy to draw" ouch, thanks...

Alastors POV:

I never really focused any time on things such as art, yes I can cook and maybe play the piano but drawings not one of my few good skills although ill give it a shot. I would have never guessed I would be sitting here doing one of charlies silly little projects, attempting to draw y/n I look at here for a while, this is the closest I have ever really been next to her, my she really is small it makes me want to squeez her tiny little body, her head could fit in my hand easily. I have noticed a few things while observing her, her ears twitch when she's focused on things like now, her pink bunny nose twitches when she's scared, and her fluffy tail wags when she's exited or annoyed what a strange individual...

your POV:

"ok guys once your done with your drawings you will show them off to your partners!!", as a few minutes pass by I have finished my drawing and well I'm quite disappointed in myself, man I should have taken art class in high school "I finished if your ready to show them" hell no... "I- I'm done but I don't think I wanna... "oh I'm sure its not that bad" giving the drawing one last glance I turn the page I show him the drawing facing away to hide what little dignity I had left. hearing a quiet static buzz noise I look back up seeing him looking at the drawing with a questionable face "I know its badd!!!" "w-well I wouldn't say that dear its just..." "just say its bad!" "its interesting" "well what does yours look like?" turning his page my jaw drops to the floor, what is this creepy deer man not good at "its not my best work but-" "are you kidding me Al this is good!" standing up I grab the drawing, it was in crayon but it looked just like me. pausing I try to tone down my excitement seeing alastor wide eyed from my reaction "I'm glad you like it dear" "what cant you do" "well I did say I was a man of many talents but drawing isn't one of them" "do you uhh mind if I keep this..." "not at all dear~" "you don't have to keep mine you can just throw it-" "nonsense its mine isn't it?" "yes.." "then I will keep it". for once he seemed to have a genuine smile on his face, not some creepy ass smile, its kind of nice...

Alastors POV:

I don't know why but I wanted to keep her silly little drawing, its...cute?. it looks nothing like me but its quite amusing seeing her all embarrassed. I was surprised to see she liked my drawing, her eyes lit up with a small smile on her face, it feels good to know my work is appreciated even in the... strangest things it gives me a sense of pride, I might hang it in my radio tower...

your POV:

looking at everybody else I saw Charlie bouncing on her heels looking at a little doodle vaggie made how cute~, husk made a sloppy doodle of angel and angel just drew himself. niffty was running around looking at others drawings, eventually she got around to ours, climbing on my shoulder she looks at Alastors drawing "ooooOooo you look so cute in the picture!!" I smile a bit "thanks niff" grabbing her off my shoulder I set her down "well that's the end of the exercise, how was it!" "ehh it wasn't to bad" "it was alright" "whatever...im going back to the bar" Charlie puts on a little smile "well do one again next week, maybe we could make cookies together or do all about ME's oh oh!! what about-" "ok hon slow down" "sorry". this was nice, hell isn't that bad, at least not here. better than home...

hey guys!!! I was supposed to release this earlier but I'm a little sick right now from the cold weather but I refuse to let you guys down! I made this chapter a little longer than usual so I hope you guys loved this cute chapter as much as I did, love you guys have a good day/night

-squerlly

for more content or chapter please click this masterlist

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies, starting with the ones related to the dragon!Malleus drawing from yesterday.

Anonymous asked:

*claps hands and rubs them together*

Hehehehehe dragonussy ✨ (recent Malleus drawing)

Yes! Finally!! 🤤😏 After all this time…!

Anonymous asked:

Mal only tops in dragon form

Look at him, Anon.

Look at him closely.

He is a bottom bitch with a dragon pussy so big that no dick could possibly satisfy it, so he is to stay forever hungry, underfucked and cranky until the chosen one (or a donkey idk) shows himself and fucks him to the ground.

 (In all seriousness, please don’t try this with us. We don’t like switching and we mention it every single day.)

Anonymous asked:

J-Jamil, do you know what it’s like being someone looking at a man that looks the way you do? 🥵

I think he knows, Anon… he knows it well enough to abuse this power that he holds 😔 So cruel and so beautiful!

Anonymous asked:

Have you seen Jamil’s B-Day groovy? He braids his hair and puts all the pretty hair accessories in with magic! Also, his sprites have him with these headbands that he just SLAYS in. It’s not fair for him to be so pretty ♥️♥️

Yes! I really wanted to compliment Jamil for having dedication to do his braids every single day, but then the groovy dropped lol The cat is out of the bag. I guess that makes perfect sense, who would want to spend so much time on that if you can do it with magic… good for him.

The headband looks cute on him as well; this guy is way too pretty for his own good.

Anonymous asked:

Who knew Lilia discovered the theory of relativity, turned down Henry VIII, was the first person (fae?) on the moon, and escaped the Facebook lizard!

(related to an ask from yesterday)

Yes! Especially the last thing!

The fact that no one other than the rest of Diasomnia boys would believe him… younglings are so cynical these days :(

Anonymous asked:

I feel like “Wait for It” by Leslie Odom Jr. really matches Jamil especially his feelings toward Kalim near the end of the song.

I really like this song, Anon. Maybe this is because it’s kind of difficult for me to separate it from its story and Burr and Hamilton specifically…

I agree that Jamil resonates with the feeling of unfairness when some other person just keeps doing whatever he wants and winning, while he has to sit back and wait, but Jamil’s situation still feels very different.

Then again, Jamil got his “what are you waiting for though?” moment, so 🤔 You’re onto something.

Anonymous asked:

You know, when I first read that thing you wrote on Vil being taken advantage of by older men in the industry, all I could think about was "All You Wanna Do" from the Six musical. Like, listen to it while picturing Vil and you'll understand what I mean.

You ask was driving me insane for this entire week, Anon, because I was trying to find one reply where we already talked about Vil in relation to this song, but plottwist: it doesn’t exist lol But we did get an ask about it in relation to Alois! Which is funny because somehow we keep walking back to their similarities from time to time.

To answer your question though: yeah I get it. It’s like the perfect level of uncomfortable coping with the idea of “I am not being taken advantage of, I am just that good compared to others”. Vil probably had his breaking moment when he stopped lying to himself about this whole thing.

Anonymous asked:

Do you watch k dramas? If so, you should really check out Glory. It’s a super intense one

K-dramas aren’t really our thing, but I checked the synopsis of Glory, and honestly it sounds super cool! And has this vibe of a lot of k-movies that we love, interestingly.

Thank you for your recommendation!

[tomurawr44]

would you mind writing headcanons of tomura and my oc? she’s a tall goth so i wonder what you’d think about their relationship 🫰🖤

(i’m okay with both sfw and nsfw :3)

TOMURA/OC HEADCANONS!

A/N: your oc is gorg omg! I remember seeing your posts when i first started getting back into my Tomura obsession and it forced me to lock in and actually cook up a coherent oc with lore 😭 I'm so honored I appeared on your radar🖤 maybe I'll man up and finally make my oc into a drawing to post here.... sorry if the nsfw section is short!

WARNINGS: nsfw under the cut, ooc, just assumptions based on her looks so sorry :( I DONT WANNA BUTCHER OR MISCHARACTERIZE HER SOS.....

I know you said her and tomura but toga loves her and tries to get her to hangout with her whenever Tomura has you around him.

they place their beds together in minecraft.

she has beat him in all the games he plays atleast once and he still sulks about it to this day.

they have been to the mall together and she came with him to the mall scene w/ deku to pick him up and to tell him to knock it off.

she's his collar lol she keeps him in place and to stay rational.

i would like to think she's in the league of villains.

they have painted/written on eachother's controllers, mouses, switches, and even on their clothes.

Tomura thinks her hair is really nice and just likes to carefully run his fingers through it, when i say careful i mean he individually holds locs of hair to put them between his fingers so he can run his hands through it.

Tomura thinks she's emo.

she's kind of assertive over him, but not infront of the league because she knows it'll piss him off.

one time she got so happy drunk with Tomura he had to hold her hair back while she throws up in the toilet. she's done that for him too. holding his fringe up while he vomits is such a couple thing.

twice likes to refer/compare her hair to his mask, he thinks it's cool.

dabi also thinks she's pretty chill, and wonders why she's with Tomura when obviously there's better options. (Not him, he's pretty innocent if u have read the bnha smash manga with the villains!)

he likes it when she ties her hair up.

he texts like a dad, a thumbs up or replies with some outrageously stupid image he found online.

Mr.Compress also thinks she's cool, spinner is somewhat jealous of Tomura though, but he understands why you're with him.

Magne and Toga LOVE her. as in, when the league becomes closer they've had girls sleep overs, twice was invited of course, he's the exception.

Tomura, Dabi and Spinner have eavesdropped in these conversations, mostly Tomura and Spinner while Dabi only does it if he's really bored and all he has to do is kick rocks.

Toga wears her clothes sometimes, actually, all the girls in the LoV have done a fashion show with twice.

Twice is her girls girl.

Tomura gets jealous when he walks into the sleepover room only to see you and toga cuddled up, while magne is unknowingly cuddling against twice.

he has taken a photo of it before though.

he's tried to put on height extenders inside his shoes whenever he's with the league, but after the shoe fell off because it was so loose he's never done it again.

NSFW AHEAD!

Remember when i said he likes her hair? he'll put on his gloves master gave him as a kid during sex just to grab a fistful of it and pull her by it.

he loves her chest, so much, he's constantly grabbing at it no matter what and if she tries to push him off he'll pout.

hickeys, hickeys hickeys hickeys. he loves leaving red to purple marks on her pale skin, he feels so good whenever he does that.

he likes to cum on her chest, or get a titjob while he plays some game on his computer.

they have fucked infront of AFO accidentally befor because Tomura assured her he was on mute and probably wasn't paying attention because he called out to his master several times and he got no reply. AFO just wanted to see what would happen if Tomura thought there wasn't eyes on him all the time.

he's sent her links to goth/emo pornos and says 'can we recreate this' (they always do)

he loves the height difference, he loves to nuzzle up against her chest.

he likes to fuck her with some clothes on because in his opinion it's way hotter. (ref to the 2nd pic and her top)

he likes it when she wears heels and lets him hump against her foot, especially with the height difference? he's cumming in his pants that's for sure.

he eats her pussy like a starved man, she has to pull him by the hair to get him to give her a break.

he likes choking her and seeing the red mark formed from his grip, it turns him on so much.

[ghosttotheparty]

lessons in femininity

part two of pretty girls part 1 also on ao3

Steve never intended on telling anyone.

Not a soul.

But Eddie fucking Munson pried it out of his chest, so patiently and tenderly and lovingly that Steve let him.

And now Steve is on his way to his best friend’s house because her parents aren’t home, and his hands are shaking, and he can’t really breathe, but even though he feels like he might die, he has a weird feeling he’s going to be fine.

He stops his car about a block away, taking a deep breath and squeezing the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. And then he steels himself, tensing as he pulls into Robin’s driveway.

———

No, I’m fine, I just… I need to tell you something.

Robin’s had a pit in her stomach since Steve called her and asked if he could come over, anxiety and a little bit of fear knitted inside her because of the way Steve’s voice was shaking.

He gives her a weak smile when she opens the door for him, and she pulls him inside.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughs lightly, pushing his hands in his pockets. He does that when he’s nervous.

“Nothing wrong, I just… gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” Robin asks anxiously.

“Uh.” Steve pauses, pushing his hand through his hair. “Can we sit?”

“Wanna go to my room?” Robin asks. Steve nods.

He follows her down the hall, and she shuts the door as he sits cross-legged on her bed even though there’s no one else home. He’s looking at the painting on her wall that she did when she was fourteen. A shitty ufo abducting a cow. He loves that painting.

“What’s going on?” she asks, crawling onto the bed.

“Uhm.” He takes a deep, shaky breath and pushes his glasses up. “I’m, uhm.”

“Steve,” she says softly. He shakes his head, smiling weakly.

“I’m fine, I swear,” he says, because sometimes he can read her mind. She wishes she could read his right now. He takes a deep breath, his hands on his knees, straightening his arms out like he’s bracing himself. “Okay. I’m— I’m queer.”

She stares at him, wide-eyed, and she relaxes, slumping, and her lips curve into a slow smile. His eyes cut up to hers.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Steve, that’s…”

He takes a breath.

“It’s not— It’s not just…” He pushes his hair back again. His hands are shaking. Robins’s stomach twists, and she reaches out, taking his hands in her own, pulling at them until Steve shifts. Their legs wrap around each other and she cradles his hands gently.

“What is it?”

“So…” He exhales shakily, playing with her fingers. “I like… I like men. Also.”

“Cool,” she says softly.

“But I also, uhm…” He blinks hard, swaying slightly, his hands tightening on Robin’s.

“Steve?”

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Just got a little lightheaded, ‘m fine.”

“Are you gonna have a migraine?” she asks worriedly. “Should I close the curtains?”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry.”

“You can’t tell me you’re lightheaded and then tell me you're fine--"

"I'm fine,” he insists, laughing softly, squeezing her hands. “I’m just nervous, I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to be nervous, you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” he says adamantly. “‘S just— I wasn’t ever gonna tell you because it’s— I think it’s weird, but Eddie says it’s not weird,” he says quietly, looking at their linked hands. “And you’re my best friend in the world, so I want you to know, but I just— I don’t know how to say it.”

“You told Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at her nervously.

“Tell me what you told him.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Okay. Uhm.” He looks at their hands again, tracing a line on her palm carefully like he’s drawing it. “So. I don’t think…” He hesitates, wincing. “I know,” he corrects. “I’m not just… a guy.”

She blinks, closing her fingers around his hand, listening intently.

“Okay,” she says softly.

“I’m— I’m a girl too. Kind of. I’m both,” he says choppily, anxiously, his hands trembling. She squeezes. “Eddie says he— he’s met people like me. Transsexuals and…” He takes a gasping breath, and she leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“‘S cool, Steve,” she says gently, squeezing his hands. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t— It’s not that I want to be a woman,” Steve says anxiously. “I’m just… I wouldn’t mind it? I like… being called pretty, and— and Eddie called me a girl and I really liked it.”

Robin listens, ignoring the curiosity that’s curling in her chest. (She wonders why Steve started all this by saying he likes men. Why Eddie was the first person he told about all of this. But at the same time, she doesn’t really wonder. Maybe she can read his mind the way he can read hers.)

“But at the same time I don’t, like, mind being called dude, or being seen as a man.” He’s quiet for a second. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Robin whispers. “That makes sense.”

He swallows nervously, biting his lip.

“Steve,” she says softly. “It’s fine. I’m not… judging you or anything. Not about this.”

He shoots her a look, scoffing, blinking tears out of his eyes. She wipes one away.

“Your taste in movies, sure,” she teases, and he laughs softly. “But not about this, not about who you are.”

She leans in, resting her forehead on his, and he takes a soft, gasping breath.

“I love you, Steve,” she murmurs. “Okay? No matter what.”

He lets go of her hands and wraps his arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight hug. She squeezes her eyes shut, moving forward so she’s sitting between his legs, her legs around his waist, and she runs a hand over the back of his head when she feels him inhale slowly.

She sighs when they separate, patting his cheek. He laughs softly.

“If I talk about you to Eddie how should I refer to you?” she asks.

“Uh.” He looks away, smiling softly like he doesn’t even realise he’s smiling. “He. I think. I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay.”

“We’re gonna go to, uhm, a queer bar in Indy,” Steve tells her, smiling crookedly, happily. “And he said I can try new things out. Being a girl.”

She smiles back.

“Eddie, huh?”

His face flushes red and he rubs his cheek bashfully, his eyes shining. Robin pokes his stomach, cooing, and he rolls his eyes, throwing himself onto his back.

But Robin’s legs are still around him, and she goes down with him, shouting his name. He wraps his arms around her tightly, laughing loudly.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Ugh.”

They’re quiet for a moment, still giggling as they hold each other, until she sits up abruptly and looks down at him.

“How do you feel about makeup?”

“Uh. I’ve never worn it.”

“Would you like to?”

“…I’m open to the idea.”

She beams, scrambling to get up off of him, and he sighs heavily.

When she comes back with her makeup bags in hand, he’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking at the mural again.

“God, you really like that painting,” she says, sitting across from him.

“I want one,” he says. “When I get my own apartment.”

“I’ll do it for you,” she says lightly. “If you supply the paint.”

“Deal.”

“So, Eddie,” she says as she pulls his glasses off his face and hooks them on the front of her shirt. He rolls his eyes, blushing again. “Come on,” she says adamantly, rummaging through a bag. He watches, squinting. “I never got to gush about crushes and stuff with my friends.”

“‘S not really a crush,” Steve mutters quietly. She freezes as she’s pulling blush out.

“What’s that mean?”

Steve looks down, his fingers tangled in his lap.

“‘S my boyfriend,” he mumbles.

She smacks his shoulder.

“You asswipe, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It only happened like a few days ago,” he says defensively.

“Fine,” she says, reaching for the blush brush. “Strong tally on the You Rule board.”

He beams brightly, and the apples of his cheeks rise. Robin grins and puts the blush on them.

“So how’d it happen?” she asks, leaning back to make sure the blush is even. His left cheek is pinker, so she adds more to the right. “You and Eddie.”

“Uh.” He closes his eyes. “I think we’ve always had, like. A thing.”

“Uh-huh.” She brushes it over his nose.

“He was over with the kids for Hellfire at my place the other day. And we— Oh you’re gonna hate this.”

She rolls her eyes as she puts the blush away.

“Just tell me.”

“We went out for a smoke.”

Robin groans loudly. He laughs. She looks through her eyeshadows as they talk.

“Whatever.”

“I only went because I wanted to be near him.

“Sickeningly romantic, Steve.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I followed him out, and when I went to light my cigarette, he stopped me and said that pretty girls never light their own cigarettes.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it like… did something to me.”

“Gross.”

He laughs, and she finally settles on a colour, using her finger to brush it over his eyelid. He flinches back for a moment before he relaxes again.

“And?” she prompts. She can’t stop smiling.

“It felt nice,” he says softly. “I haven’t been called a girl since I was a kid. At least not in like… a nice way?”

“Yeah?”

“I couldn’t really, like… laugh it off. And he could tell something was up, so after the kids left, we… talked.”

“Talked,” Robin repeats slowly.

“We talked,” he insists. “I explained everything, and he was really… sweet. And then we made out for a while. And stuff.”

“Oh my god.”

He grins.

She rummages for her brushes and looks though the eyeshadow again.

“Is he a good kisser?” she asks as she starts working again.

“Mm.”

“Don’t moan—”

“I didn’t moan, that was an affirmative noise. You’re so dramatic.”

“Whatever.”

“How’s Vickie?”

“Vickie…” She sighs, smudging the makeup carefully. “She’s great.“

“But?”

“But. I don’t know,” she sighs again, touching his chin to make him tilt his head. “We’re, like… really similar. Which I didn’t know until we started hanging out. But like… We even have the same haircut, Steve.”

Steve snorts, and she swats at his nose.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Anyway, she’s really cool, and I do like her, ‘s just… We went out a while ago and our waitress and another customer both thought we were sisters. Not even friends, Steve. Sisters. Which, like, I go out with you, people think we’re siblings, that’s fine, that’s kinda funny, you know? We’re best friends, we can be siblings, whatever. But a girl I wanna date? God, it was so awkward, Steve.”

“So you’re not seeing her again?”

“I don’t think so,” she sighs. “Maybe it’ll be more fun to hang out with her without, like… trying to be in a relationship with her? Think I’d like to be her friend. And…” She trails off, pulling her hands away from Steve’s face.

“And?”

She exhales, his chest tightening.

“God, I’m an awful friend.”

“I just told you I’m a girl with a dick and you said ‘That’s cool,’ and promptly started doing my makeup. You’re a good friend, Robin.”

He opens his eyes and looks at her. The makeup looks nice.

“And what?” he prompts softly.

She fidgets with the makeup brush in her hands, spinning it the way she spins her pens.

“I think… maybe part of the reason I’m not super into Vickie anymore because I might be kinda, really into, uhm. Nancy.”

She looks up at him nervously, but he just smiles.

“Cool.”

“Steve. It’s not cool.”

“It’s cool.”

“Steve.” She glares at him halfheartedly. “…It’s not cool.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says, smiling, leaning forward in emphasis.

“She’s your ex.”

“She’s my friend.” He reaches up and holds her chin. She can tell that Steve can’t see her clearly, his eyes not entirely focussed on her, but it doesn’t seem to matter. “And you’re my best friend. And I want you to be happy.”

She frowns, her eyes burning.

“You should go for it,” he says, letting go of her. She pulls his face closer, and his eyes fall shut.

“She doesn’t even like girls,” Robin grumbles.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you do?”

He shrugs.

“I didn’t know I liked guys for a good while.”

“‘S true,” she mutters.

Steve smiles absently as she finishes his makeup, even when he tells her not to stab his eye with the mascara.

She leans back when she finishes, satisfied. His eyelids are a shimmery pink, soft blue fluffed out around his lash lines. His eyelashes are dark and long, his cheeks pink, and they flush even pinker when Robin says softly, “You look pretty.”

“You think?”

“Here.” She pulls his glasses off her shirt and hands them to him, reaching for the pocket mirror as he puts them on. His eyes widen when he looks into it, his smile softening.

“Oh.”

“You wanna try on a dress, pretty girl?” Robin asks, grinning.

“Can I?”

Her grin widens, and she scrambles out of bed to her closet.

He goes to the bathroom down the hall to change, and she sorts her makeup out as she waits.

“Robin, I don’t know…”

She looks up, and the makeup bag slips from her fingers. Steve is standing in the doorway, looking down at himself. The dress is blue, matching his makeup, and the skirt flows when he shifts his weight.

She sits heavily on the bed as he looks up at her.

“Woah.”

“Woah?” he questions, rubbing his hands over the dress. “Good woah?”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning, looking him up and down. She picked the dress for him to pick because it fit her weirdly, but it fits him��perfectly, hugging his waist and chest. “You’re keeping that.”

“Wha— I can’t just keep your dress, Robin.”

“It doesn’t even fit me, Steve,” she says, still looking at him. “You’re keeping it.”

He looks back down at the dress quietly, running his hands over it slowly, and his lips curve into a small smile.

“…Okay.”

“Do you feel pretty?”

He pauses, swaying slightly and watching the skirt twirl.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I do.”

“Gimme a spin.”

He does, grinning brightly when she squeals excitedly as the skirt twirls around his legs.

“You gotta show Eddie,” she says, bouncing up and down in excitement. “He’s gonna love it.”

“You think?” Steve asks in a small voice, nervously.

“For sure.”

He tackles her onto the bed, and she cackles, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Can I do your makeup?” he asks after a minute. “Will you teach me?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

Steve is a fast learner. His hands are gentle as he runs the brushes and his fingers softly over her skin, and she thinks she could fall asleep here.

They take photos with her Polaroid when he finishes. One for her, one for Steve, and one more for Eddie, the bottoms all inscribed with S + R 1989.

She makes Steve take some makeup home with him the next day, just for days he wants to feel pretty. And for when he goes to Indy with Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~

“Munson residence.”

“So formal, Eddie.”

Eddie grins, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes to listen to Steve’s voice, slightly staticky over the phone.

“Gotta be, just in case. What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

“Not much, I just…”

Eddie tilts his head.

“Just?”

“Uhm. Can you come over?” Steve asks softly.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asks, standing up straight, furrowing his brows. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m— I’m fine, baby, I just… I have something to show you.”

“To show me?” Eddie repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a surprise?”

“Yes?”

“Am I gonna like it?”

“I think so?”

Eddie grins, licking his lips and looking across the room at his shoes.

“I‘ll head over in a few minutes. ‘M cleaning the kitchen for Wayne.”

“Okay. More time for me to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Eddie repeats, raising his eyebrows, smiling and biting his lip. “My interest is piqued.”

“Good.” Steve is quiet for a moment, but Eddie can practically hear his smile. “I miss you.”

“It’s been two days, babygirl.”

“God, tell me about it.”

“…I miss you too,” Eddie says quietly, pulling his hair to hide his face.

“Lame.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, still smiling. “I’m gonna clean faster than I’ve ever cleaned in my life and then I’ll head over.”

“Okay. Uhm. Just come upstairs when you get here, don’t knock or anything.”

“Oh, I am so curious,” Eddie says adamantly, his stomach fluttering.

“Go clean.”

“Going cleaning. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Lame.”

Eddie hears him snort as he hangs the phone up, and his hands flap joyfully as he heads back to the kitchen.

If he speeds on the way to Steve’s, that’s no one’s business but his.

He kicks his shoes off at the door, looking around happily at all the shit the kids have left behind. Jackets and hats and worksheets and pens and dice.

“Stevie,” he sings as he heads up the stairs, and he knocks a quiet rhythm on his door before swinging it open. “Hey, sweet— Oh.”

He freezes, his smile falling as his eyes land on Steve, sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling up at him.

He’s wearing a dress.

A pretty blue dress that fans out over his knees as he kicks his socked feet, holding the edge of the bed. His eyes blink behind his glasses, his eyelids shimmery and pink, his lashes dark. His cheeks are flushed.

“Hi,” he says softly.

Eddie leans against the wall, shutting the door without blinking, and he slides to the floor. His mouth is hanging open, his eyes wide, and he exhales sharply. Steve giggles softly.

“Stand,” Eddie says softly, absently, and Steve does, standing and holding his arms out, swaying to make the skirt twirl a little bit.

“Wow,” Eddie breathes.

“You like it?”

Eddie blinks at him, his eyes scanning over the way the fabric of the dress stretches over his waist, the way the neckline dips to show his chest hair, the way the thin fabric of the short sleeves flutter when he moves. Eddie looks at his face, at the blush on his cheek and his shining eyelids, the way the mascara makes his eyes even brighter.

“Eddie?” Steve says softly, and Eddie blinks.

“You look beautiful, princess,” he whispers.

Steve’s face turns even more pink, and he slides his hands over the dress.

“Really?”

Eddie scoffs, gazing up at him. His whole body aches with the desire to touch him, and his chest is tight. He can’t really breathe.

“Jesus, Stevie.”

Steve grins, twirling the skirt again, and then he sits in front of Eddie, crossing his legs and draping the skirt over his lap carefully.

Eddie moves forward, swallowing thickly.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Eddie reaches out and slides his hands over Steve’s arms, squeezing his biceps gently, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder over the fabric.

“So pretty, Stevie,” he murmurs, kissing the side of his neck.

“Robin showed me how to use her makeup,” Steve says quietly. Eddie looks at him, at the shimmer of his eyelids.

“You did a good job.”

“You think so?”

Eddie reaches up and touches his face gently, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks, under his glasses. He gazes at him, at his eyelashes and the moles that spot his skin. His lips.

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, pulls at it a little bit, smiling with Steve is pliant and parts his lips like Eddie’s going to press his thumb into his mouth.

“You ever think about lipstick?”

He kisses Steve before he can answer, and Steve smiles against his mouth, reaching to hold his face. His hands are soft.

“Might be a problem if I can’t keep my lips off you, though,” Eddie adds softly, holding Steve’s chin.

Steve hums.

“Could be fun to get it all over your face.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise.

“You are… awakening things inside me.”

Steve giggles brightly, tugging at Eddie’s shirt and moving up onto his knees, pulling Eddie forward and then pushing him to lay on his back on the floor.

Steve crawls over him, straddling his waist, setting the skirt delicately, and Eddie feels like he could cry.

“You look like a fucking angel,” Eddie says softly. “Holy shit.”

“What’s your favourite colour lipstick?” Steve asks, grinning, settling his weight on Eddie. His hands press over Eddie’s chest.

“Red,” Eddie says softly.

“What kinda red?”

“…Bright.”

“I’ll find some,” Steve says softly, leaning down, pressing on Eddie’s chest. He presses a slow kiss just beside Eddie’s mouth. “Mark you up.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says weakly, keening as Steve starts to press kiss over his cheeks and jaw. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Steve is gigging against his skin, gripping the front of his shirt.

“You okay?”

“Stevie, I got the prettiest girl in Hawkins holding me onto the ground and lovin’ on me, I’m so fucking okay.”

Steve sits up to take his glasses off, and he sets them aside before burying his face in Eddie’s neck.

~~~~~~~~~

It’s starting to rain by the time the girls get to Steve’s house. Erica pulls her hood up over her head and El is covering her eyes with a hand as they follow Max up the stairs, where she bangs on the door obnoxiously.

It takes a few seconds before Steve flings the door open, his eyes wide.

“Jesus,” he says when his eyes meet Max’s. “What the hell?”

“We’re having a girls’ day,” she says, looking up at him. He looks different these days. Lighter. His hair looks softer. His cheeks are pinker. And he smells different, warmer, less like a guys’ locker room.

“Okay?” he says, looking at Erica and El. “Why are you here?”

“They’re doing maintenance at my place,” Max says. “The guys are all at the Sinclairs’, and Jonathan and Argyle are getting high at the Byers-Hoppers’.”

Steve blinks blankly at her.

“We’d hang out at the quarry or something, but…” She gestures at the sky, and his eyes follow, looking at the dark clouds and the sprinkling rain. “Can we come in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He holds the door open for them. Max punches his side gently as she passes.

They go to the living room after kicking off their shoes. Steve takes their coats and hangs them up by the door.

“You guys need anything?” he asks as they get settled on the sofa.

Erica sets her chin on the back of it, looking over at him in the entry of the living room.

“Can you feed us?”

“Uh. I can order pizza.”

“Ah, fuck yeah,” Max says. Steve clicks his tongue.

“Language.”

“Can you get one with pineapple?” El asks. “Please?”

She’s Steve’s favourite.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, smiling. “Even though it’s gross.”

“Try before you deny,” El says lightly, turning to open her backpack. Steve scoffs.

“You spend too much time with Argyle.”

“He’s funny.”

Steve goes to order the pizza. Max puts on a movie while Erica and El sort through their nail polish collections, discussing which colours they want.

Erica chooses a vibrant purple. El chooses a coral pink. Max chooses a dark blue.

While they wait for the pizza, Steve brings them soda. Mello Yello for Max and Pepsis for Erica and El. Max sees his eyes linger on the nail polish, on Erica painting El’s nails carefully, meticulously. He seems to get stuck for a few seconds, watching almost curiously.

So the next time he comes in with a bowl of chopped apples and grapes and strawberries, she stops him.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…Can I paint your nails?”

She’s almost joking, prepared to laugh it off, prepared for him to scoff and roll his eyes and say whatever. But he looks back at her for a moment, and then—

“Yeah, sure.”

El gasps in excitement, wiggling for a moment in her seat as she reaches for the bag of nail polish, careful not to mess up her nails.

“Wait, really?” Erica says, looking up at him, her eyes and smile wide.

“Yeah, why not?”

“What colour do you want?” Max asks as Steve sits on the floor in front of the sofa, looking up at her.

“You guys pick.”

He listens as they bicker together, and they eventually settle on a shade of pink so pale it’s almost white. Max expects Steve to argue or wrinkle his nose at it, but he just smiles and sets his hands out on the sofa for them to work.

“How do you do that so neatly?” he asks curiously, watching El’s hands.

She shows him, reciting everything Joyce told her a few years ago, carefully pressing the brush up near his cuticles, holding the tip of his finger to avoid getting paint on the skin around his nails, and he watches raptly, open-mouthed as if in awe. Max catches Erica’s eye over his head and they both giggle.

The pizza arrives as El is painting his right hand, holding it up close to her face, her brows furrowed adorably in concentration, and Erica goes to get it. Max holds slices in front of Steve’s face for him to take bites from as his nails are painted, and Erica does the same for El.

El asks Steve if he wants to try putting the top coat on her nails. He does, seemingly remembering everything she said, his eyes wide, brows furrowed, tongue poking over his lips in concentration. El smiles the whole time.

They put on another movie when they finish with everyone’s nails. Steve won’t stop smiling, glancing at his while they finish the pizza and fruit. El curls up against his side after she finishes eating. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Max lays her head on El’s lap, closing her eyes when she feels her fingers run through her hair, carefully untangling it.

When she wakes up, her glasses are on the coffee table next to the empty pizza boxes. She sits up slowly, squinting, and finds them before she looks at the others.

El is still laying against Steve, her cheek squishing against his chest, and Erica is on his other side, her legs across his lap, her face on his shoulder. Steve’s glasses are crooked, and his mouth is hanging open, his head resting on the back of the sofa. Max smiles, rubbing her face.

She stands, wobbly, when there’s a noise in the kitchen, and she quietly exits the room, squinting again, this time out of suspicion.

Eddie is at the stove, humming to himself as he scrapes eggs on a pan.

“Eddie?”

He turns, raising his eyebrows. He’s wearing a frilly apron, the words #1 MOM across his chest, a gag gift from the boys to Steve.

“Mornin’, Red.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Came by to see Stevie,” he says lightly, turning back to the stove. “Walked in on that sweet cuddle fest in the living room. I considered joining but I didn’t wanna wake you guys up.”

“Huh.”

She stretches, yawning and looking around the kitchen. Her eyes catch on the fridge. There’s a new Polaroid photo stuck to it with the drawings Erica and Will have given Steve. (There’s one of him as a knight. Max thinks that’s Steve’s favourite. He wouldn’t stop staring at it when Will handed it to him.)

She gets closer. Even with her coke-bottle glasses, her vision isn’t very good.

“You took a picture?”

She stares at it. Her own sleeping face, partially hidden by her hair, El’s hand resting on her head. El’s face on Steve’s chest, his arm around her, his other around Erica. In the photo, the pink of his nails is barely visible, but the angle shows the bottles of nail polish on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, scooping the eggs into a bowl. “Had to. Walkin’ into a cute scene like that. I’d paint it if I could.”

She snorts.

Eddie sits on the table when he finishes cooking. (Eggs and french toast, like was in a mission to use every egg in the fridge.) She sits down she can lay her head on his leg as he sips her coffee.

“Will you give me a tattoo when I turn eighteen?”

“I don’t know how to tattoo people, Red.”

“Will you take me to get a tattoo when I turn eighteen?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Hm.” She nuzzles into his leg, and he sips his coffee noisily, running a hand through her hair. She’s grateful he doesn’t have many rings on. “Maybe some Kate Bush lyrics.”

“Fuck, that’s smart. I should get some.”

She snorts.

“You a Kate Bush fan?”

“Definitely,” he says, his voice echoing in the mug before he sips again. “Kept you around, didn’t she?”

She tries, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smile.

The others join them after a while. Steve looks more awake than El and Erica, and Max wonders if he woke up and just stayed there for a while.

As the girls are serving themselves, Steve joins Eddie at the coffee maker. Max watches as Steve holds his hand up so Eddie can see his nails, smiling almost proudly. Eddie smiles in a way Max has never seen before. He looks like he might cry. They exchange a few words that Max can’t hear, and a nod, and then just as Max is about to look away, Eddie lifts Steve’s hand to his lips and pecks the back of it, his eyes shining.

Max’s eyebrows fly up, and she expects Steve to smack him away with a good-natured laugh, but Steve twists his hand to hold Eddie’s chin for a second, and then he turns away. He’s smiling. Eddie is gazing at him.

Max tears her eyes away, trying to suppress her own smile.

It makes sense, she guesses as she places slices of french toast on her plate. Why Eddie walks into the Harrington house like he lives there. Why last week he was wearing a red sweater that Max knew belongs to Steve. Why he calls Steve Stevie. Why Steve’s eyes follow him around every time the Party hangs out. Why he wears Eddie’s red guitar pick around his neck. (It’s usually under his shirt or sweater, but he has a tendency to fidget, and Max is observant.)

She douses the french toast in maple syrup.

“That is so much syrup, holy shit,” Steve says, staring at her plate, wide-eyed.

“It’s the food of gods, Steven.”

“Christ.”

She sits next to Erica so Steve and Eddie can sit next to each other.

[resident-gay-bitch]

Hello there, I’m in genuine need of more fandom / online friends so like, if you also want more friends, here’s some info about me and maybe we can be friends? <3

My names Jay, I’ve recently picked it for myself (and then realised I could have possibly had an even cooler name Bo which is the shortened of my middle name and now im cursing myself for not realising it sooner and questioning weather or not to do a switch cause idk if Bo or Jay suits me better?!!). I’m 20 and FtM, and I go by he/they pronouns primarily but I also don’t mind if you use any others :)

I’m also Australian so yeah idk if that’s a selling point or not

Oh and I’m labelled as queer, I guess, but dude sexuality is confusing. I’ve recently been going down the aromantic / asexual spiral of questioning but I’m so unsure of everything I really suck at telling the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. I’m also somewhere in the sapphic spectrum I believe. So if you can relate to this mindfuck in any way that would also be rad.

I write fan fic for the Marauders Fandom (sirius is my everything and I’m also a tall sirius truther) and also Stranger Things but primarily Steddie for that tbh.

I’m also in the Good Omens fandom, as well as a few others more casually and don’t write fic for them :) recently I’ve been starting to watch JJK cause my best friend is really into it

My favorite two movies of all time are Rocky Horror Picture Show and Cars. That probably tells you a lot about me to be honest so do with that as you will :)

My favorite musicians are David Bowie at No. 1 (my lord and saviour), Maya Hawke, Hozier, Radiohead (im not a red flag I promise), Conan (I’m seeing him on fri wtf), ooo and I’ll add SOAD cause I’m really into them this month. But it’s ever changing really and there are too many to choose from, I’d say they’re my most listened to though :) I am chronically listening.

Uh I’m gonna spitball some more facts about me this is kinda hard:

I’m the eldest of 4 kids 💀 one of them is 5 years younger than me 💀💀 the other two are 6 years younger 💀💀💀 (I love them sm the annoying shitstarters)

I love to draw and make art but I suck at anatomy and colour theory it makes me want to rip my hair out (and I wanna be a fan artist so bad)

I’m attempting to learn bass but I also cannot commit to learning the bass (I blame my sibling for keeping it in their wardrobe so I forgoet it exists)

I am 90% sure I’m neurodivergent I just cannot really afford to get that diagnosis rn ya know?!

I did ballet & dance most of my life 🤯🤯 (now I’m a bartender and my old ballet teacher is a regular at the sailing club I work and now I look queer and cunty as hell and every time she sees me she just stares in disbelief and fake smiles it’s hilarious)

I still sleep with my childhood teddy :( I love her she is my one thing I would save in a fire. Her name is charlotte and she’s probably 3 years overdue for a bath but I love her

I’m fucking weird about stars - the shape not the astrology - like I love them. I see them and I get very excited and I draw them everywhere (you can probably tell off all my master lists, they all have stars drawn on the title strips 😭) I just really love them they’re so cute. I almost named myself Star actually

I’m a sagittarius. I don’t know what that means but I know it means a lot of things to people so hopefully it’s good things!

My favorite colour is green but more so earthy and cool greens. I love a good scrumptious yummy green, something mossy something sagey. I have a green wall in my room and it’s very nice to look at.

I lived abroad for a little bit as a teen in Vietnam which was amazing and I’m planning to move somewhere abroad again next year hopefully (seriously get me the hell out of SA)

My biggest dream / goal / career choice for most of my life was to be an actor but now I’m just kinda existing with no real drive or purpose in life. But I might pick acting back up now I’m becoming more comfy with myself and my gender :) my dream role is to play Frank from Rocky.

Uuuuuh that’s all I can think of :)

So yes, I hope I have appealed to your interests in one way or another. And if you’d maybe like to be friends please don’t hesitate to send me a message!

Maybe tell me a cool fact about yourself?

Or if you’re too shy to message first you could just add a random comment here or say something in the tags? I’ll message you! <3

Also if you have anymore questions I am trying to be a bit more of an open book, I love when people dive in with the nitty gritty so if you have strange questions I’ll probably be very excited to answer them lmao

Anyway, I hope you have a lovely day random people in my phone I hope to befriend <333

[sailingmakai]

Do you have favourite blogs?

Do you have favourite ships?

Do you have favourite blogs?

(( Yes~ As guilty as that statement makes me feel ;w; @tres-fidelis, @revclver-jesus, @oraclememehacker, @webbedphantom, and @trickstersshadow are a few of them! Probably others, but tumblr's being a POS to me right now and not letting me see all the people I follow OR that follow me so those are off the top of my head.

In general I love all the blogs I follow though so picking specific ones is haaard- D:

Do you have favourite ships?

Cutting this, because this one got a bit long lmao. I like talking about my favorite ships and I don't get to that often I value your ease of scrolling, so - it gets cut.

Anyway - also yes! :D

In Persona 5, my two favorite ships are

-> Akiren+Haru; she wants to make a cafe and he can cook, and they're cute as HELL together. I love the thought of them opening a cafe together~ Plus, Haru can be TERRIFYING when she wants to be, and I love the thought of her being sweet on her man one moment, then sweetly threatening to gut his enemies, the next. :D

-> Akiren+Akechi; I can't help it, they vibe so well with each other. I doubt they'd have the healthiest relationship, though. Not toxic, but it'd be toeing the line something fierce, I think. I think their flirting would look almost exactly like their fighting. And vice versa. You'd never be able to tell from the outside if they're mad at each other or not.

I'm also partial to PolyThieves, because it can be very cute when written well~

If I may offer some bonus ships;

-> FF7 / Cloud+Tifa; Come on that max-rank Gold Saucer date in 7R is ADORABLE as hell, and watching Tifa draw Cloud out of his shell the way she does in Rebirth now and again is just... ugh. I need Remake Finale asap, man. Also if it's not called Reunion I'm gonna be SO mad at Squenix I swear

-> HSR / Caelus+Aventurine; This is a bit of a weird one and I'm anxious as fuck mentioning it because my knowledge of Hoyoverse fandoms is that they can be toxic as fuck, but I just think these two would be really cute together once Aventurine lets his hair/guard down a little. There's some good potential for softness from these two - two guys that never really had a childhood just being soft with each other cause neither really belongs anywhere. Say what you will about Caelus/Trailblazer having the Express Crew, he's still kind of a sore thumb everywhere he goes, just like Aventurine.

And! a Super-Bonus!

-> Akiren+Korra+Asami! (P5+TLOK) This is a crossover ship me and a friend of mine stumbled into liking over on Discord. The idea of Akira meeting Korra is something we really liked, and then we realized they were actually... super cute together? I felt like Akira (at least MY Akira) would just turn to mush over seeing this really fit, really athletic girl with super cool Bending powers that could bench-press him with ease. We also didn't wanna seperate Korra and Asami, so we ultimately decided that all involved parties have more than one hand to hold. So now they're a trio of soft idiots being soft idiots together~ It's silly and probably dumb but I just think they're all super cute together~ ))

[theysherobinbuckley]

my childhood friends stobin au is all I can think about yet I've barely written any of it because I simply cannot figure out how this fucking thing is structured. anyway have a baby stobin excerpt under the cut

Sometimes after school Mrs. Buckley drove them to the park or took them to get ice cream, but most days she just walked them back to Steve’s house because it was closer than Robin’s. Usually they would play pretend outside while Mrs. Buckley made them a snack, or if it was too cold they stayed inside and watched Cinderella.

But today was hot, hotter than it had any right to be, so Mrs. Buckley hooked up a kiddie sprinkler and let them run around in it for a whole hour before they had to start their homework. 

Their hour was almost up when Steve slipped on the wet pavement and skinned his knee. 

“Oh no, that looks really bad!” Robin screeched, rushing to his side. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, a lot,” he replied, voice shaky. There sure was a lot of blood on his knee, and some rocks were stuck in it. He sniffled, but he didn’t want to cry in front of Robin because then she would cry too. “It really stings.”

She nodded solemnly, took a few deep breaths to ground both herself and Steve.

“Okay, Stevie,” she said. When they first met, she was so little she couldn’t say his name right, but it was nice to have a special nickname from his best friend. “Time to be brave.”

Her hands gingerly brushed the pebbles and debris from his wound. Steve watched as she cupped her hands and gathered water from the sprinkler just to pour it over his leg. Blood and water ran down his shin in long red streaks. It was scary to look at, but the water felt kind of good.

Steve said so, looking up at Robin expectantly.

“Well, if the blood doesn’t go away, we hafta cut it off.”

“Cut it off?” Steve felt his stomach drop to his toes. “What are you talking about!”

“That’s what happens on Mom’s shows,” Robin replied seriously. “Sometimes there’s too much blood and gross stuff and they can’t fix it. So they hafta cut it off.”

“Robin! I don’t wanna have only one leg!”

Robin shrugged like Steve wasn’t having a limb-related crisis.

“You can get a fake one and draw cool pictures on it,” she said. “I’ll sign it.”

“Robin!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll go get Mom. Stay here.”

Steve nodded, even though it wasn’t like he had a choice. His legs were shaking so bad and his head was spinning so much that if he tried to get up, he’d fall right back down again, and then they’d have to take off his other leg, and that was just too much for him to think about right now.

Not long after Robin disappeared into the house, hair still stringy and dripping wet, Mrs. Buckley came rushing out, a little red box clutched in one hand. She wiped Steve’s knee with a little cloth that hurt a lot, but it was okay because Robin held his hand. Then Mrs. Buckley spread some sticky stuff on it and covered it with a band-aid.

Luckily, Steve got to keep his leg, but sprinkler time ended a whole ten minutes early.

[riacte]

🛸 exterrasexymenpoll Follow

THE RED KING from TEAM DOGWARTS and BLUE BATS

vs

HAND OF THE KING from TEAM DOGWARTS

Please stop mentioning the Blue Stalker in our comments. They have caused a lot of distress for the Exterra community, no matter how “sexy” they are or “how many bitches” they get.

Once again, we condone voter fraud, but we draw the line at spamming our polls with links to the enemies to lovers Blue Stalker x Red King fic.

🎇 thestarsweremadeforus Follow

OFHHDFJSJDJS ITS HERE!!! DIVORCE POST!!! HAND VS KING the boyfriends are fighting!!!

Not gonna lie I was so absorbed in the potential hilarity of this matchup that I failed to realise I have to vote for someone now. I’m. Im genuinely torn 😭😭😭

💄 gaysloveqoh Follow

stop saying treebark is divorcing when they BOTH are on qoh’s side 😭 they’re united in their respect for our queen 😤

anyways idk what to do now that blueballs is out. anyone wanna make an alliance with the ballgurls 🥰

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

You’re right, the gays DO love qoh (gays being treebark)

This is so cruel, putting the king against his loyal hand… I am drowning, there is no sign of land, you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand…

#RKSWEEP though (I say with tears in my eyes)

👽 blueballs Follow

sorry but the blue stalker DOES get all the bitches 😎 more sexyman energy than xisuma exterra void anyway

anyways im endorsing red king LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

👑 princeofhearts Follow

To the #HEARTSWEEP people mourning their loss, why vote for [deadname] when you can vote for his transitioned self, the Hand of the King? Stop being so fixated on [deadname], he’s still RK’s gunner 😭

Btw the ship wars between RK x Hand vs RK x QoH are so stupid like the Hand and QoH are the same people???? Some miraculous laserbug love square type of bullshit? Anyways I support the prince of hearts 🙏

🍬 gunnerwithashotgun Follow

@/princeofhearts ur a freak, stfu!!! queen of hearts and hand of the king are TOTALLY different ppl (they have different bioneos colours) and ur being lumianphobic by thinking theyre the same even tho they're just the same SPECIES (they even have different cultures like the hand keeps on roasting rk for calling tuski "pearl" bc that's the way qoh learned it??)

🪓 handoftheking Follow

I’m adding “not False Symmetry / Queen of Hearts” to my bio. Like, she’s super cool, but I’m unfortunately not her.

Anyways, vote for me over that old man. You’re not letting a potato win, right?

💫 concorp-official Follow

Vote for the Red King! Show a screenshot that you voted for him at any ConCorp intergalactic outlet and receive a 5% discount, effective today!

⏳ rensanddaddy Follow

NOT THE OBVIOUS BRIBERY FROM MR CUB HIMSELF.... we need to vote harder for the Hand!! Just look at his blonde ass hair and blue dishwasher detergent freckles!! He's so pathetic and a meow meow and I want to lovingly crush him against the walls of a spaceship (im not the blue stalker i promise)

🐙 doctagon Follow

... guys. i. The actual Exterra official account on twt sent out the link to this poll?? The ACTUAL account?? We've breached so many layers of containment???????

🪓 handoftheking Follow

... Okay, that miiiight be my fault? It's good PR for us, right? We're the two sexiest racers in the Exterra industry on the podium together. It's good for our image, and maybe people will FINALLY stop truthing I'm transgender QoH

🌲 dilfkisser Follow

I hope we get a perfect 50/50 tie. I want homoerotic RK and his homoerotic Hand to both win. I want them to stand on the podium and make out while holding a pride flag while BlueBalls beatboxes in the shadows. I hope we all win. (Except the transgender lumian theory believers, go touch some stardust)

[dainesanddaffodils]

I wanna write fic but my Brain doesn't so instead of a full fic I'm just gonna write a long Tumblr post about the thing I wanna write fic about that's... kinda a fic? mix of fic and not fic

soo

AU where Estinien and Cimorene met very briefly as kids.

y'know. pre-Nidhogg.

also pre-calamity so it's not... endless winter in Coerthas. Except it IS still Winter because it's like. Starlight season and it's the alps, so its kinda snowy. And being, y'know, shepherds, Estinien is accompanying his father to go, like, trade some wool in the North Shroud and its probably the first time he's gone because he's like 11-12 now and his father thinks he's old enough to start learning more about The Family Business.

so they're in Fallgourd Float, which is warmer but still kinda snowy because again, foothills of the alps in winter - and they're essentially peddling their wares to folk who don't want to travel all the way into Coerthas for the kind of good quality wool that area has. And it goes pretty well and they make what's considered a decent amount of Gil for a market day and so they plan to stay the night at the town's inn and go back home in the morning.

and just outside the inn there's a cart with a small... not quite crowd gathered around it. And sitting on the back of the cart are two au ra, playing instruments for the handful of people amassed.

which, you know, is kinda fucking rare. rare in Gridania and very rare in Coerthas. and like, rural shepherds boy Estinien has definitely never seen one and only kinda heard of them, and he kinda looks to his dad for 'how do we react to this' guidance.

and Estinien's dad isn't racist because I said so, because I refuse to play into rural and catholic must mean racist. So even though he, too, probably has actually never seen an au ra and definitely not a xaela au ra, he does know that they're not, y'know, dragon-adjacent and so he's just like 'huh. didn't think au ra came this far north'

so Estinien is like 'we're cool. got it.' and moves a little closer because, damn it, he is curious.

There's the au ri man with pale blue skin and white hair - and he's singing a Starlight carol that most people know (because Cimorene's dad was really good at picking up songs from every place they traveled; he also learned Starlight is popular in the Shroud and playing Starlight songs will get more people interested).

Beside him is a young girl that doesn't look like she could be any older than Estinien's baby brother. Her skin is a milky white, her dark mossy hair is braided back, showing off fin-like horns. She's playing a long stringed instrument that looks like its too big for her - but she clearly knows what she's doing. She's focused entirely on playing, unlike her father who is beaming at his audience, exuding warmth and friendliness. It's that, as much as his pleasant voice, that draws Estinien a few steps closer, fully into the amassed crowd.

Then the man picks up a small flute that had sat beside him and begins to play. On cue, the girl takes over singing the next verse.

Her voice is high and clear as a bell - so much so that it's hard for Estinein to fully wrap his mind around the idea that she's making the sound and not another instrument. It's pretty, yes, but almost unnerving. He thinks of folk stories his mom has told him, about sirens in the seas that lure sailors to their deaths. He kinda takes a step back and runs into his dad who has moved up to join him.

They linger until song ends and a couple people drop Gil in a basket the au ri man has gotten out. He thanks each person, even strikes up small conversations with a few who seem more inclined to speak to him. Meanwhile the girl tunes her lute-like instrument with single minded focus that makes her seem older; his brother certainly doesn’t have that attention span.

Estinien doesn’t realize that he’s staring until his father taps him on the shoulder, passing him a Gil.

“Go on; they gave us a show.”

The man is in the middle of a conversation with a miqo’te hunter that doesn’t look like it’s wrapping up anytime soon. Estinien shuffles in place awkwardly, before he finally gets too impatient and walks up to the girl.

“Here,” he says, holding the coin out to her.

She looks up at him, eyes wide. It’s the first time he’s really seen them; a bright yellow that seems to glow in the grey, early evening gloom. She doesn’t take the Gil. She doesn’t say anything.

Her father laughs, not unkindly. “Cimorene, the nice boy wants to give that to us.”

She hesitates a second longer then snatches it out of his hand and scrambles back into the cart, closer to her father.

“Come on, I know I’ve taught you better than that,” he says, shaking his head.

Her pale face darkens. “Thank you,” she mumbles.

Estinien just shrugs; he doesn’t like having this much attention on him. “Can we go inside now?” He asks his father.

It’s his turn to be laughed at. His father exchanges a look with Cimorene’s father that says ‘kids, am I right?’ before he says, “Yes all right. Thank you,” he adds again to the musicians.

“Thank you,” Cimorene’s father echoes. Cimorene is still tucked into his side but she gives them a small smile at last - and Estinien can admit she’s kinda cute (the way adults call his little brother cute; the way newborn lambs are cute).

The au ri musicians are gone in the morning. Ferndale is gone a month later.

Both children forget the encounter entirely.

[arrowflier]

hi arrow! for your speedwriting, if you vibe with the prompt: gallavich go to fright fest together for the first time 👻 (them experiencing the decorations/scary street actors specifically would be amazing i think)

Thank you Ray!

"So?" Ian asks, walking backward with arms spread wide to either side. "What do you think?"

"I think it was crazy to spend sixty bucks a pop is what I think," Mickey retorts. "What's wrong with sneakin' in?"

Ian's arms drop, and though he would refuse to admit it, he pouts.

"If I hadn't gone through the line for tickets," he says, "I wouldn't have been able to tell the ticketer that it was my husband's first time here." He raises a brow, and adds, "and she wouldn't have comped that fast-pass upgrade."

Mickey's ears feel warm, the way they always do when Ian flaunts their still-new titles.

"I guess the decorations are cool," he gives in, and the beam Ian graces him with is worth it.

"Just wait 'til you try my favorite ride! It's across the park, but it's worth the walk!"

Ian is practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on his heels. Every time he bounces up, his head aligns with some creepy clown guy standing behind him, making it look like he's the one wearing the awful red wig.

Mickey chokes back a laugh, and gestures with one arm.

"Lead on.""

-

Ian wasn't lying--they really are crossing the entire damn park. They pass half a dozen rollercoasters, a haunted mansion, some ride where you get to shoot stuff with lasers--Mickey is definitely coming back to that one--all glowing an eerie reddish-orange against the darkening sky.

The crowds thin a little as they go, too, shifting from kids and parents to edgy teenagers and a handful of other couples. The noise dissipates as they leave the main area, and so do the lights. The actors are gone, and the regular attendants. They're just walking through a darkened theme park in the middle of the night, the pavement growing cold beneath them.

Somewhere behind them a child shrieks, and laughter follows. The echoes are tinged with a malice that makes Mickey's shoulders hunch under his jacket, makes him draw it tight against the night wind.

"Somebody's having fun," Ian comments, but Mickey isn't so sure.

There's more laughter. Closer this time, louder.

"Hurry up man," Mickey says, and picks up his own pace. "I wanna get there before dawn."

He wants to get somewhere, at least. Somewhere with lights again, and people. Where he doesn't hear his own footsteps echo and feel the need to look back over his shoulder as harsh laughter closes in behind him.

In his haste, though, he's only made it worse. Because the next corner they turn leads into a tall tunnel of metal and piled brush, and suddenly they're completely alone.

"So, uh, how much farther we going?" Mickey asks, and walks as close next to Ian as he can. There's not much light in the tunnel, just a few colored bulbs and the little moonlight that makes it through overhead, but he's close enough to feel Ian shrug.

"Think we're almost there."

Mickey stops.

"You think?" he asks. There's a weird feeling climbing up his back, up his neck. "Or you know?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure." Ian stops too, turns back to him. "Why? Something wrong?"

And no, nothing's wrong. But also, yes.

"Damn it Ian," he hisses, eyes closing as he runs a hand through his hair. "Can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Ian taps his shoulder, but Mickey shrugs it off.

"I thought we were gonna go on rides, maybe shoot somethin', scare a few kids," he goes on. "Not wander around in the dark, probably halfway out of the park, with no fucking clue where we are!"

"Mickey," Ian says quietly, and taps his shoulder again.

"Don't Mickey me!" His breath is coming fast, and he pinches the top of his nose. Breathes through his mouth instead. "I need to--"

One more tap on his shoulder, and he drops his hand, spins around and shoves.

"Mickey!" Ian shouts, and Mickey wants to push him again, needs to push past and out of this dead-end tunnel and out of this goddamned park and--

And Ian had said that from behind him. Which means...

Mickey opens his eyes, and stares in startled red. Red from colored contacts, which go with the kid's plastic fangs and black cape. Red that's surrounded on all sides by white, eyelids stretched in shock.

"Um," Mickey says, feeling both a lot more settled and a lot more embarrassed by how much the night had gotten to him. "Sorry?"

The kid just blinks at him. Behind, Ian laughs. And instead of echoing with malice, it lights up the tunnel like the sun.

“Sorry kid,” Mickey repeats. Ian is still laughing when he turns and takes his hand. “Shut up,” Mickey orders, swallowing the giggle that lightens his own chest, “and let’s go find your coaster.”

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

I am the fuck up please hold me - Gil Grissom self-comfort fic

(A/N: I wrote this while listening to In the End on loop. The state of my mental health is between me and my future/hypothetical therapist. Or at least, my closest friends.)

I stumbled into the house; would've fallen if I wasn't holding the doorknob. Immediately the surrounding of our familiar environment lifted a weight off my shoulders. As if the sudden withdrawal was physical, I fell back and the door shut with my body. It was late afternoon, but Gil had promised he would wait for me to return, because he knew I needed him.

Tired, body aching (to say nothing of my emotional hurt), I half-jogged, half-limped my way to where he was waiting for me in bed, lying in the cooling air, an arm beside his head. He was wearing his grey cotton t-shirt, the one he knew was my favourite and loved for him to wear especially when he was comforting me. And that meant he was wearing his black pyjama trousers that went with it. I could see in the way he was so slow to turn his head to look at me, and the drawness of his face, that he had been battling sleep for the past few hours whilst I was with my parents; I felt really bad, and really appreciated him for waiting.

I signed that I was sorry; that immediately made him frown, drawing him to alertness despite his sleepiness. "No. Come here," he said, directing his eyes to my currently empty side of the bed.

I sighed in equal parts weariness and pain, body protesting and screaming as I moved my arms to change my clothes. But once I changed into my own grey cotton t-shirt to match his and a pair of shorts, it was worth it; the softness enveloping my body seemed to counter some of the ache. I shuffled to my side of the bed. "Feeling more like myself again," I announced in a sheepish murmur as I slowly, painfully got under the blanket. Even though I naturally faced him when I got in, I turned away and lay with my back to him.

He frowned again, and slid up to me so that he could embrace me from behind. "Do you wanna talk?" I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, my mouth turning to a grimace as the tears I had been holding back began to leak out. He knew of my state because he felt my body tense; he petted my arm and nuzzled his face into my hair. "Let it out. It's okay. You're safe now." With his coaxing, I began to weep and wail and sob, my body shaking, which he soothed with gentle hugs, strokes and kisses where he could reach. I was loud; he remained calm, sturdy, present, my one anchor in the storm.

I cried for hours; I was in so much pain. All the while he held me, loved me, let me know he was there for me, he wasn't going anywhere. While it hurt, it felt better to know that I wasn't alone and had support, especially from him, the most important person in my life. Eventually, I cried myself out, and calmed down. At this point he turned me over so that I lay on him, sinking into him. He held me and kissed my hair. "I love you. I know you need to hear that. I love you." I let out a whimper; he stroked my head, and kissed it again. Now I held him tight, unable to let go. And of course he was happy for the embrace. Again he just let his quiet presence speak and let me know that he was there, unwavering in his devotion and care.

At long last, the tears stopped, every last drop of sadness having leaked out. I gave a tired groan and collapsed on him again. He caressed my head and face, kissing it to my sniffles. He pressed his lips to mine; this time I sighed in relief. His hand on my back coaxed me to lay back down and rest on him. He pulled his shirt collar down a little, asking a silent question; in answer, I put my hand up and ran my fingers through his thick, curly chest hair. I put my nose in it and sighed. He started to move to take off his shirt but I pressed on his chest to stop him and shook my head. I settled back down, and kissed his chest. I just played with his chest hair until I felt ready to sleep, and indicated as such so that he could release his hold of his collar. Snuggling up, and with one last kiss, mine to his chin, his to my head, we collapsed finally into deep cold engulfing darkness, which would be our domain we were most comfortable in when we woke.