#hes wearing a little sunhat

[xeemugghq]

hello to my three followers heres a wip im working on

just part of it BUT THESE GUYS MAKE ME UNBELIEVABLY JOYOUS

[mars-ipan]

it's pride month of course i'm going to push my transfem komaeda agenda

[litchi-tea]

*pops bottles* We won lads🍾🍾🎉, now all they need to do is drop swimsuit Ulquiorra, Aizen, Gin and Shinji so I can live peacefully

[dirt-str1der]

Front and back swimsuit kiryu

[jasnstilnski]

Im crying actually

[sinning-23]

Bikinis On Top (OPLA Bikini Headcannons)

Seeing their bbygrl in a bikini opla headcannons

THis gets a lil RISQUE soooo 18+

Hey youguys i know its been a while lol I've been s swamped with work and Enjoy this in honor of hot girl summer approaching lmao I promise I'm getting back into eh groove of writing!

alos pls excuse spelling errors yall know me lmao

Luffy

-It’s hot and his shirts are open 9 times out of 10 so

-He was a bit stunned to see you with one of Nami's bikini tops adorning your chest with a nice pair of jean shorts.

-Boobs boobs boobs boobs boobs

-He's really trying to act normal but you can always tell when those big brown eyes start shifting from your face to your chest. And he always has that goofy grin on his face

-Strongly believe he's the type to impulsively bite them. lmao like literally grab two handfuls and CHOMP.

-He always was more of a boobs guy.

Zoro

-"Where's the rest of your shirt."

-He’s got his eyes skillfully flickering from your chest to your eyes then to you collar bone and again.

-“You don’t like me showing them off?” You question, slipping past him with a smile

-the funny thing is, you’re not talking about your boobs. You’re talking about the bites and hickeys he skillfully placed along them

-crazy how near the end of the day, the only thing the crew can seem to find as a trace of you is the discarded bikini top

Sanji

-He helped you tie it this morning when the sun had first been shining to brightly into your room, heating both of you up.

-personally, Sanji likes it when you wear the full piece, the straps of your bottoms just barely peaking out from the low-rise jeans you've got on.

-He also is one to pull your strings when you're also so the top just falls down to reveal the girls

-Is the type to lift you up out of the pool and set you up to sit on the steps like the goddess you are and just admire.

Usopp

-matching swimsuit set matching swimsuit set matching swimsuit set

-He always likes seeing you in a nice brown or sage green two-piece.

-won't say anything but wow when he sees you and smiles.

-Keep it polite but just know his hugs from behind will always end with him pulling at your bottom straps and letting them snap against your skin.

"USOPP!" You yelp, narrowing your brows at him while you massage the spot.

"Ok ok, i'm sorry mommas" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the affected area, his large hands massaging the flesh of your thighs.

Nami

-Strictly a bikini gf and wifebeater+swim trunks gf duo lmao

-This can go either way actually. If she feels like a bikini kinda day it's gonna be a bright orange or a pure white with a sunhat and a nice flowy cover-up

-A she can't and won't make it easy for you to keep your hands off her,

-If YOU are in the bikini and she's in the swim trunks she REFUSES to keep her hands off you. She knows her girl looks good asf.

-Expect to have your ass smacked.

Shanks

-Is definitely keeping you on his lap while everyone else is splashing around. It was a pretty chill day and everyone decided hey why not go for a swim

"Can I please get in the water Shanks?" You sigh, pulling the strings of his swim trunks as he smiles and gives a quick "Nuh-uh"

-"Your ass looks too good. Just stay here a little longer hm?" he asks, squeezing your thighs, pressing kisses to your shoulder.

-He doesn't waste time taking you somewhere secluded to pull those bottoms to the side, somehow loving the way your ass looks in those bottoms every time he thrusts

Mihawk

-He personally likes it when you wear one of that cute pinup like 50's monokinis? And some wedges with a bandana. UGH he's gonna be right there with you avoiding the sun under the umbrella (that pale ass skin lmao)

-Will 100% lather you in sunscreen and just paper your shoulder with kisses.

-He's not taking you to eh pool he's taking you to the beach and you're just sitting together, enjoying one another company

-"I'm fucking you within an inch of your life after this." H admits in monotone, skin already starting to darken in a tan

-"Yes splendid." You reply still resting, enjoying the faint heat of the sun.

Buggy

-HAHAAAAAA this man will tear it off and then feel bad and get you another one...just to tear that off too

-is a sucker for the bikinis with anything on the boobs lmao he thinks they look like targets

-I like to think that ocean water is the only thing like that is an issue lmao so it is safe to say he's in the pool every summer, roughhousing with you and the rest of his crew

-I mean just a bunch of fucking kids lmao, macro polo, chicken fight, pretending to be a shark, you name it

-accidentally caused a nip slip tho and yelled for everyone to look away while shielding his girl.

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Summer With Them

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ׂׂૢ Y’all have no idea how much i hate summer i defrost from vampire to weird nerd -1000 aura points or whatever they’re saying on the clock app

Anyways i finished this while at the laundromat

Ghost

Prefers summer nights to summer days or evenings

Sits on the porch at night with you listening to the cicadas sing

And during this time you can’t take showers together bc he won’t let you adjust the temperature, he takes his showers ice cold

Don’t ask me where I get this from but he vibes with that one Type O Negative song bc according to him it gives “summer” (iykyk)

Prob has sun sensitivity

Cannot leave the house without his sunglasses

And he avoids driving when the sun’s too bright

Soap

Bastard who enjoys summer #1

He likes summer because it means going down to the beach and showing off his muscles that stay clothed under uniform throughout the year

Wants to buy swimming trunks that’ll match your swimwear

He likes joining teens in volleyball and flying kites with kids

Loves going on walks on the beach at dawn and dusk

He once gave you a bad scare when making you think the dolphin fin in the water was a shark

Even if you’re at home he’ll drag you out of bed to join his morning walk and evening walks after dinner

Gaz

He’s content with summer

Will come up with tons of things to do

Picnics he prepares every weekend

Cloud watching

Catching fireflies in a jar and setting them free all at once to see them glow

Running his fingers through your hair as the breeze blows

Making lemonade together to stay cool outside

Buys a vintage camera to take lots of pics of you

On every evening walk you take together he picks something small like a leaf or flower and saves it

At the end of the season he gets everything together and creates a page in his scrapbook

Alejandro

Bastard who enjoys summer #2

He likes the feel of summer breeze on his bare skin and you look forward to seeing that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Likes to sleep with the windows open at night

Blasts music

Carne asadas

Frequents the local ice cream shops to buy mangonadas

Throughout the entire summer your kitchen has fruits of all kind that he eats with tajin

Will take you for a drive around in his truck and then find a quiet little spot like a lake or mountain to park and sit on the truck bed watching the sky

Phillip Graves

Sits outside with sunglasses on and beer in hand

Calls for you to come out and sit with him to watch the sunset

Cookouts

Anytime you complain of the heat you better hope he’s not around to yap your ear off about some anecdote from when he was a child

“It’s hot” “Ain’t that hot” he responds whilst his face is sunburned bc he refuses to wear sunscreen

Will only wear sunscreen if you are able to catch him before he goes outside and apply it for him

Keegan

It seems like summer evenings are the perfect time to do stuff

For some reason likes to do things shirtless in summer: yard/garden work, mowing the lawn, washing the car..

You set up a chair on the porch to watch him

Falling asleep on a soft patch of grass under the shade of a tree

Will start a bonfire and sit around it with you for hours into the late hours of the night

Sometimes you’ll stay out so late with him that both of you fall asleep

König

He’s not fond of summer

Would prefer to stay inside but if you want to he’ll go out as well

Sprawls on the floor with the fan on

He’ll drive where you want to go and then sit in the car watching you

Prob keeps ice packs in a cooler to keep cool when going outside for a long time

He’d rather be outside when the sun starts to set and the sky turns orange

Sets up a hammock

Afternoon naps on the hammock with the gentle sway of the wind

Horangi

He likes summer and prepares for it

Just imagine him getting out a little backpack with a sunhat, sunglasses, sunscreen, water bottle, umbrella, cooling sleeves, etc…

That’s not for him tho that’s for you he puts on sunglasses and is good to go

During summer he loves going to markets and buying fruit bc that’s when it’s best

Lots of strawberries, grapes and tangerines

Constantly reminds you to wear sun protection

He likes being outside a lot actually and will take you to his favorite parks and places to hike

Nikto

The change of seasons does not affect him much

He’ll notice the change of weather one day and mention how much warmer it is

“It’s summer” “Oh, we should go camping soon…”

He’ll take you camping whether you like it or not insisting that you will like it

Sets a tent near the river to catch fish

He also likes to plant vegetables during the nice weather and bring them to you, proudly showing off his hard work rewarded

He likes to cook meals together and eat outside

[egg-but-with-style]

Okay..what if..ghost was a knight. hm?????????

He'd been told he was going to become a knight since birth, serving the country as a whole, then if he was good enough, the nobility. When his training begun, he hated the idea of being the knight of any old noble that thought people poorer then them were the dirt beneath their boot.

He eventually became hardened by years of training and fighting, not to mention the occasional shipping out to a random village where he had killed more then a few men.

Then one day it was decided that the princess needed a personal knight, for a young lady needed to be well protected. At first he scoffed at the idea. A princess? One that stayed in castle walls like a caged bird? Why did she need protection?

When the day he was supposed to meet you came around, he quickly learned it wasn't for your safety per say, more so to curb your stubbornness. He couldn't deny the portraits of you in the hall with your family made his checks slightly flush. A beautiful round face and plump body. The redness wore off once he found out that, you had refused to come to the meeting to be assigned your guard, which he chocked up to the pretty princess not wanting to talk with a common like himself.

Until as he was getting a tour of the ground for security purposes, he saw a woman gardening. The woman was wearing a much nicer dress then he expected for a gardener. The woman was also quite a bit taller, chubbier, stronger. That's one thing he did like about noble women, their plump forms, but it was unusual for a worker. Maybe she was just a very good gardener. The woman quickly took notice of him and with a hop in her step, went up to greet him. She looked strangely...familiar?

"You're the new knight, yes?" He looked a little surprised, not expecting this person to be so talkative, but he was polite. "Yes..I am. Would you have any idea where the princess might be?" You giggled, taking off your sunhat and wiping your forehead with your sleeve. "You're looking at her."

He was stunned, he hadn't been paying too much attention to you before, but now that he was, the portraits on the walls of the castle matched you perfectly, yet they couldn't capture your beautiful round cheeks and a gorgeous smile as well as the real thing. He then snapped out of his thoughts and kneeled before you. Hearing you scoff at his actions. "You know you don't need to do that, right? Your little tour guide isn't even here anymore, not that he would've shown you around better then I can."

Ghost looked up and around. It's true, he was alone, with you he supposed. He then looked to your face, it being the only shade on his eyes from the blinding sun, making you look like you had a halo around your head. An angel. That's what you looked like.

"Cmon, get up." You said, as you stretched out your hand to help him up. He looked surprised, but grateful, his job was hard on his knees. Taking your hand once he was sure no one else was around, he wasn't sure if you'd be strong enough to help all that much, but you pulled him up with ease. "Now what's your name, oh noble knight?" The words falling from your lips, with a slight sarcasm imbedded. But not filled with ill will. "Ghost, my lady" your smirk fell slightly, and you sighed. You knew it couldn't be helped, honorifics were basically beat into every guard and maid.

"That's an odd name. I don't believe you're a spector."

You giggled, and he became surprised the longer you talked, so sasy, so informal. Felt more like talking to a fellow guard then the to be leader of the country. He stammered again, being put off guard (hahaha, get it?) "It's.. it's a given name by the knights guild."

You hummed in acknowledgement. You had heard of some guards only ever using their given names, but you had never seen it with your own eyes.

"Interesting. Well, I suppose you need a new tour guide, don't you?" He thought about it for a moment, perhaps, from a tactical standpoint, a person who lives in the castle, especially someone as rambunctious as you, would probably know more then the average persons about the castle. So for safety reasons, or maybe it was just him justifying a reason to get to know you better, he agreed.

"I suppose I do." You were still glistening with sweat from the heat of the sun, and the exertion of pulling weeds in a rather tight corset. Skin being smeared with splotches of dirt. He was feeling bold, and asked a question that any other noble would've had slapped him for. "You're quite the trouble maker, aren't you, my lady?" You only giggled

"You bet your shiny ass I am. Now cmon, there's like 20 different places that old fart hadn't show you yet." He only had moments to question your vulgar choice of words, then you were off, walking, almost jogging down the cobble path, with his heart in hand. So he could only follow.

Authors note: you know how I said I had ideas about the 141? Ghost consumed those thoughts. Eat up, babes. Again I don't know who made the knight au for ghost? If anyone knows, please tell me so I can tag them for credit. Cause this idea is so yummy. Thank you for reading, bye bye!!!!

[wordingg]

Proud Parents

Dead Boy Ween Day 5, prompt: family

Summary: Crystal is insistent that she doesn't need the dead boys to attend her graduation ceremony. But, Charles and Edwin would never let Crystal go alone.

AN: I got like halfway through this one and realized that schools in the UK probably don't have graduation ceremonies the same way American schools. They might not even have graduation ceremonies at all. BUT I HAVEN'T MISSED A DAY YET AND IM NOT GONNA START NOW SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF. okay thanks.

“You guys can’t come to my graduation, okay?” Crystal said firmly.

It was a little hard to take her seriously when she was standing in a veritable ocean of clothes and shaking what looked like a very fancy sunhat at them, but her expression was very serious.

“My parents are going to be there and I don’t want any weird ghost shit going on, okay?” Crystal added. She threw them an exasperated look when both boys just stared at her with folded arms.

“They said they’re going to be there?” Charles asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They gave a very firm maybe, which is practically a yes for them,” Crystal snapped back.

Charles frowned at that, but Edwin spoke over whatever he was planning to say.

“Of course, if you don’t want us to attend your graduation ceremony, we will respect your wishes,” Edwin said benevolently.

“Thank you, Edwin,” Crystal said, with a pointed look at Charles.

“You’re quite welcome, Crystal,” Edwin said with a polite nod.

Crystal disappeared back into her walk in closet to continue to dig for something good enough to wear under her graduation gown. Charles turned to Edwin with a confused frown.

“There’s no way her parents are going to show up for graduation, is there?” he asked sincerely.

“Not a chance,” Edwin said, still watching the closet door. “I checked their calendar and they’ve already booked two interviews and something called an ‘experimental banjo sesh’ for the same time as the ceremony.”

“God, what arseholes,” Charles muttered. “Crystal deserves better.”

“Of course she does,” Edwin said with an arched brow. “That is why we will be better for her.”

Charles’ mouth stretched into a manic grin and Edwin’s own mouth twitched at the edges with infectious glee.

---

The day of her graduation, Crystal was sweating with nerves. She had opted to finish her degree online when her attempts to make up with many of the people in her class that she had wronged had gone badly, to say the least. It was the first time in months that she was in the same room with them. It was a big gymnasium, but it was hard not to notice all the venomous looks pointed her way from almost every corner.

Crystal wiped her palms on the fabric of her gown, but the artificial fabric did nothing to wick the moisture away from her skin. She wanted to touch her cap to make sure it was sitting straight, but was worried about knocking her elaborate hairstyle down. She had gotten up early to arrange her curls into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. It had been a bigger challenge than she expected and as a result her hair was mostly held together by two dozen bobby pins and sheer determination.

Crystal’s parents had already been gone by the time she was ready to leave for the ceremony, but she tried not to let that get her down. She had just talked to them the night before and they had confirmed their definite maybe for her graduation. She just had to have faith. They probably were picking up flowers or a cake or something. They knew Crystal was very self sufficient and could call her own cab to take her to the school.

Finally it was time to line up and walk out onto the field. Luckily, Crystal ended up in line between two boys that she didn’t recognize and who didn’t seem all that interested in her. They walked out of the gymnasium and into the bright spring day outside. Crystal was briefly blinded, but as soon as her eyes cleared she looked out into the crowd for her parents.

The field outside the gym was absolutely packed with people. There were rows and rows of folding chairs set up for the students graduating. The line steadily filled the rows in, directed by teachers in suits and skirts. Around the folding chairs were metal bleachers packed with adults and other kids alike, everyone snapping photos and waving and shouting things as the students filing into the chairs occasionally picked someone out of the crowd and waved back.

She didn’t see her parents as she walked out, but it was a madhouse. Probably they were there and she just didn’t see them. That was fine. Crystal turned around during a speech started to try and look again and got hissed at by one of the teachers, so she turned back around and pretended to pay attention.

The speeches washed over her like so much noise. She couldn’t have recalled anything that was said even if her life depended on it. Her mind was on the crowd at her back and her parents, the anxiety of not knowing crawling up her throat and threatening to choke her.

Then, finally, they started calling names and it was time to walk across the stage and claim her diploma. The school had considered ‘Von Hoverkraft’ to be her last name, so she had to wait until almost every other kid had gone before she could stand up and walk across the small pop up stage to shake the hand of a sweaty middle aged man she didn’t recognize and take her diploma.

As she did so, a camera flashed from the crowd, loud and bright and briefly blinding her. Crystal felt tears pricking her eyes and it wasn’t just from the bright flash. Someone was taking her picture and she couldn’t help but hope it was her dad, memorializing her finally finishing high school, finally becoming an adult.

Her smile turning sincere for the first time that day, Crystal walked to the other side of the stage and back to her seat feeling breathless. They were here somewhere in the crowd. They had come. They had shown up for her.

A few more kids went up to get their diploma and there was one last short speech. Everyone was itching for the ceremony to be over, so the speech didn’t last for very long. Soon, the ceremony was over and the two crowds (students and families) rushed toward each other, students merging into the bleachers while parents and siblings ran into the lines of folding chairs.

Crystal stood up, but then she froze. She was short in her sensible flats and couldn’t see over the heads of the crowd to find her parents. She started to move toward the bleachers, but it was a wild press of people and she felt a surge of panic that she wouldn’t be able to find them in time, that the crowds would deter them and her parents would leave without her seeing them.

Halfway to the bleachers, Crystal felt a man’s hand on her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. Crystal whipped around, not sure if she should be ecstatic or vicious, and looked into a familiar face. Familiar, but not the one she was hoping for.

An older man, maybe in his fifties, with red hair almost completely turned white and distinguished rimless glasses was smiling down at her. It was Charles in his living person disguise.

“Crystal, this way!” he said over the low roar of the crowd, guiding her away from the bleachers and through them toward the parking lot.

Briefly, Crystal felt irritated. She had told them not to come. But, she couldn’t hold onto her frustration for very long. She was scared and upset and hopeful by equal measures and Charles’ presence was a comforting. She eventually shook his hand off her arm so that she could instead grab his hand in hers and he smiled down at her again.

Charles led her out of the crowd and around to the back of the metal bleachers, where Crystal saw a woman in big acrylic frames wearing a little maroon beret over blonde hair peppered with white. Edwin.

“I told you guys I didn’t want you here,” Crystal muttered. “I have to get back. My parents might leave if they can’t find me.”

Charles and Edwin exchanged a speaking look and Crystal’s stomach dropped.

“We weren’t going to come,” Charles started to say. Crystal realized suddenly that he was wearing a big old fashioned camera around his neck by a strap. She swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“But, we also weren’t about to leave you here alone if they didn’t come,” Edwin said quickly.

Crystal felt her eyes filling with tears and firmly told herself not to blink. If she blinked, they would fall and if they started to fall, they might never stop.

She looked at Edwin. Edwin would tell her the truth, even if it hurt. She could trust him to do that for her.

“I’m sorry, Crystal,” he said quietly. “I followed them all morning. We only came once we were sure they were not going to make it to your graduation ceremony.”

It didn’t matter that Crystal hadn’t blinked, the tears began to fall anyway. She dashed them away viciously but they just kept falling.

“God, you must think I’m so naive,” she laughed. “You must have wanted so bad to tell me how stupid I was being. So, go ahead. Say it,” she glared at Edwin, but he only stared evenly back. “Say I was stupid for believing in them! You would be right!” she cried.

“Crystal Palace, you are the farthest thing from stupid,” Edwin said, like it was the most factual thing in the world.

“You’re a good daughter,” Charles said gently, “and you love your parents. That’s not a fault, Crystal. It’s admirable that you keep trying.”

The tears were coming faster now and Crystal gave up on trying to preserve her mascara and eyeliner and instead rubbed at her eyes, probably smearing black makeup everywhere.

“Eds! The flowers!” Charles whispered while Crystal tried desperately to get her tears under control.

She heard rustling and then when she opened her eyes it was to a huge bouquet of lilies, big pink ones with little brown spots exploding out from yellow centers, filled in all around with delicate baby’s breath.

“You got me flowers?” Crystal wobbled, fresh tears threatening to fall.

“And a balloon, but I sort of forgot those things float and it got away from me,” Charles said with a hangdog expression.

Edwin sighed at the mention of the balloon, but shook it off quickly. He stepped in to run his thumbs delicately under Crystal’s eyes, clearing away the smudged makeup along with a few stray tears.

“And, we will be taking you to that awful raw fish buffet that you like,” Edwin said as he cleaned up her makeup here and there.

“It’s called sushi, I know you know that. And, I don’t think they’ll let you come in if you aren’t going to eat anything,” Crystal sniffed.

“I dare say you will eat enough raw fish for the rest of us,” Edwin said, dry as the Sahara desert.

“And, we’ll tell everyone within hearing distance how proud we are of our amazing daughter who just graduated from high school!” Charles added with a grin.

“Yes, she’s quite amazing,” Edwin said, stepping back and judging Crystal’s makeup good enough so long as she didn’t start crying again. “Neither of us ever finished high school. She’s the first in our family to do so.”

“We’re proud parents, we are,” Charles said, elbowing Edwin with a grin that earned him an eye roll and a reluctant smile.

“You guys…” Crystal trailed off, sniffing. She clutched the flowers closer to her chest, the paper crinkling against her graduation gown. Golden pollen smeared against the cheap polyester and stuck to it, but she couldn’t possibly bring herself to care at the moment.

“Please, Crystal, no more tears. I just fixed your mascara,” Edwin complained, stepping in again to fan at her face with his hands like maybe he could dry the tears before they fell.

Crystal hiccuped around a sound that might have been a sob or a laugh, even she wasn’t sure. She threw her arms around both of their necks, drawing Charles and Edwin into a group hug. The bracketed her sides and the flowers crinkled against their backs. She felt their arms settle around her waist, their heads tilted against her own.

“Thanks, you guys,” she said thickly.

“Of course, Crystal,” Edwin whispered back.

“Anytime,” Charles agreed.

[marshmallowprotection]

Alright, anyone have any silly headcanons they want to share? I think that we all need a little moment to breathe and focus on taking care of ourselves. So, I'll start with one, you guys tell me yours!

I think Saeran has an assortment of gardening hats and aprons that are goofy-looking. He likes wearing them, though, because they get you to laugh with him. Sometimes, he puts on his sunhat that sort of resembles a duck because he wants to sit at the pond to enjoy some time watching them, and other times, his apron is covered in a never-ending Longcat spiral all thanks to his brother who thought that was a great gift idea.

If you ask me, his favorite apron is the one you bought him, though. So, the idea of what that might be changes depending on who you are. If it was me, though, I would've gotten him an apron covered with some cloud patterns. Major props to the MC who would give him a meme-themed apron, however!

[tojivu]

would u do satoru who actually has six eyes with the reader scenario? it could be anything, like the reader going through his baby pictures and cooing at how cute he looked with one set of eyes open, but the other two werent. or comforting him cuz people think they're freaky. anything fluffy :D

# SIX ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note stop this is so cute.. i changed the prompt a bit i hope u don’t mind. hope this isn’t too long for your taste as well zzz

✰ — cw / tags satoru with literally six eyes , sfw , gn!reader , use of pet names ‘baby’ etc , briefly proof read ( i tried )

✰ — playing n side by steve lacy.

✰ — word count 1.2k

✰ — part two click here.

it was a lazy sunday morning when you decide to wake up early. it was unusual of you, because you usually woke up later than your boyfriend—but you remembered the state of your shared apartment and knew something had to be done.

it was a mess. a complete and utter disarray.

moving in week was finally done, at least technically. some of your stuff was still in cardboard boxes. you knew gojo had some unpacking to do as well, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to help him—you knew about the long hours he endured.

you’re still groggy when you make your way down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support. you rub your eyes until the sunlight doesn’t hurt anymore—but you glance into your living room and see the piles of tiny boxes, full of trinkets from your previous house and it hurts your eyes all the same.

you yawn and sit yourself down on the couch, scissors in hand and ready to take on the workload. you meticulously cut the tape sealing a particularly damaged cardboard box, deciding you would eliminate the smaller stuff first; gojo would wake up sooner or later and you certainly weren’t going to carry the bigger boxes by yourself.

you turn the flaps over and the sunlight spilling in through the living room windows help visualise how dusty it really is—you don’t think it’s yours. the box must’ve not been opened for quite some time.

it’s a photo frame you find in the box, but there’s way too much dust for you to really see anything. you bring the frame to the kitchen, grabbing a wet rag and wiping the plastic film to the best of your ability. you think this must have been hidden from you on purpose, you’ve never seen this photo in your life—no picture of satoru escapes you, after all. he must’ve not wanted you to see it.

it’s your boyfriend as a child, at a strawberry farm. he’s wearing a sunhat and a basket of berries are being shown off to the camera; his smile undoubtedly huge, and his eyes are glistening in the sunlight the hat failed to deter—all six of them.

you’re wondering why he ever ought to hide this photo from you. you knew about his eyes, and you’ve made it clear that you loved them. though, you can’t really speculate—gojo’s told you briefly about his childhood, but not really in detail. “i didn’t really like showing them when i was young,” was all you got out of him when you asked about his middle school days.

you’re startled when you hear a yawn coming from the stairs, and you shift your gaze from the photo to gojo—adult sized gojo with only one pair of eyes open—who’s making his way towards you. quick reaction time enables you to hide the photo behind you, just as gojo enters the kitchen.

“good morning baby,” he says while rubbing his eyes. he plants a kiss on your forehead, then blinking slowly at you in an attempt to wake himself up completely. “what’re you doing up? it’s 8 a.m.”

you scoff at him, jokingly. “what, am i not allowed to wake up at 8 a.m?”

gojo lets out a chuckle, his voice still raspy. “didn’t say that.”

you smile up at your boyfriend, who’s eyes are still not fully open yet. the slits on his cheek and forehead from his other two pairs of eyes further intrigue you—perhaps, if you dig a little more… would you be able to find photos just like that one?

you feel sneaky, looking through your boyfriend’s things without his permission. of course, you couldn’t help yourself—how could you? his smile looks priceless.

and so, something in you is determined to find every single one.

your mental scheming is stopped, though, when gojo makes a loud gasping noise. you’re snapped back into reality, and you realise he can see the photo frame you’ve hidden behind your back. “y/n!”

gojo is fully awake now, his expression a mix of shock and embarrassment. “how did you find that? i swear i put all those boxes away in my office. . .”

you point a finger at him, accusingly, with your eyebrows furrowed for dramatic effect. feeling offended, you gasp as well. “so you did try to hide them from me!”

he lets a laugh slip through his lips, much too flustered that this is how you discover his childhood photos. he shakes his head, “i’m sorry, y/n. didn’t think it would matter much.”

“why did you hide them? is it because of your eyes?”

gojo nods his head, taking a closer look at his younger self. “they were a bit weird for a six year old to have, no?”

you gasp again, hurt by his statement. the first thought you had when you found the photo was how adorable his eyes were, the different tints of blue shining in the sun—and the missing teeth which were shown so proudly in his smile. how happy he must’ve been to smile like that.

“i love them, ‘toru.”

it was always heartening to hear that coming from you.

when gojo satoru first met you, he was unsure if you’d be weirded out—like how everyone else was when he was younger. he’d learned how to keep the pairs on his forehead and cheeks closed in his teenage years, so it was muscle memory by the time he knew you.

the first time you saw them was a few years ago, an unremarkable tuesday morning: at least that's what you thought, but to satoru—it was everything.

you awaken next to him, and gojo's perplexed. why you were staring at his face so intently? was his bed hair that bad?

“i didn’t know you could open all of them.”

gojo internally cursed himself, thinking it was game over—you’d probably tell him you’ve got to go and never call him back; but you did.

you called him and told him you missed him the following day. that sweet voice of yours he was so relieved to hear.

as a child, people would often call gojo strange looking—his piercing blue eyes already made him intimidating. people would barely look at him; so when there were six of them, it was even harder to make conversation. you guessed a long time ago that that was why he started wearing shades.

people could never look at him directly, but with you—it was a different problem altogether. you just couldn’t stop looking, always telling him how pretty his eyes were. he would find it hard to believe with the way he’d grown up, but it’s undeniable he feels comfortable showing it to you; sometimes feeling all right to go out without his sunglasses on.

“yeah, i know.” gojo’s smile is soft. he leans down and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his jaw on your shoulder and swaying you left to right. “you tell me that all the time.”

it’s cheesy sunday mornings like this you look forward to.

it’s been an hour since you’ve woken up and gojo insisted on helping you finish cleaning—it’s pointless, though: because you two end up on the couch, looking at childhood photos of yourselves—with the occasional embarrassing story time.

at the end of the day, nothing is clean and you two are still on the couch: except gojo is snoring and you’re on top of him with your face buried in his chest, trying to fall asleep despite the inconsiderate noise—photo albums sprawled out on the coffee table.

211023 — this is so bad i’m sorry… TT

[haikyu-mp4]

Beach, please

word count; 634 – f!ChubbyReader, this is for @ennoshitas-princess for @cottonlemonade's summer event, fluffy beach day with husband Ennoshita

Going to the beach could be a tiring ordeal, but you haven’t known the trials of a beach day since back when you and your husband were just boyfriend and girlfriend. That’s because Ennoshita always came prepared.

You looked around in your cute bikini, one hand holding the brim of your sunhat while the other held the beach bag off the sand.

Meanwhile, Ennoshita efficiently put up the dedicated parasol and then rolled out the blanket, pinning each corner down. Not a trace of sand spilling on top of it. He got up for a second to admire his work before coming over, kissing your cheek and taking the bag, moving on to taking out the snacks and little cooling bag. “There you go, love.”

It was all so perfect, nothing could ruin a beach day with your husband.

Except maybe his high school friends.

You both sat down, double-checking your sunscreen layers before laying back, your head resting in his lap while he leaned on his elbows and observed passer-byers.

“What a great spot!”

“Ennoshita always gets the best spot.”

“What snacks did you get?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you lifted your head, looking to the side where Nishinoya, Tanaka, Narita and Kinoshita had put another blanket overlapping yours, dragging some sand over in the process. “Why are you guys here?” Ennoshita yelled, making them all turn to him in surprise.

“You said today was beach day,” Nishinoya said as if it was obvious from there.

“Yes, with my wife.” His words were just sharp enough for you to sit up, sighing and handing him a water bottle to cool off.

“That’s okay, we can all have a relaxing day at the beach together!” you said positively. However, there was no mistaking the look in Ennoshita’s eyes. He did not agree.

And he was right.

Ennoshita tried to focus on you, he really did. At first, he was relieved someone could watch your stuff while the two of you took a long dip in the ocean, and Ennoshita couldn’t have been happier than watching you enjoy the beach even though you were wearing little to nothing. He had been there with you through learning to love yourself and loved you every step of the way.

“You’re so gorgeous, your husband is very lucky,” he cooed, sneaking his hands around you so you’d come close enough for a kiss.

“I’m the lucky one, he’s just a hopeless romantic.”

It almost made him forget about his friends until you returned to your spot and saw they had eaten up all your snacks.

Later, there was the terrifying exclamation Hey, I brought a volleyball! Even though playing got them to move away, Nishinoya had dived into the sand so much that when he came back asking for a water bottle, he carelessly dripped sand all over the two of you. Ennoshita wouldn’t have minded it so much if he didn’t know you hated having sand stuck everywhere if you could avoid it.

Finally, he had enough when the lot of them begged him to join their rally, even though they should have been perfectly fine with a two on two. You watched with pursed lips as it finally boiled over.

“Can you guys leave us alone?!” The ball dropped onto the sand with a soft sound and they were all blinking at him like sheep. “I am trying to enjoy the day with my beautiful wife before our joint vacation ends, and you guys were not part of that plan!”

One by one they pouted, kicking the sand like little boys and murmuring apologies under their breaths. “Sorry, Chikara. Sorry, Mrs. Ennoshita.”

“Don’t worry,” you assured them, laying a chubby hand on your husband’s shoulder and tilting your head cutely. “I’m having a very nice day.”

masterlist

[livwritesstuff]

Oh!! Follow up to the last one, what’s the most memorable vacation story for each of the family members? Or do they all collectively share one? Also hi! It’s been a min!! You’re doing great!!!

<3 <3 <3

I feel like Eddie’s favorite memories from vacations are from when the girls are little – like, babies little.

He remembers the first time they brought Moe to the beach. She had just passed the ten-month mark, and planning their trip to Maine was one of the first things they’d done when her adoption was finalized a few weeks earlier.

Their first morning in Maine, they woke up early and made the trek down to the little beach nearby. The sky was still hazy, the sand smooth and unmarred from the night’s high tide. Eddie remembers that Moe was dressed in an adorable yellow swimsuit and Steve had valiantly stuck a pink sunhat on her head even though she was pretty much guaranteed to yank it off as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and he remembers that Steve had walked with Moe down to the water, pointing out the seagulls and the shells and the lighthouse all the way down the coastline barely visible through the early morning ocean mist.

Steve put her down right at the edge of the tide, and she’s not quite walking yet so Steve’s still got his hands under her arms as he crouched down to watch Moe's reactions to the waves rolling in. She tried to pick her little feet up above the water at first, but after a moment or two she was squishing her toes in the sand and looking out onto the water with her face looking all inquisitive.

After a couple moments, Steve looked up at Eddie with a soft smile on his face and Eddie’s heart gave a panging throb in the best way because, fuck, his entire world rests within these two people, and he's so damn grateful that he gets to spend his life with Steve, watching their daughter explore the world.

He has that same kind of moment only a few years later with Robbie (who had goddamn hated the beach and there's a special delight in that kind of baby-indignation, as Eddie now knows) and again a few years after that with Hazel.

For Steve, his favorite vacation moments are the opposite – from the later years, when the girls are older, because he’d loved raising babies but the most exciting part of parenthood to him was watching the people his daughters were becoming.

They were hiking a fairly easy trail in Yosemite (because neither Steve nor Eddie’s knees could handle the tougher ones anymore, and even if they wanted to try, Robbie and Hazel’s whining would make it not worth the effort). The girls are a good few paces ahead of them, Hazel and Moe walking hand-in-hand while Robbie argues with them over what kind of bird they’d heard calling a few hundred yards behind them. They’re wearing swimsuits and shorts because Moe swears they’re gonna pass a lake at some point during their hike, and Robbie's got her old Converse on despite the entire family telling her she’d regret it immediately (and Steve’s pretty sure she does regret it at this point, even if she’s not letting on).

Steve didn’t know it, but he was having the same revelation that Eddie’d had seventeen years earlier – disbelief, in a way, at how wonderful his life is and how the vague notion of family that he'd had in his brain at eighteen years old is the life he's actually living now.

[passivenovember]

This just fell out of me, team. I hope you enjoy it!

--

Steve’s wearing a sunhat.

Billy spots it on his tromp down the front steps, a nondescript canvas bag balled and clutched in one hand like wilted butcher’s paper, and thinks it could be a dinner plate on top of Harrington’s quaff. A trick of the early morning light slotting an obvious hole in the world.

It’s a sunhat, though.

The bag crinkles in Billy’s fist. Its folds and edges could draw blood. He tugs Steve’s passenger door open with his free hand and settles into the cab. Catches his breath. Says, “Why are you dressed like that?” When Steve only stares at him.

“We’re going to the Farmer’s Market,” Steve says. “It’s a special occasion.” 

They go to the Farmer’s Market every weekend, Billy doesn’t say. Since March, stretching all the way to last summer; off and on while Billy settled into it like a drowned cat, Steve eventually snapping, “We can do this,” Hands on his hips. Jars of pickled vegetables fresh from his little tote bag, glittering on Billy’s kitchen counter. “We can have this.”

“Non FDA regulated vegetables?” Billy had asked, grinning when Steve flushed, turning to dump Billy’s half of the loot into the refrigerator. 

Billy never asked what ‘this,’ meant. What they could have. Thinks he has a decent idea.

“You didn’t need to put a fuckin’ hat on,” Billy says now. Didn’t need to wear that hat. Particularly. 

He’s cute, though. Younger, where its wide, formless brim hides the salt and pepper that’s been slinking up Steve’s temples for the last couple of years, reminding Billy of the decades that rest like rain slickers on their backs. Floppy hats on their heads.

“It’s supposed to be in the low hundreds today.”

“It’s seven-thirty, pretty boy.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Steve says. He throws the car into reverse, but really it’s more a gentle nudge of the gear-shift until the car rolls with gravity into the street. Harrington always driving like a fifty year old man long before he was one. “I read an article that sunscreen isn’t enough anymore,” Steve says bluntly.

“Isn’t enough to what? Keep you celibate?” Billy digs around in his jeans pocket for his cigarettes. The white lighter that Steve had had an aneurysm over when he first saw it.

“No, to stop skin cancer. These days, how the Baby Boomers fucked up the Ozone, you’ve gotta wear sleeves, and sunscreen, and sunglasses, and fuckin’, sunhats,” Steve yanks the lighter out of Billy’s hand before he can spark up. Ignores the punch Billy lands on the one that came, fresh from 1993, with the car. 

America used to be a country. Smoking used to be good for you. 

Steve shoots him a side-ways glance, as if reading his mind. “You’re gonna kick rocks at sixty, Bill. Way you smoke.”

“They don’t make sun hats for lungs yet,” Billy says. The car lighter pops free so he snags it, waiting patiently for the hot-plate coil to catch his cig. When it does, he puts it back. Inhales slowly, peering out the window as the early morning shoots by at 30 miles per hour, a dying star.

He can feel Steve watching him. Now. Always.

“You could stop,” Steve says softly. “Smoking. You’re still young.”

Billy snorts. “Yeah, and you could mind your business.”

“Fuck you, you are my business.”

Billy’s stomach flips. He’s surprised, still, that his guts aren’t knotted and non-functional after all this time. Decades of friendship; career changes and new houses, new wives that slip steadily into ex wives. Kids. One kid. Billy’s. Decades of Steve, worrying about Billy’s diet and nagging at his bad habits, and. Saying shit like that. Flipping Billy’s stomach over on itself.

Billy puffs on his cigarette, rolling his eyes when Steve coughs dramatically into one elbow. He blows a huge cloud, just to be an asshole.

“Dude,” Steve says, leaning away so the car jerks suddenly to the left. 

Billy yelps, jostling against his seatbelt, “Harrington, you’re driving.”

“This is your lungs on nicotine,” Steve says, “A shitty old car driven by a lunatic middle-aged divorcee. Out of control. Veering into a ditch, or–”

“--It’s just a goddamn cigarette–”

“--With every pack you’re killing babies,” Steve tells him. The next streetlight turns gold. Steve runs it. 

Billy hangs on. His heart thumps with every twist and turn of the road. Hawkins races by, a blur of neon green oak trees and dark, supple earth. The grass is burned away in some places. Steve’s ancient car groans in the rising heat, its tires buff their tread against hot pavement.

At the next stoplight, Steve slams on the breaks. 

Billy almost flies through the goddamn windshield. He sits back against car seat leather. He breathes through his nose, counting to ten before he realizes that he’s covered in cigarette ash. His cigarette isn’t lit anymore.

Steve watches him evenly, soulful brown eyes calm.

Too calm.

Billy frowns. “What the fuck is going on with you, man?”

Steve shrugs. 

“It’s just a cigarette,” Billy presses forward, turning in his seat to give this his full fledged fucking attention. “You’re acting like you did when I was moving back home and you thought you couldn’t ask to come. Right before you broke Tommy Hagan’s nose when he said–”

“I know what that asshole said, I’m fifty, not a hundred,” Steve snaps. “I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yeah,” Billy says, shifting, “Yeah, you are. Like that time Alice wouldn’t let you come visit because she was doing that bullshit Home for 40 Days thing after Serena was born,” Billy tells him. He watches Steve’s face. Notices the crack before it happens because they’ve been friends for decades. 

It hurts him. “Steve–”

“I asked to come eventually,” Steve says, voice soft as feather down, neglecting to mention that he didn’t stay in California. “You moved back after the divorce. When Alice–”

“The light’s green,” Billy says. 

“I’m fine,” Steve tells him. “It’s fine.” He breathes through his nose, pawing at the brim of his dorky sun hat like he forgot it was there, for a moment. Like he wants to rip it off. 

Suddenly, with the force of a riptide, Billy misses the wave of Steve’s hair, still impossibly thick even into their middle age. He wants the hat gone, the sun free of all its massive danger. 

“I won’t smoke anymore,” Billy says, “If you want me to stop, I will.”

The moment hangs between them, and then, behind, someone honks.

“I want you to live forever,” Steve admits. Soft. Sweet.

Billy almost breaks in half. Isn’t sure why they’re talking about this now, in a car, on their way to the Market. But that’s what happens when you get older. Every moment like an oak leaf on the wind, slipping like water through clenched fists. 

He frowns, asking, “What about you?” Because. He wouldn’t want to spend forever alone.

“Why else am I wearing a fucking sunhat, Billy?”

Billy’s stomach knots. He opens his mouth to admit that he’s been in love with Steve for forty years, and he’ll always be the kind of man who burps and says the wrong thing and pushes too hard and smokes cigarettes, but. 

He loves him. 

Steve waits. When the second honk comes, he turns away, pulling his shitty old car onto Menard Street without another word. 

Billy swallows love, the movement as familiar to him as their friendship. It tastes like cigarette smoke. He tosses his unlit fag out the window, feeling like the shit hole scum of the earth when Steve reports that 30% of wildfires start with a carelessly discarded cigarette.

There’s a drought, too, Billy doesn’t say.

He should’ve thought it out. But it’s Steve. He only wanted to suck the wound.

–

Steve’s been twitchy for as long as Billy’s known him. It’s worse when he has something to say, when the skeletons in his closet regrow their ligament to stand on knocking knees, banging on the door, asking for an escape. 

Billy’s been around long enough to know that it’s best not to push, even when that’s all he does, all he’ll ever do. But. When it comes to Steve Harrington, things are different. Always. 

“What should we do first,” Billy asks. Knowing Steve’ll talk when he’s ready.

Harrington parks his car, the last in a long line of hybrids and hatchbacks, near the edge of the park. “I’m looking for honey,” He says, voice pulled tight like an out-of-tune string instrument. In a hurry. One wrong stroke and he’ll snap.

“‘Kay,” Billy says. 

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands once they’re out of the car. He resists the urge to lick his palm for a breath check, knowing he’ll find coffee and burnt toast and filmy pink love; tries to stop himself from tucking his shirt into the waist of his jeans, unfurling into the type of man that stops smoking and goes to Farmer’s Markets every weekend because his best friend asks him to. Against all odds.

Billy trots with Steve over the hill and into the market, his heart in his throat. They find the honey booth quickly and wait in line together, Steve tapping out an impatient rhythm on the cobblestone.

“You’re so squirrely today,” Billy says. He claps a hand on Steve’s neck, trying to squeeze out the tension. Wanting to touch him. 

Steve shrugs him off. 

Dick.

Billy rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms for safe keeping, having learned long ago that his hands will gravitate to Steve Harrington if given the chance. Billy aches for a cigarette, squints into the strengthening sunlight, yearning for his sunglasses, sunscreen, a sun hat–

“Lot of Pride Flags,” Billy says gruffly. His palms sweat, tacking unhelpfully to the hair on his forearms. It’s like he blinked, came up for air, and Indiana got progressive.

Steve stiffens next to him, “It’s June first, I think,” He says, hiding something.

“No shit?” Billy turns just in time to catch Steve watching him, a weird look in his eyes. “Should call Serena this afternoon.”

“Let’s go lesbians,” Steve says, a soft, pink smile on his face. 

Billy wants to ask about Robin, even though he just spoke to her on Wednesday when she called to demand how he keeps his tomato plants blooming into November. He wants to grab Steve by the face and say see, I’m alive. I’m here. I have a garden, and a daughter, and Robin remembers how I used to drink shitty Miller Lite and blast Elton John when you went out with girls. She remembers how much I wanted you. I would carve your name into every piece of driftwood that I threw into the quarry because my skin would scar over. Useless. Old and bereft while the driftwood would float forever, dissolving into the earth with your name sheathed in its very matter, bright and evergreen—

Steve buys two jars of honey.

He buys two of everything, at the Market, one for himself. One for Billy. Billy tries not to think about it.

“Where should we go next,” Steve makes room in the folds of his bag for the first of their loot. 

Billy only ever buys books at this thing. He raises one eyebrow, sidestepping a pair of lesbians that send a shock of tenderness down his spine. Heather and Robin in ‘87. He bites his tongue, though, thinking through their usual haunts. “What about the corn booth?” 

Steve loves sweet corn. He’s a cliche, shrugging his shoulders, “Could do that. We could try something else, too.”

Billy looks at him, grinning, “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

“Well. We started with honey.”

“Yeah.”

“The bakery booth is supposed to be out this week, I heard.” Steve hasn’t shut up about the orange-cranberry muffins he got on a lunch break two weeks ago. He shrugs, thinking better of it. Feigning nonchalance. Billy would fall for it if they hadn’t known each other for years. “Or we could go to the book stand,” Steve says. 

Dangling hope in the starched summer air.

Billy startles a laugh, “Already? We haven’t done your grocery shopping for the week.”

“It’s hot, we don’t have to stay long,” Steve says, watching the crowd thrall around them, “You deserve something for coming out with me today.”

“I come out with you every weekend.”

Steve groans, “C’mon, I’m trying to be nice. Either we go to the book stand, or we’re getting muffins.”

“I’m trying not to eat so much sugar,” A blonde boy skitters into the Market lane, turning to grin past the swell of Billy’s shoulder. There’s a pride flag painted on his cheek bone, smeared delicately by the slide of lips. Billy tries to look away, “Gluten, either.”

Steve gapes, “So you’re not eating sugar or gluten anymore but you’ve never met a cigarette you didn’t like?”

The blonde waits in the sunlight, fingers stretched out in front of him until a boy with huge, soft brown hair knits into all his boyfriend’s empty spaces. 

They kiss. 

Billy looks at Steve, flushed. 

Steve holds his gaze. Finally, “Let’s go to the book stand,” He says, catching Billy off guard. Throwing him a bone.

–

Hawkin’s Public Library was forced, a screaming, tantrum filled child, into the new millennium about a month after Billy and Alice divorced and Serena told the judge she wanted to move back home to Indiana. 

To be with Uncle Steve. That’s what she’d said to the judge. “Daddy and me want Uncle Steve,” Billy had noticed how Alice went ram-rod straight at the name. Like she always did, sour by the way Billy and their daughter, both, couldn’t seem to live without him. “We want to go home.”

So, they went. Alice didn’t try to stop them.

Really, home in the textbook sense was always California. Serena was born in Long Beach. She could stand on a surfboard by the time she was two years old and she abhorred the winter, any item of clothing that sat too close to the base of her neck. The smell of barley. None of that mattered, in the long run. 

Hawkins was home to her. Their clumsy, earnest, well loved vernacular to the court’s stuffy, clinical language.

It didn’t matter to Serena that Indiana was a relic in Billy’s history. She had never moved past sleepy summers spent landlocked, running through sprinklers with Max and Lucas’ wheat-fed kids and eating bomb pops in the swimming pool with a slew of found family aunts and uncles, her halo of blonde ringlets crunchy from too much chlorine. 

Even into her adolescence, the only person she let brush her hair straight out of the pool was her Uncle Steve. The only person she cried to was Uncle Steve. The adult she loved most in the world, except her dad. Maybe.

Billy’s own memories of that time were worn thin. Throbbing with heartache, like a damsel who was bound to find her way back home at the end of some terrible, cruel romantic comedy. He ached on the plane ride to Hawkins. Burned when they moved into the new house. Crumbled as he slept alone every night, grateful in tiny, hidden places that Serena had seemed to process her parent’s divorce and their subsequent move across the country before the first box had been unpacked.

For Billy, things weren’t so easily digested.

He needed time to let the guilt swallow him. The sting of hurt to lick at his fingers. Alice and the tattered flag of their loveless marriage paled in comparison to the way Steve had slipped wordlessly into her place.

It almost killed Billy that they were happier, here. That neither one of them had tried to hold on to their life back in California. 

–

Point is, they used to take Serena to the library together.

Billy’s own mom had believed that books were the key to everything. Children learn by watching colorful characters trail their way through the hills and valleys of friendship. They’re introduced to death and loss in the fold of a page, the monochrome glint of words on yellowing cardstock. They learn to let go by watching someone else do it first. 

Really, Serena hadn’t needed the library. Even at that age she was more level-headed than Billy had been in his entire life, but Steve suggested they go, anyway. “We have to raise a reader, like you.” He’d said. As if Billy was the best thing a person could be.

We.

We have to raise a reader.

–

Hawkins Library sells used books at the Farmer’s Market these days. Budget and funding cuts forcing their hand, Billy caught in a violent spell of fifty-cent paperbacks. 

The memory of Serena holding Steve’s hand, trailing excitedly down every aisle. Even the grown-up ones. Scowling when Steve would snatch every book from her hand, spitting they were, “inappropriate for little girls, Serena.”

Demanding to know when she’d be old enough to read anything with vampires in it.

Billy smiles at the memory, heart fluttering as Steve trails in front of him now in his dorky sun hat, calloused fingers dancing over the spines of every book on the Memoirs shelf. 

Without his salt and pepper showing, and if Steve’s face wasn’t furled in concentration so that his laugh lines gouged deeper into the split around his mouth; Steve looks the same as he always has. 

Billy side-steps another pair of lesbians, running head-first into the LGBTQIA+ Romance section. His heart thuds. He looks around, trying to catalog this territory. Pride flags, Cher playing over a pill-sized bluetooth speaker.

The portable shelf has a flier stuck to it. A disco ball with rainbow streamers falling like wet rags from the words Hawkins Community GSA Presents: Queer Prom. Get Your Tickets at the Booth!

Billy turns, heart in his throat. He watches Steve mouth along to the back of whatever book he’s holding. Catches sight of some president, or something, staring nobly through the break of Steve’s fingers. 

Some twink, sandwiched between the next row of shelves, laughs, and Steve looks up. Catching Billy. He deposits the memoir back on the shelf. “You drug me all the way over here and you haven’t even looked at anything.”

Billy swallows the lump in his throat. “What’s going on, Steve?”

“I don’t know–”

Billy rips the flier from the book shelf, thrusting it into Steve’s wide, waiting palms. 

Steve mouths along to the words. Like he did with the memoir. Like he always has, with the instructions on Betty Crocker Cake Boxes, and the confusing swirl of the How To’s for little girl’s play sets, stretching all the way back to the spring of 1985 when he would pay Billy in saccharine smiles to read Kafka out loud. Write Steve’s essays for him.

“Huh,” Steve flushes bright pink across the bridge of his nose. “Get your tickets at the booth,” He says, artfully avoiding Billy’s gaze, “Cool idea. The instructions aren’t very clear, though, there’s so many booths–”

“You said today was a special occasion,” Billy accuses flatly. It’s getting harder to breathe. “You said you weren’t acting weird, but you’re acting weird, and I–”

“--Will you go to prom with me?” Steve says. Then, Immediately, “I don’t want to freak you out.”

Billy snatches the flier back from him, shaking all over. 

“Okay, alright,” Steve swallows, fingers splayed like Billy’s a junkyard dog who’s backed into a corner. Who’ll attack any minute now. “Look, I just. I thought if I was gonna grow a pair of balls, like. If I was ever gonna do this, I should do it here.”

That doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

Steve inches closer, his lined, aging, familiar, beautiful face open like a sunroof. Like a hole in the sky. “Billy,” Steve says, “Ever since I met you–”

“--What the fuck is going on–”

“--Stop, okay? Just. Let me say this?” Steve waits, patiently, for a confirmation. Billy doesn’t move or breathe or blink. Steve presses forward, “Ever since I met you when I was seventeen years old I thought. You were someone I could spend the rest of my life with.”

Someone exhales all the wind in their lungs. Billy. 

Steve bristles at the sound. He pulls inward, seeming to notice that people are looking at them over the bookshelves with the kind of intensity that puts a basketball court under Billy’s feet. That reminds him of how Steve would defend Billy to the world before he got better.

Before he was worth anyone’s love.

“So,” Steve lifts a hand to his forehead before realizing he’s still in the sun hat. He takes it off, “I had a speech,” He tells the sun hat, folding the brim between two fingers. Hair a mess but still perfect. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“I think I’ll pass out,” Billy admits earnestly.

“I’d catch you,” Steve says, so. Billy takes a timid step forward, flinching out of his skin when Steve looks up and says, “I’m in love with you.”

Once upon a time, Billy thought the world would collapse if they said those words out loud.

It doesn’t.

“So,” Billy rasps, wringing the flier in his fist, “You thought. You could ask me to prom?”

“We didn’t get to go to prom when we were kids.”

“You went with Nancy,” Billy snaps, strangling the flier. “You danced. I watched you dance–”

“--We didn’t get to go together.”

“You wanted to go to prom with me?”

“Of course. Billy, I moved to California because I was in love with you.” Steve says, like just saying it out loud points to the bread-crumb trail of what they’ve been dancing around for all these years. Like ah-ha. Checkmate.

Billy sniffs. Something wet on his cheeks. “You left California.”

“Because I was in love with you.” Steve nods slowly, “You. You met Alice, and. I thought–”

“--I can’t go to gay prom with you, Steve.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye, used to Billy’s flair for the dramatic. “Why not?”

“Because,” Billy says, looking around desperately. All he finds are lesbians and twinks weaving in and out of the aisles, caught in their own little crystal-clear worlds, useless. “Because I’m in my fifties. And so are you.”

“The event is all ages,” Steve tells him, bored, “Well. Really it’s for old people. Because we never got to have one.”

And. 

The fact that Steve went to prom with Nancy, that he bought flowers and pinned a satin pink corsage to her dress, holding her hand while they danced under seafoam lights, but it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Who he wanted–

Billy sniffs. Trying to stamp out the fire in his chest. “I have a mortgage and and a tomato garden, and a daughter in New York–”

“--This was Serena’s idea,” Steve admits suddenly. “She’s the one who sent me the information on Facebook.”

Of course.

Billy nods, “You’re wearing a sunhat.” His chest, opening like a springtime rose. Stupid. “You can’t say you love me and then ask me to prom when you’re wearing–”

“I took it off,” Steve says. A smile in his voice.

“I stopped smoking for you,” Bill accuses. 

Steve snorts, “Like you aren’t gonna finish the pack first.”

Billy laughs, and it’s wet-sounding. It rattles in his chest and then bursts into the air between them, somehow pulling Steve across the cobblestone. He pushes Billy’s hair back from his face, fiddling with the same earring that’s been there for forty years. Changed only once, for prom.

Billy looks at him. Catalogs the years, the love that grew like ivy over everything else. He hiccups, “I never thought you’d love me back.”

“Of course I love you back.”

“But,” He says, thinking of how their lives could have been so different, “Why–”

“--We can have this,” Steve tells him, pulling Billy close. “We deserve this.”

Another thing Billy will have to settle into. 

It’s nice. He wants to kiss Steve, so he does, because Hawkins has turned into the kind of place that hosts gay prom, where lesbians and twinks roam freely in their little rainbow outfits. 

Steve licks into Billy’s mouth and they melt into each other, gone soft by the years, and the heat of June. When Steve pulls away, his lips press like stamps to Billy’s forehead, his chin, both eyes, his mustache–

Billy giggles. “We should get our tickets.”

“I already have them,” Steve says.

Billy pulls back, gawking.

“I ordered them online.”

“You know how to order things online?”

“Serena ordered them,” Steve says, shrugging. 

And.

Billy grunts. Wanting to say that he could’ve said no. He’s still himself, after all, smoke free organic or not, but. Steve knits their fingers together, “C’mon,” He says, and Billy doesn’t ask where they’re going next. It doesn’t matter. 

They’ve been in love since they were seventeen. Billy’s just happy that it gets to live out in the open, now. Glittery with pride.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 62)

How had she been talked into this?

After her little breakdown N had suggested she get out of the house. And had suggested a ‘mother's group’ he'd found a flyer for outside the WDF office. In his words “maybe being around people who have gone through what you're going through would help?”

That wasn't taking into account that their pregnancies didn't involve making the body inside them, but at the same time he'd been so genuine when he'd suggested it, and had given her the biggest puppy eyes…

She was weak okay?

So here she was, in a room that looked a lot like the inside of a preschool, with small toys and safety foam covering the floor and crawling up the wall, pillows were scattered everywhere, of all shape, size and color. There were no chairs… so she sat on the floor joining three other people.

Their kids were here too, as was Tera who was on her lap, glancing around at every person and child in the room, looking like she still needed to get used to the room and the people before she drew any attention to herself.

Uzi felt out of place… all these mothers looked like they all knew each other, and she in her dark clothing and small stature stuck out like a sore thumb. It was like school all over again.

“Sorry I'm late, Kiara didn't want to calm down this morning…” A woman she recognized came though the door carrying a white- eyelighted toddler with platinum blonde hair who didn't exactly look the happiest.

“It happens Delilah, no worries, we aren't taking attendance.” A pink eyed woman in a lacey, tan dress smiled as her green eyed toddler in a green onesie waddled around her, his steps uneven but clearly just learning how to amble around.

“Though if we were, we'd add someone new.” All the attention suddenly turned to Uzi and Tera, Uzi squirmed uncomfortably, feeling like she was being judged while Tera buried herself into her hoodie at all the eyes.

“Uh… hi?” She spat out awkwardly giving the room a wary smile as she pet down Tera's back to calm her down.

This was a stupid idea, I don't like people. How did he drag me into this!

“Oh! I know you, you helped Zoey in the store a few weeks ago.” Delilah beamed, going over to sit next to her, Kiara fussed in her arms, causing her mother to sigh.

“Y-yeah, that was me…”

She may have forgotten how to interact pleasently with people she didn't know.

“It’s Uzi… by the way.” She turned her attention to the other people looking at her, feeling her voice get small as they didn't stop, she gulped, feeling nauseous.

“Doorman? I never expected to see you here.” A woman with both a toddler and a pillbaby said, she had ginger hair and was in a elaborate looking blue sundress, and sunglasses perched in her hair. The toddler had red eyelights, the pillbaby blue, their mother shared in her pillbabies color, and her voice was just as cold.

“Me neither, her uh… dad convinced me to show up today.”

Oh robo-god, why was she so awkward?

“Martha! That was rude. Everyone is welcome here.” The pink eyed woman huffed and turned her attention back to Uzi, smiling as she watched her toddler out of the corner of her eye.

“I'm Ginger, this is Toby.” She pointed at her son, the green eyed toddler, who had just fallen over after sneezing, thankfully, he just giggled in response.

“You already met Delilah and Kiara.” Delilah smiled at her again, Kiara was too busy fussing to do much of anything else.

And then there's Clover, and her daughter Bonnie.” A green eyelighted woman gave her a small wave, she was wearing a floral dress and a sunhat, for some reason, her vidor displayed simulated freckles. In her ams was a pillbaby with orange eyelights, though right now she was in sleep mode.

“Martha's two are Cain and Axel, Cain's red, Axel’s blue.” Martha rolled her eyes, but nodded at her, Cain flashed her a mischivous smile, being clearly the oldest toddler here, he was walking with no problem and was looking around curiosily.

“This is Tera, she's not a fan of large groups of people, give her a little time to warm up.” She gestured to her daughter clinging to her like she was a lifeline.

“Oh that's quite alright! I've heard about you and your husband, he's a disassembly drone, right?” Ginger asked, clearly trying to be friendly, Uzi however squeaked as her visor filled with violet at the word husband.

“Uh- we're not…” She stammered, curse her dad for spreading around the rumor that they were married, they were dating. Not married.

“Yeah… he is, his name's N.”

And apparently… she was going to fuel that rumor herself now… great.

“He's a total sweetheart.” Delilah hummed, making Uzi turn to her both confused and feeling slightly threatened.

“Sorry, didn't mean it like that. From what I saw, he was so good with Tera, and he was holding your hand the entire time you were in the store. It was cute.” She clarified, making Uzi blush even more at being called out for their PDA, it wasn't her fault N insisted on holding her hand!

“I wouldn’t expect that out of a killing machine.” Martha butted in, making Uzi immediately glare at her.

“He's not a killing machine.” Uzi growled, and the mother rolled her eyes again but raised her hands up in defense.

“Martha. Please” Clover pleaded, her voice much softer then anyone else's, but it was quiet enough in the room that she wasn't drowned out.

Tera shuffled in her grip, and Uzi looked down at her, she'd had her time to adjust and was now ready to crawl around the room to say hello.

“What do you need Jellybean?” Uzi asked, and Tera smiled while pointing out into the room and vibrating slightly.

“You can go say hello, do you want me to go with you?”

Tera squinted her eyes and stuck out her tongue before shaking her head, so Uzi sat her down in front of her. “Alright, if you think you can go around to everyone by yourself, go ahead.”

Tera immediately went forward to Ginger, crawling along the floor until she was sitting in front of her, Toby was also staring at her, but it looked like Tera was ignoring him for now.

“Hi!” Tera chirped, sitting a lot like a dog waiting for head pats. Ginger laughed and leaned down to her.

“Hello little one. Aren't you a brave one?” Tera beamed and nodded her head before she turned her attention to Toby, who was crawling closer.

“Hewwo!” He belted, possibly slightly too close to Tera because she winced and growled softly at him, Ginger pushed him back slightly. “Toby, volume.”

“Sowwy Mama…” But Toby still turned his attention to Tera, who was still looking at him.

She put a palm out and covered his visor while she squinted, almost as if she was telling him off. Toby didn't really react to it, only laughed at the contact to his visor.

“Tera, we don't touch people without their permission.” Uzi scolded lightly, making Tera look up at her before slowly moving her hand away, she looked at the ground as an apology.

“It's okay, you're still learning, say hi to everyone else.” Tera nodded and moved on to Clover, who waved at her enthusiastically.

“Oooh, am I next? Hi baby!” Clover beamed, and Tera beamed back, crawling quickly over to Clover before yelping; “Hi!” The movement and the noise disrupted Bonnie however, and the pillbaby began to fuss, rolling in her mother's arms.

“Oh, sorry Bon-Bon, mommy got excited…” Tera cocked her head at the pillbaby, getting Clovers attention by pointing at herself, then to the pillbaby.

“Her name is Bonnie, here, you can touch her, just be careful.” Tera hoisted herself onto the woman's knee and looked at the pillbaby, who looked back with squinted eyelights.

Tera very slowly reached out to graze a finger over the soft silicone of the pillbaby, causing the girl to giggle and roll slightly, Tera beamed, before saying in a much lower volume. “Bon!”

“Oh! She said her name!” Clover looked ecstatic, Uzi was filled with pride. “Yeah, she's always picked up names pretty fast, though I think more complicated one's trip her up.”

“How old is she?” Ginger asked, catching Toby with one hand as he fell and not even looking at him. Apparently that happened a lot.

“About 9 months. we put her in a toddler body early, she had so much pent up energy.” As she spoke Tera went other to Martha, who raised an eyebrow at her, Cain waited impatiently while sitting, his knee shaking.

She looked back at Uzi, who smiled and gave and encouraging gesture, so Tera went up to Martha's knee.

“Hi.” Tera seemed noticeably less confident here, looking between Martha and Cain, and holding herself slightly awkwardly, Martha sighed and ruffled Tera's hair.

“I'm not gonna bite squirt.”

Tera smiled, and nodded, before quickly moving on to Delilah, who smiled.

“Hello, you remember us right?” Tera immediately crawled up to sit on Delilah's knee, looking up at her and then down at Kiara, who was now staring at the purple eyelighted toddler.

“Kia! Hi!”

“Ra!” Kiara yelped, squirming to try and sit upright but struggling to do so, Delilah looked amused, and a little sad.

“This one still hasn't gotten used to her toddler body, she's about one and a half…” Tera giggled as Kiara tried to hold her arms out only to clumsily almost slap Tera instead.

“They all develop at different speeds Delilah, don't worry.” Ginger smiled, and Tera, after a moment of trying to get Kiara to laugh, (which she succeeded by flashing an ‘X’ across her screen.) Moved back into Uzi's lap, now a bit tired.

“For nine months, she's sharp.” Clover complemented, and Uzi felt more pride well up in her, she kneaded her hand in her daughters hair and let out a smug laugh.

“Well… we try to talk to her like an adult, she understands a lot more then you would think, that might have something to do with it.”

“So is she half… what did you say? ‘disassembly drone’?” Delilah asked, leaning slightly in her direction likely as a way to make her feel more comfortable.

“No. She's adopted, we got her around four to three weeks.” Tera snuggled up into her lap, purring as she decided it was time to take a well deserved nap.

“You could've fooled me! She looks just like you!” Ginger replied, and Uzi just smiled, relaxing into this group she found herself in.

“We just got lucky.”

“Or it was destiny!” Clover piped up, smiling at her, which made Martha roll her eyes.

“You think everything is destiny.”

“Everything is destiny! Everything happens for a reason Martha.”

“Ugh…”

Okay, yeah, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all…

[fauustic]

aa hello!! could I request a miguel x enby reader in any way??

the genre really doesn't matter but maybe a little fluff?

for an idea i was thinking the reader works as a florist and miguel knows them meeting them as spiderman. he begins taking a liking to them so he comes to the shop often getting flowers or small bouquets, but each flower means love or care, or notice me? (I'm thinking it would be really adorable if he just, late night studied floriagraphy for them) in the flower language, and they start taking notice to it, and eventually ask him?? idk this is silly but if you wanna write it!!

I hope you have a lovely day!!

(( stares at the miguel gifs i've used so far with a longing gaze... i only have so many left ..

i really hope you enjoy this, thank you so much for your request! it was super sweet. ))

nonbinary reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

fluff. like pure fluff. its literally just miguel pining after a little silly florist.

warnings: literally none except the use of some language. possible use of incorrect spanish because i'm learning so i have help of a translator in some parts :) let me know if i can fix anything!

word count: 3742

The smell of all kinds of flowers flooded your senses as the floral shop's door opened with a little chime, a beautiful melody that brightens every beginning of your shift. The shop that has become the core of your life was nothing too fancy, hidden away in a cozy little alleyway accompanied by a coffee shop and another restaurant– a safe space along the bustling city. 

Your identity wasn’t something that you mentioned often, but with the support of your coworkers you couldn’t help but express yourself easier. Being able to incorporate outfits of all kinds in your daily life without much more than a stare, some days you’d adorn a long skirt and a tank top, finished off with a floral-patterned apron to keep yourself tidy. Other days, you didn’t exactly confine yourself with a particular style because you were just you. As free and as happy as ever.

That was one of the many things you loved about the city you found yourself in. The growth and ability to thrive in Nueva York was a symbol of diversity, no matter who you were or where you had come from. It was different back home, so the newfound independence pushed you to be more talkative and approachable because you didn’t need to worry about others' thoughts. Labels and identities were celebrated in the cultures you intertwined with.

So when you found out you aligned with the embodiment of being nonbinary, you snatched it up like a piece of treasure and hadn’t looked back at who you were once before.

The love you had for flowers was immeasurable, somehow finding ways to include floral in your outfits no matter what you were wearing. A lovely white magnolia, fresh and healthy, found shelter in the secure pocket of your apron. Another flower was tucked upon the sunhat you adorned, a light pink peony settled right within the ribbon.

The alley your store took home in held a usual quiet atmosphere soothed by the comforting ambience of bird chirping due to housing a small little section for trees scattered about the alleyway. It reminded you of where your love for nature first began. Yet as you misted a bundle of Irises blooming upon a full window-sill, doused in a beautiful sunny haze, the tranquillity washing over you was unfortunately interrupted when a cat bumped against the shop’s window closest to you. It was loud, shaking the Irisies you just tended to.

Jumping from the sudden chaos happening outside your floristry, you couldn’t help but rush out the door with the watering pot still in hand. Did you need to get involved? You couldn't help but wonder to yourself when you noticed the little feline looked as if it was running away from something, but before you could intervene the answer dived past you on all fours, claw marks left in its wake. The figure, you have recognized from the news, was the talk of the city– broadcasts nicknaming the hero “Spiderman.” But what was he doing trying to grab one little kitty with the intensity of a predator? Surely Nueva York had more crime than that.

Entertaining the idea of watching such a well-respected hero having difficulty catching a feline, you played it off as if you were watering the flowers that decorate your shop– but in reality you just wanted to have a good laugh at seeing the man who has made criminals beg on their knees for forgiveness speak to the cat in desperation.

Funnily enough, the cat did climb one of the many large trees planted around your shop, and even if it was a bit hard to hear from the distance, this Spiderman guy wouldn’t stop trying to call for it to come down.

“Come ‘ere, gatito.” He shouted towards the cat at the tree’s base, his claws digging into the bark as if he was contemplating scaling the tree himself. “If I don’t bring you back with me, you will have to give up treats for the rest of your life. You don’t want that, do you?” His next step was to “psspspssp,” which just came out as a weird hiss. The cat only hissed back, which only fueled his discontentment even more. Without another moment to spare, Spiderman scaled the tree in two leaps, plucking the cat from the branches with a cautious hold. When he landed on the ground, he caught you staring a little too hard.

But the scene was just too hilarious, having to stifle a hearty giggle with the back of your hand as you noticed he was walking straight towards your shop. But luck wasn’t on your side today, as he stood right behind you. The window mirrored how he was holding the cat the same way as before, held like a little baby with its arms reaching out to you. You only laughed harder, crumbling to your knees as water splashed at your boots from the watering can. He didn’t dare to utter another word, obviously finding amusement in your little laughing fit over something so stupid.

“Did you get it out of your system, jardinero?” It was no doubt he was smirking under his mouth as he loomed over your laughing form. A ruffled meow followed his question, which only made you double down on your giggles. “Oh my god– I can’t breathe. Holy shit–” You cried out, rolling on the side to only have a flurry of Wisterias cloud your vision. 

“Who knew the biggest baddest hero that Nueva has, could barely even catch a little animal?” You cackled into the air, which instantly made him defensive. 

“I did not have a difficult time with this little pest, he’s as agile as a Roomba.” His tone was flat, if not a bit irritated. If you didn’t notice the soft chuckles escaping him softly, you would have thought he was genuinely bothered. Spiderman scooped up the cat in a more comfortable position, belly facing the both of you as the cat’s back lied against his arms. “Lo que sea–” He muttered through his mask, shaking his head in disbelief. After a short pause, it's clear he had nothing else left to say. “That’s enough entertainment for you today.” It was clear he was done once he spun on his heel, cat in arms and not even sparing a wave.

Something overcame you, as you called out to him. Maybe you were just as stricken as all his other fans, but as he paused with an awaited glance– you rushed through the waves of color in your floral shop before stopping to a bundle of crimson petals. Plucking a single bloom, you rushed out your store in a flustered mess so he wouldn’t have to wait long. 

There wasn’t much to his suit, so there was no way you could easily position it in a way the flower couldn’t fall. So you just settled with putting it against the cat’s ear, the feline wearing it without a care.

You sighed, smoothing out your apron in nervous relief. This was an eventful start to your day, to say the very least. But Spiderman didn’t move from where he moved despite being eager to leave just a moment ago. Instead, his attention was fixated at the bloom in his grasp.

“It’s an Amaryllis. Truly a beautiful one, right?” Your tone shifted, excitement lacing your voice at the opportunity to explain a flower to a stranger– let alone someone that is apparently a huge deal.

“... What does it mean?” When your attention snapped to his masked face, you weren’t able to distinguish his wonderstruck expression. You gladly took the chance to ramble about what you knew about the flower, and explain the exact reason why you chose it. 

“Amaryllis have multiple kinds of meanings you see– every flower does– but they’ve always been a symbol of hard-earned success due to its representation of determination and pride. I thought it was fitting because I was able to watch you in action, and you deserve a reward for your civic duties.” You couldn’t help but include some form of humor in your sprinkles of a compliment, but the truth was there. No matter what he had to do under the mask, he deserved to be reminded that his successful missions help so many people. It may have not been your cat, but you were happy that someone will now return back home to their fluffy companion. “And the scarlet coloring of its petals kinda matches your suit, so in a way it kind of reminds me of you.” The masked man in front of you was completely silent, until the gloved hand meeting his shoulder shook him from his daze. “Good work, Spiderman. Can’t wait what next animal you’re going to save,” The spell you unknowingly put him under was slapped away in an instant at the little jab.

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips before he could turn away, which only encouraged your teasing more. He waved behind his back, keeping his focus on what’s in front of him. “What will it be, a giraffe? Maybe a walrus–” Spiderman was gone by the time you sputtered the second animal, leaping away with an iron grip on the feline to a nearby building rooftop.

“What about something cool like a whale shark? Now that’d be something to read online..” You mumbled to yourself, brushing off your apron one last time before clutching your trusty watering pail and beginning your duties for the day.

Which is how Miguel O’Hara found himself hunched over his computer, staring at a gallery full of vibrant botany with a sigh. He couldn’t express it under the mask– he had a purpose to not allow any sign of weakness when the suit is on, but he was absolutely smitten by you over some stupid mishap on his end and a nervous, endearing ramble about your knowledge of flowers. The nightlife seeped into the windows of his home, neon lights reflecting off the walls. It was late, but Miguel was determined to shove some kind of information down his brain to make him not look like a complete fool when he arrived at the floral shop again. He was a chemist, for god’s sake– botany wasn’t too far off, was it?

He was just so enthralled with you, the way your eyes lit up ever so slightly at the opportunity of ranting about your favorite thing. The scent of fresh flowers entering his senses through the slightly cracked door of the floristry– it was a place he wanted to spend all his freetime in. Having been surrounded by the burning smell of chemicals and the pollution of such a technologically advanced city, Miguel craved to surround himself with so much nature. Or maybe, secretly, he just yearned to have a space of his own that was hidden away from the evils of Nueva York.

It took him a little while to finally work up the courage to stroll in, not having the mask around his head while he met someone as Spiderman always gave him a weird feeling. But he pushed that aside, chanting the knowledge that he crammed in his memory so he wouldn’t stupidly ask for a bundle of flowers that probably didn’t even exist.

Stepping foot in the floral shop for the first time was like a big breath of fresh air, his muscles relaxing ever so slightly at the influx of sweet scents. It reminded him of you, the same smell of blossoms clinging onto you even after you walked through the alleyway to give him that Amaryllis. He still kept onto it, dried against the confinement of his wallet. 

Miguel was going to start browsing even though he already knew what he wanted simply because he wanted to know this place inside and out– it was a part of you after all. But he didn’t go very long unnoticed, your voice making him well-aware of that. 

“Hey, welcome to Nueva’s most diverse little flower nursery! Happy to see a new face, if there’s anything I can do for you just let me know!” Your voice came from the back of the store, yet you peeked out and was able to study him from afar. He tried his best to be stoic, nodding in understanding before quickly averting his gaze to the waves of flowers you clearly took very good care of. 

Miguel, when faced with attraction to another, struggled deeply with bringing it into words. It didn’t exactly help his case when you haven’t met him outside of being Spiderman, so he devised a subtle plan to get closer to you. He wasn’t religious, but he still prayed that you would pay attention to his little requests and specific choosing of flowers.

And you did, of course you did. Your attentiveness squeezed his heart with a grasp he’s never felt before. After transforming into the Spiderman 2099 he’s come to accept, Miguel just couldn’t bring himself to fall for another. But when it came to you, and your silly little knowledge about flowers and the way he watched you tend to each and every one of them with the same amount of tenderness, the sweetness in your touch made him fall even harder. He imagined your hands grasping his own, as if he was as fragile as a flower. The idea made him flustered.

“A bouquet of red tulips and camellia, please.” He found himself asking you, his index, middle, and ring finger drumming along your counter in a soft rhythm. You were caught by his words almost instantaneously, a certain look in your eyes that even he couldn’t decipher. A knowing smirk erupted on your features, not being able to help yourself at teasing this new customer. “That’s so cute, you found yourself a soulmate?” Miguel choked at the proposal, the question rolling off your tongue in a singsong as you began skipping along the shop you owned. 

The gracefulness you had in every step distracted him, plucking every sense of dignity he had as if he was a flower getting its own petals plucked by your graze. “Only a flower connoisseur would know the meanings behind such simple flowers. It’s what makes them interesting, but I suppose the mix of bright crimson intermingled with a calming purple brings a sort of intensity most people don’t get.” You unknowingly held the bouquet to your heart, a smile blessing your lips. “Camellias are standard flowers that convey longing, mostly a yearning for one out of reach. While a red tulip is a promise, the subtle intention of trying to tell another that you want to spend the rest of your life with the recipient. It’s a big commitment to use such flowers for a bouquet, hopefully you know what you’re getting into.” You wrapped it without a second thought, framed with a sweet soft yellow. 

The cashier popped open as he paid.

“I do,” Miguel peered into your gaze, “I know exactly what I’m gettin’ into, mi sol.” He couldn’t help but utter, scooping the bouquet from your stunned response with a cheeky smile.

“W-What’s your name..?” Your composure lost, you demanded an answer as your finger twirled around an Amaryllis. You had kept one close by since your run-in with Spiderman, your thoughts never swaying from the masked hero until now. The stranger now seemed so familiar, but you couldn’t bring yourself to blurt out anything stupid.

Breathing in the bouquet he picked out, his shoulders sagged just a bit in relief. “Miguel,” He picked up a red tulip, the darkest hue in the bunch, and gently placed it right beyond your ear. “Miguel O’Hara.” His gaze flickered from your name tag and the flower he placed upon your curls, a satisfied quirk of his lips dashing his features. He sounded your name out like a blessing, and the two of you shared a stare that almost knocked you down. 

As he left the floral shop, with the little chime of the door signalling his exit, Miguel had waved behind his back with his other hand keeping the bouquet close to his chest. It reminded you how the masked man occupying your thoughts gave you the same gesture in goodbye, and you couldn’t help but pry the red tulip he placed upon you with delicate hands. 

Bringing it to your nose, suddenly red tulips smelled a lot more honey-like.

The two of you found each other in this routine for weeks now. Neither of you could break, he’d walk into the floral shop and continuously order different kinds of bouquets– sets of flowers that practically screamed, “love me back, you’re all I think about, notice me my dear.” Pink roses hugged by Peruvian and Stargazer lilies, the next week would be more simple– a pair of red roses intertwined with fresh caspia.

His voice was distinct, over the many years you’ve operated this little floral shop hidden away, the only two times you’ve heard the little rambles of his and the light accent within his tone was of course from him, but you kept help but think you’ve heard him somewhere else too. It made you nervous thinking about it, was it truly stupid to think he may be Spiderman? Over just one simple interaction with the masked hero and all of a sudden a person with a similar voice and mannerisms begins parading around your store and buying the most mushy, cliche bundles of floral you’ve ever seen? At this point, Miguel has helped generate an amount of revenue you haven’t seen in months.

By the time his next visit came into fruition, you couldn’t help the question that has loomed over your consciousness for the last week.

“Do.. do you-” You stumbled over your words clumsily, picking at the new floral he’s offered this time. Red roses surrounded by pink, finished off with a row of calla lilies. A beautiful balance of red, pink, and white. “Miguel, what are you trying to say with these bouquets?” You breathed out heavily, the nervousness of speaking about something weighing on you to someone you’ve found yourself attached to crashed against your usual calm and teasing attitude. You were out of your element.

Miguel’s eyes widened at the sudden question, which he averted from your gaze almost immediately. 

Your mind was working a million miles a minute, and as you were trying to get the questions out as fast as possible you stumbled over your words like how you usually do, which in any other situation Miguel would cackle as you burn into the ground in a flustered mess.

“Are you into Spiderman?” You yelled into the empty floral shop, placing your hands down upon the counter in accusation with a thud. A moment of silence hung over the two, bouquet still in your grasp like it's glued to you.

“Am I- what-” Miguel’s jaw practically fell open, in which his fangs were finally on clear display to you. You only could point, stuttering in an embarrassed flurry of limbs as you tried your best to explain yourself. 

“That’s not–” You mumbled as his gaze only widened more, not believing the question he just heard. “I meant are you like–” The silence on Miguel’s end wasn’t making this situation any better. “Are you into me?” You blurted out again, hiding your face in embarrassment. “Like– are you sure you’re into me? Like I didn’t know you would like me like that because I know I express myself a bit differently but–”

Miguel cut yourself off with his hands grasping yours, the bouquet now shared between the two of you. “I-” He sighed, casting his gaze downwards before facing you with a look of determination. As you spent time with Miguel, you came to understand that he never was good at talking about himself. Everything clicked into place as he nodded slowly, not a hint of doubt in his silent confession.

“I thought you’d notice sooner or later,” He huffed, dragging his thumbs against the skin of both of your hands. “Since the moment I saw you with an ungrateful gatito crowding my arms, I can’t lie that you piqued an interest I didn’t know I could feel.” Miguel sighed, leaning forward to lean against the counter opposite of you. “Who you are, how you express yourself– that's why I became so drawn to you, cariño.”

Now your jaw was the one to drop, before dropping your head to the counter the two of you shared in exasperation. “Oh my god! I knew it, I literally knew it. But I didn’t want to seem like some crazy person, you know? But I was right, what the fuck.” He couldn’t but laugh, which earned a warmth spread throughout your chest. Miguel only let out a chuckle and it had your insides twisting as if you were on a rollercoaster.

“You are too much, mi sol.”

“I wasn’t the one buying flowers to subtly tell someone I have a massive crush on them!”

Miguel frowned for only a moment, before leaning in just a bit closer. “Since I put in so much work to flaunt my love for you, do I earn a kiss?”

You rolled your eyes, before practically melting into his touch upon your jaw. Miguel met your lips and it almost felt like rain after a long drought. You didn’t know you wanted to kiss him so badly until his mouth was already on yours, his other hand trailing up the sleeves of your shirt and pulling your floral apron closer to him. 

When the two of you separated after becoming putty in one another’s grasp, Miguel mumbled right upon your lips, breath fanning the blush you felt;

“May I please visit you still, mi corazón? I wouldn’t know what to do without coming here, swallowed by your scent and surrounded by what you love the most.”

You only laughed, nodding against his hand upon your cheek. It soon became a nuzzle, relaxing against his touch like the cat he saved when you first met him. 

“Don’t start asking stupid questions, you know you’re more than welcome to come find me wherever I may end up at.” Miguel smiled, full of teeth and unapologetically showing his fangs.

The two of you intertwined like bonded stems, peppering kisses on one another until the door chimed once again.