#i genuinely dont remember their last names

[rainy-arcade]

🔥 The illusion of having a choice

Oh Bea, the tragic half-tiefling that you are

I haven't posted much oc stuff over here yet but you'll learn about my ocs slowly. Eventually

[anotherpapercut]

I know several people who like LOVE seasons 5-7 (11th doctors run) and think the storylines and moffats writing are brilliant and I don't get it!!! what am I missing??? why does literally every single episode have the exact same stakes: Rory/Amy/the doctor is dead. forever. so dead. but wait!!! what if they aren't!!! why do so many of the explanations for why they're not actually dead feel so rushed like they were added at the last minute!! why does every single queer character act kind of weird and awkward about being queer!! why does the doctor casually say that women are inferior when no one's around!!! what the fuck!! hello!!!

[moominpapa]

con o’neill is a fucking amazing actor bro. i get why they had to do that arc for his character: it makes sense, narratively, and i do think the decision was done with grace. but boy will i fucking miss him being on that show bc he is just amazing. con and izzy. little bastards.

izzy got to say his truth and hes been accepting of his death since his first appearance. this was kinda overdue, narratively, but im glad he got to find who he is and was able to pass on a legacy. e.g., the prince guy’s reverence of him

[ozymoron]

i dont think i actually like shipping for like normal shipping reasons im pretty sure i only like ships cause i like seeing boys kiss and girls kiss especially if what they have going on is fucked up and weird

[crows-of-buckets]

I think I've decided that I want Ena to be one of the elves taken during the "plague" in denerim during the first blight. Assuming DAV takes place in 9:49, he would have been 8 or 9 I think I need to check my timeline. He's my Surana's cousin, and the younger brother of one of my other Rook's (Revari isn't rook in my canon worldstate, but they are still a Mercar. They left for Tevinter at around 13 when their magic developed). Anyways him being my Surana's cousin is probably something he himself never actually learns (sadly). He doesn't even really talk about being from Fereldan at all, and I can't really say for certain that he would even remember his last name before he became a crow. Plus, he transitioned (kept his name tho) and so did his only sibling, so the likelihood of them recognizing each other is so painfully low.

Anyways, one of the Tevinter mages in the alienage claimed Ena had the plague, he gets shipped off. I haven't decided whether he was bought by the crows or scouted after somehow escaping (this one is becoming far less likely the more I think on it); either way, he ends up in the crows by the time he's 9. He gets his face scar like right before joining, so the first few months are even worse.

His magic developed not long after, and tbh this is the only reason I think he even survived. He was never really good at fighting in regular combat, but he was pretty good at getting the fuck out of the way when someone was trying to kill him. I think the Crows take better care of their mages (I can't remember if this is canon or a head canon but whatever) because they're a better investment. (Even when they become abominations, as crows are known to do occasionally, I do think generally they receive "kinder" treatment)

He meets Viago somewhere around age 10 (they have around a 8-10 year age gap, so Viago would be 18-20. At least going off of Viago being 34 to 36 in Veilguard. Everyday I pray that bioware will release and actual timeline bc god I am tired of figuring this shit out 😭), and immediately decides that he is going to be loyal to this guy in particular. I don't know why he decides this, but he's like 10 so it was probably some stupid reasoning.

At first Viago is annoyed, but I think after a certain point his brain kicked in and he went "wait having another crow (even one so young) who is insanely loyal to me is an AMAZING investment on my end". Teia isn't around to be his moral compass, so at this time in his life at least 9/10 of his decisions are made to further his own goals. This is around when he starts actually taking an interest in Ena, and keeping him around as an investment. He starts teaching him poisons, and building up Ena's poison resistance. Ena is notoriously loyal as hell and twice as stubborn so Viago 100% plans on using that to his advantage. I think Ena's magic developed not too long after this so he immediately becomes more useful lmao

Depending on when Viago became Talon, I do think it may be possible that Ena was one of the first to become a full crow under his leadership. If Viago is ~30 in Eight Little Talons, he had to have been a Talon for a few years, so he was probably made one in his late 20s I think? Teia is mentioned being one of the younger talons, and she's ~28 in eight little talons I think, and I'm pretty sure she's been a Talon for a few years at this point. Anyways, assuming Viago became a talon between 26-28, Ena could have been one of the first full crows under his command, being made a crow between 16-18. However, timelines like this make my head hurt so this may be completely inaccurate lmao

Somewhere between Viago realizing Ena is a good investment and Ena becoming a full crow, Viago becomes annoyingly fond of his little protege. He ends up bailing him out of trouble FAR more often than he would like. Ena is painfully good at becoming the annoying younger brother figure in anyone's life, and Viago is NOT exempt from that.

[knaveofmogadore]

You ever have a customer with a legitimate problem but they're such an asshole that they extinguish the embers of empathy within you with their insolence?

[mbat]

hey taleblr did i ever say that i made P.I.E. in the sims (also katrina because i latched hard onto a character that was mentioned like one time)

[roaringheat]

Oh my fuckin god... the friend that deleted all his accounts and I was told was legit missing for this past half year is apparently in contact with my dad, who was the one who informed me in the first place, and neither him nor my sister bothered to tell me that this old friend that disappeared off the fuckin earth was actually alive jfc

[fappellmoan]

anyway. i am going to be SO incredibly livid and angry and throwing an absolute tantrum on thursday if i dont get good feedback on my script.

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

getting deadnamed for the first time in 2 years is so weird

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[stevie-petey]

growing pains

But you’re tired of pretending. “Why am I here, Steve?”  “I thought we already established it’s because you walked in the snow.”  He’s dodging. Avoiding the question and the truths that will come with it. “Steve.” Hissing his name is familiar, it feels more natural. This is how it should be between you. Anger, disdain, raw. “And there it is,” He winces. “The fighting begins. We lasted, what? Ten minutes? Merry Christmas to us.”

Summary: steve buys you shitty coffee five years after your breakup.

Rating: general, swearing

Warnings: fem! reader, use of y/n, exes!au, slight unhealthy relationship if u squint, ambiguous ending (kinda)

Words: 8k

Before you swing in: hi my dears ! heres a very sad/bittersweet coffee shop conversation with far too many flashbacks and miscommunication. yummy ! unintentionally made this a christmas fic, so the bleachers song merry christmas please dont call is very fitting lmao. enjoy !

-

A flurry of snow coats Hawkins. Christmas lights reflect off the pristine white as the quiet stills everything in the town. There are no cars that drive past you. Hardly anyone littering the sidewalk as your footsteps trace a path in the freshly fallen snow. In the small, rundown cafe there is only one other patron brave enough to face the winter cold. 

The bell above the door signals your arrival.

Steve looks up at you. 

The flush of cold air stains your cheeks a ruddy red, though his gaze tinges the hue pink. The blush gives away the fondness you hoped you had buried below your sternum; but the fondness is still there. It will always be there. 

Steve gestures silently, offering you the seat in front of him. He’s chosen a small table in the back of the room. Secluded. Private. But he doesn’t stand to greet you. 

You sit. The cold makes your body slow. Steve’s presence makes your posture stiff. Your hands remain folded in your lap. You don’t place them on the table, too reminiscent of the times he would reach across and interlace your fingers together. 

The deliberate act is small, your only defiance, but still, after all these years, Steve sees it for what it really is. You’re still exactly as he remembers. The corner of his lip twitches, hiding a smile that you still know the weight of. How it felt against your own lips. 

“The whole town is buzzing about a white Christmas. We haven’t gotten snow like this in years.” 

Inconsequential. Steve’s first words to you in five years are inconsequential. 

There are still flecks of snow on your clothes. A snowflake melts slowly on your scarf. You watch its demise. There is nothing you want to say to him. 

Steve shifts slightly. Clears his throat. You still make him nervous. “I wasn’t sure you’d still come.”

“I walked.” Your first words to Steve are inconsequential, too. 

“In all this snow?” His surprise is soft, bordering on amusement. He takes his coat off, and underneath is a cheesy holiday sweater that makes your throat clench. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You shake your head. “I like the cold.”

And then Steve smiles. Genuine, it stretches across his entire face. “Yeah,” a breathy laugh that echoes in your ears. “I remember.”

– 

“I can’t feel my legs.” Steve whines, lagging behind you as the two of you trek through the snow. You’re at the bottom of the hill, still a long way from the top. “How are you still alive?”

You’re flushed in excitement and youth. The apples of your cheeks match the pink hat that keeps sliding into your eyes. Planting your feet firmly into the snow, you continue to climb. “It’s not that cold.”

“It’s freezing–shit!” Steve slips on a patch of ice. His voice cracks as he yelps, and you giggle at his embarrassment. He glares at you. “Please don’t laugh at me. I’m miserable here, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come. I was perfectly happy going sledding alone.” You’re halfway up the hill now. The flimsy plastic tube you’re using to sled hangs loosely from your hand. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Steve scoffs. “God forbid I try to be romantic and go sledding with my girlfriend.”

Your cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink. It still feels weird, hearing him call you his girlfriend. The word is new, foreign, but the warmth that accompanies it is one that you hope you never get used to.

“Besides, who even goes sledding alone?” Steve continues, still pathetically behind you. “What if you got hurt? No good boyfriend should allow that to happen.”

You snort. “What, are you my knight in shining armor now?” Shifting low, you start scooping up some snow. “Is that what you want me to say?”

“All I’m saying is that I’m totally a saint.” 

You laugh, now packing the snow into your hands as you form a snowball. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Steve hasn’t noticed what you’re doing yet. He doesn’t know that in a matter of seconds you’ll cover his face in snow. Sneaking a glance at him, your breath catches.

There are snowflakes in Steve’s hair. A few kiss his cheeks, dancing along his freckles. The brown of his eyes glow warm ember in the white snow. His skin is pink, alive and pure. He’s beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful in a way that makes you ache.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Steve asks you, face wrinkling in confusion. 

You cough, embarrassed to have been caught. The snow in your hands starts to sting. The pain grounds you, clears your mind, and you try to pretend that the molasses in your bloodstream isn’t love. 

Throwing the snowball, it explodes in Steve’s face. He shrieks, sputtering at the cold shock. “Y/N!”

You laugh, loud and happily. Your ribs ache and your breaths escape your lungs in a burn that soothes you. Steve lunges toward you, hands finding your waist as he pulls you close. He grips you tightly, he can feel your laughter in his chest. 

“You’ll pay for that!” he buries his nose in your neck and you squeal, laughing even harder. Steve pulls you impossibly closer. He relishes in your warmth. He relishes in the way you squeal when he starts to tickle you. 

Warm. Everything about you is warm. 

You are sunshine against Steve’s skin. 

–

Someone else walks into the cafe, the sound of the bell echoes in the chasm between you and Steve. There are no more snowflakes on your scarf. The warmth of the cafe is stifling, although there is a comforting familiarity to it. 

“How are you?” 

Another inconsequential question, although you can’t fault Steve for it. He’s trying. More than you are, anyways. But what are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do, seeing your first love after five years of silence and absence? 

“Fine.” The response falls flat, mundane. Disinterested. Wincing, you really do try to sound as if you want to be here. “Good. I-I’ve been good.”

“Yeah?” Steve raises his eyebrow, leaning in. “I mean, I’m not surprised.”

Your shoulders tense. “What do you mean?”

Seeing your unease, Steve quickly explains himself. “Shit. That sounded ominous. I’m sorry,” he runs his fingers through his hair. The same way he used to do when he was seventeen. “What I meant is that Robin told me. About what you’ve been up to these last few years.”

Your shoulders drop. Of course Robin still talks to him about you. You suppose it’s only fair, seeing as how she tells you about him, too. She remained friends with you both after the breakup. She hadn’t wanted to take anyone’s side, and she’s kept true to that. 

“What has she told you?” 

It’s a real question. You know Robin would never tell Steve anything embarrassing or incriminating. But curiously gnaws at you. 

“Nothing bad, unfortunately.” Steve gently teases, but his prodding is only met with your uninterested gaze. He sighs, clears his throat. “She told me you moved to New York. Nearly screamed my ear off when your publishing deal got accepted. It’s pretty incredible.” 

Your fingers pick at the skin underneath your nails. “It’s only for one book.”

“Five years, and you still can’t accept a compliment.” 

“You’d be surprised by what can change in five years,” your eyes avoid his. “Is the coffee any good here?”

“It’s terrible,” Steve slides his mug over to you. Steam rises from the black liquid inside. “Milk and sugar. Hope it’s still how you like it.”

You take a sip, cringing at the taste. You’ve come to prefer your coffee black, bitter but rich. The coffee Steve has bought you is too sweet, but you drink more anyways. It gives you something to do. 

“I’ve been good, too. Thanks for asking.” Steve leans against his seat, placing his hands behind his head. He’s as coy as ever. The years haven’t made him humble. “I’m sure you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering.” You set the mug down. “I heard you made history being the youngest English teacher at Hawkins High.”

Steve’s mouth parts in shock. In another life, you pinch his lips together and kiss the tip of his nose. In another life, five years ago, you did.

But not this life. “Robin talks about you, too.”

“Of course she does,” Steve echoes your earlier thoughts. He leans back again, eyes never leaving your face. “Were you surprised? Steve Harrington. English teacher.”

The answer comes easily. “No.” 

“No?”

“No,” you twist the mug around. Steve stares at you and you wish he would stop. He’ll see through you, he’ll see the fondness and he’ll know everything you’ve tried to erase. “You were always interested in what I was reading. You didn’t hide it very well.”

Steve smiles to himself, his own fondness leaking over. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t.”

He could never hide anything from you. 

– 

You’re in the classics section of Hawkins’ library. You wanted to check out a few books they recently collected. The librarian has your personal landline. You’ve spent more and more time in the building, reading all of the greatest authors. 

Steve always comes with you.

“Look, Y/N. I adore you, but if there aren’t any ass-kicking spies or alien babes, then I’m not reading it.” He shoves the book you hold in front of him away. “What the hell is a Brontie, anyways?”

“It’s Bronte,” you poke Steve’s cheek. “And I really need you to stop pretending that you don’t know these authors. It’s gotta be exhausting.”

He grabs the hand poking his face and twists it, forcing you to spin and land against his chest. “I’m not pretending, sweetheart. I don’t know any of these names.”

Steve claims he comes to the library with you because he gets lonely without you, but you’ve caught him rifting through Albert Camus and Erich Fromm. He could spend hours paging through their works. 

But you’ll allow him to keep this one secret from you. 

“C’mon,” you laugh, tugging Steve’s arm towards a new section. “Help me find Fyodor Dostoevsky. I want to study the way he writes his characters’ inner monologues.”

“No way that’s a real name.”

You laugh again. “Just shut up and help me, please.”

Eventually you find Dostoevsky and you become engrossed in his words. They’re intricate and complex, yet there’s a simplicity and plainness that strikes you. You write down a flurry of notes, not wanting to forget a thing; one day you want to command words the way all the authors you’ve studied seemed to do. 

You’re so lost in the world Dostoevsky has built, that you don’t notice Steve’s absence until he returns again. 

“Hey, check this out.” He’s holding a book, his finger saving the line he wants to show you. “This Pablo Neruda dude was like, a total romantic. Wanna hear?”

You lean against the bookshelf, curious. “Are you going to read to me?”

The only response is Steve’s charming smile. He steps closer to you, your breath mixes with his. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving.’”

He closes the book, but he doesn’t move away. Your foreheads touch. 

“Love”. A word neither one of you has said until now. Until Steve read you a poem and uttered the word three separate times. 

He loves you, and you love him. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him. Steve kisses you back. 

– 

“Do you enjoy it?”

Steve drums his fingers on the table. “Enjoy what?”

“Being someone that kids look up to.”

He breathes out slowly. “I forgot how much you love asking heavy questions.”

You finally look at him. “You’re the one that asked to meet for coffee.”

“Fair point,” Steve scratches the back of his head. “Thank you, by the way. For agreeing.”

“I was in town.” You look away again. “The holidays. And the wedding, I guess. Nancy asked me to come.”

“I still can’t believe she got Byers to agree to a winter wedding.” Steve shakes his head, smiles to himself. “Anyways, to answer your shockingly emotional question: I do enjoy it. I love teaching. I love being someone that kids can come to. Is it terrifying? Absolutely. But selfishly, I like to think I’m good at it.”

Even though you don’t want to, you smile at him. “You’ve always been good with kids.”

Steve doesn’t expect your sincerity. The praise is small, a throwaway comment more than anything else, but it’s the nicest thing you’ve said to him in years. He’s suddenly shy, ducking his head. “I don’t know. Those little bastards were really difficult to handle.”

The little bastards being Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, and El. The kids you grew up with, a consequence of being neighbors with the Wheelers. One day there was a kid on your doorstep demanding you let him use your old scooter.

Mike had been only nine then, but he had been fierce and persuasive. After giving the scooter over, Mike forced you into his life. Then the rest of the party’s lives. 

Nancy came later, then Jonathan, and then, eventually, Steve. 

“They admired you.” You tell Steve, honest. “They still do.”

He blushes again. “You really think so?”

“I remember more than you think,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I remember everything, too.”

– 

The morning of the kids’ graduation, it’s a blur of packed cars and nervous excitement. Steve offered to drive everyone, giving the parents time to get situated and find seats at the high school. 

“Your car reeks.” Mike kicks Steve’s seat.

He glares at the kid. “Why didn’t you ride in Nancy’s car, then?”

“Her and Jonathan are gross.”

Lucas fixes his graduation cap. “They whisper to themselves a lot. It’s creepy.”

Max elbows him. “It’s because they’re in love, doofus.”

“Steve and Y/N are in love, and you don’t see them whispering to themselves.” Dustin points out, which you laugh at.

“I’ll be sure to never whisper to Steve with you guys around.”

Will pokes the back of your head. “Can you tell your boyfriend to drive faster? If we’re late, I think Hopper might actually kill him.”

“My dad would not kill Steve.” El corrects. “He would only hurt him. A lot.”

Steve pales slightly, stepping on the gas. “Alright. Guess we’re getting a speeding ticket, then.”

You end up arriving at the high school with a few minutes to spare. All the kids run out the car, throwing a quick thanks as they scatter. They’re gone in a heartbeat, a mass of green caps and gowns. 

“We’ll see you guys on stage!” You shout through the window, waving as they leave. 

“Remember how nervous we were when we graduated?” Steve asks you.

You shake your head fondly at the memory. “You wouldn’t stop sneezing. I had no idea you were a nervous sneezer until then. Robin thought it was the most embarrassing thing ever. I contemplated breaking up with you.”

“It’s a debilitating condition, Y/N.”

The graduation is long, but with six separate kids to listen for and cheer on, it passes quickly. When their names get called, you and Steve are the loudest ones who cheer. Robin calls you guys dramatic, but she screams her heart out when Dustin walks the stage. 

Nancy cries when Mike walks, and Jonathan, who had only just stopped crying after seeing Will walk, has to hold back his tears yet again as he consoles her. 

The five of you are a mess, and when the kids find you after graduation, you aren’t sure who starts running first. They swarm you, arms encase you and you hold onto them tightly. Will is crying, El can’t stop jumping, the kids are all a mix of emotions, yet they all remain fixated on Steve.

“Did you see the way I walked?”

“I waved at you! Did you see me?”

“You’re really loud when you scream, ya know that?”

“A poster would’ve nice. Just saying.”

All their eyes are on him. Their questions directed at him, eager to be answered. They seek Steve’s praise, like sunflowers following the sun’s rays. 

As you stand back, watching the way Steve is so loved by the kids, you fall in love with him all over again. 

– 

Steve picks at the frayed edges of his old jacket. It’s the same one he bought with you, back when winter in Hawkins was warm and yellow and light. Now everything is dull. Grey and bleak. 

“I never thought that you’d forget.” He acknowledges your hurtful words. He doesn’t like their implications. “I’d never think that.”

Steve’s clipped words make you defensive. Heat rises to your face. It makes your heartbeat spike. “There are a lot of things I thought you’d never do.”

He sucks in a breath. 

The cafe is quiet again. Your coffee remains untouched, cold. 

Steve finally tears his eyes from you, and the loss of his gaze feels colder than you expected it to. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To see his disdain for you on his pretty face, for him to hurt how you had. Isn’t that why you agreed to this?

The way Steve’s entire demeanor changes, how quickly his smile slips from his face, makes you question why you’re even here. Suddenly you want to take it all back. To mold his face into a happier one, get him to look at you again and trick yourself into believing that the tenderness in his eyes is real. 

“I’m sorry.” The apology comes out fast, the words mesh together, but it’s the best you can manage. “That… that was mean.”

“I think mean is fair.” Steve looks at you, his lighthearted smile is back, but it doesn’t shine like before. “Honestly, I’m relieved you’re being mean.”

You’re confused. Everything he does confuses you. “Is that why you asked me to coffee? Because you wanted me to be mean to you?”

“Partially.” He sips your discarded coffee and quickly spits it out. He wipes his mouth, gagging. “Jesus, that’s fucking rancid. I don’t even know why I did that. I hate coffee, and it’s even worse when it’s cold.”

He’s making a whole show of this. The way Steve talks to you, the questions he’s asking and the way he responds to whatever you tell him. He’s trying to recreate something that isn’t there anymore. Treating your time in the coffee shop together as if you’re two friends catching up.

But you’re tired of pretending. “Why am I here, Steve?” 

“I thought we already established it’s because you walked in the snow.” 

He’s dodging. Avoiding the question and the truths that will come with it.

“Steve.” Hissing his name is familiar, it feels more natural. This is how it should be between you. Anger, disdain, raw.

“And there it is,” He winces. “The fighting begins. We lasted, what? Ten minutes? Merry Christmas to us.”

Fed up, you slam your chair back and stand. If Steve wants to evade every question and act as if this is all some giant joke, then he can go fuck himself. 

The sudden motion makes Steve jump, but he quickly stands up with you when he realizes that you’re leaving. “Shit, wait–”

Steve’s hand grazes yours and you flinch away, reeling back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Y/N…” He stands still, the venom in your voice cementing him to the ground. In all the time he’s known you, you’ve never rejected his touch. Bitterly, he thinks that you were right about what you said when you first arrived at the cafe.

A lot can change in five years. 

You press the back of your hand to your forehead, trying to calm yourself down. Even though there’s no one else in the shop, you still don’t want to cause a scene. Not here. Not like this. 

“This was a mistake.” You swallow down bile. Steve still manages to get such a vulgar rise out of you, and you hate it. “At Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding, we won’t speak to one another. We won’t ruin their day, and you can sit with Robin. I don’t care. We can just pretend that we don’t–”

Your words die in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to finish them. 

“That we don’t what, Y/N?” Steve knows exactly what you mean to say. He narrows his eyes at you, pushes you to lay the final blow. 

Your breath stutters. Your body is cold. You may still make Steve nervous, but he still makes you nervous as well. He can still cut through you viciously in a way only someone who has truly loved you can. 

He stands before you, begging. “Say it.”

You’ve always been weak for him. “That we don’t hate each other.”

But your words are meaningless. As if you could ever hate each other. 

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “The one thing I can’t do when it comes to you is hate you.”

“Steve–” You want to take it all back. You shouldn’t have said it. You don’t know why you even said it, but you did.

“I can go five years without hearing your voice. I can wake up without you next to me. I can spend the rest of my life regretting that I lost you.” Steve doesn’t move, he doesn’t come near you. He’s hurt and he’s in pain and you don’t know how to be the one to help him anymore. “But what I can’t do, the only thing I can’t do, is hate you.”

–

The bay window caught your eye first. Then it was the rich brown wood floors, and then the garden that overlooks Lover’s Lake. Inside the apartment there are vintage tiles that you adore and the baby-blue walls make you feel faint.

The home Steve finds for the two of you is, unsurprisingly, perfect. 

“Do we really get to live here?” You ask, breathless as you wander through the empty hallways and bedroom. Never before have you had such endless space to yourself. It feels very adult, very final, and you wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to experience this first with than Steve.

“We better get to live here.” Steve huffs, setting down another box. You tried offering to help, but he scoffed at the idea and told you to admire the apartment instead. “The deposit was fucking expensive.”

Your fingers brush over the cream white curtains. They’re soft beneath your touch. “At least your dad was kind enough to pay it.”

“And if by ‘kind enough’, you mean ‘wanted his son to move out already’, you’d be right.”

“Same difference.”

Steve laughs and the sound echoes through the empty room that you know you’ll have years together to fill. You already have a million things you want to purchase for the apartment. Steve’s only request had been that you make the apartment feel like a home.

As if anywhere with Steve doesn’t already feel like a home. 

Later in the night you order pizza, starving and exhausted from moving. There’s no table for you and Steve to sit at. No chairs to rest on. You eat your first meal in your new home on the floor, surrounded by boxes and laughter. 

It’s perfect. 

“While I’m grateful for Mrs. Wheeler for giving us her spare bedding and all,” Steve wraps the blanket tighter around the two of you. The bed beneath you is lumpy and old, the only furniture that came with the apartment, but a bed is a bed. “I feel weird sleeping in her sheets.”

You press your nose against Steve’s neck, feeling your bones sag with relief. “She’s hot. I’d sleep in her sheets any day.”

Steve chokes on his spit, falling into a coughing fit while you giggle hysterically. He hits his chest, tries to suck air back in, and you’re laughing so hard there’s tears in your eyes. 

“You can’t just say that!” He sputters, still coughing.

“I know you were thinking it!” You giggle again, your smile presses against Steve’s cheek. His body is warm and soft and he smells like home; it's addicting. He’s still coughing when you kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “Can you stop dying already? I’m trying to kiss you here.”

Steve wraps his arms around you and throws his body on top, smushing you beneath him. You squeal, giggling even harder now as he litters your skin with feathery kisses. “You’re trying to kiss me, huh?”

His nose runs down your cheek. Down across your forehead, to the tips of your ears. He kisses every inch of skin he can reach. “I don’t think you’re doing much kissing here, Y/N.” Steve kisses your eyebrow. His lips skim your chin, they linger in your laugh lines as endless laughter pours from you. 

“It-it tickles!” More laughter, you try to shove Steve away, but he places all his weight against you and kisses the apples of your cheeks. His fingers curl around your waist, nails digging in softly. He has you right where he wants you. 

“Kiss me,” he breathes into you. Over and over he repeats himself, kissing you with every enunciation. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.”

Steve begs you and you ache. He never has to ask you. You would do anything for him. 

You tilt your head, find his lips, and you get lost in each other. He kisses you slowly, intentionally. With a softness that makes you shiver. He whispers how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and the syrup in your lungs simmers.

“I love you,” you murmur, lips kissing his chest. “I think you’re my favorite person in the world.” 

A childish praise, but it’s everything to Steve.

– 

Steve orders you another coffee. Black this time, no sugar. The barista brings the cup over when it’s ready, the steam the only source of warmth between you and him. 

Snow falls outside and Steve hasn’t been able to look at you since you sat back down. 

You’re not entirely sure why you’re still here. Neither one of you talk. There is no more disingenuous small talk between you. No more forced smiles. Polite questions about how the other has been.

All there that remains between you and Steve is the absence of what was. 

“Robin said we’d only last five minutes.” 

You remember the surprise on her face when you told her you’d accept Steve’s offer for coffee. She didn’t think you’d say yes, and the surprise quickly morphed into skepticism. She placed her book down, patted your hand, and told you good luck.

Steve laughs, short and staccato. “She has such shit faith in us. We’re nearing twelve minutes now.”

“We’re stubborn.” The coffee is disgusting even without the excess sweetness. Steve is right. The coffee here is truly horrible. 

“If I remember correctly, you’ve always been the more stubborn one.” He isn’t mean when he says this. More observant, stating a fact.

You set the coffee down. “And if I remember correctly, you hit your head a lot when we were kids.”

A small smile. “Which would mean?”

“That it’s possible you don’t remember anything correctly.” You tug at your scarf. “Maybe I wasn’t as stubborn as you’re remembering.”

Steve laughs this time, a real laugh that melts the ice that froze over moments ago. “Whenever we argued, you never let me get a word in. I’ll never forget that. I would’ve found it impressive, if it weren’t directed at me.”

Snippets of memories flash through your mind. You and Steve hardly argued throughout your entire relationship, but when you did, the fallout was always scattered pieces. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m stubborn.” You say weakly, still not quite ready to admit otherwise.

“I’d argue with you, but I was hoping we’d make it to fifteen minutes.” Steve takes your coffee, sips it again and cringes like he did before. Only he doesn’t say anything this time. 

“Is there a prize if we make it to fifteen?”

He smiles into the coffee. “Possibly.”

Silence again.

Steve keeps the mug in his hands, using its warmth to soothe his cold fingers. Years ago, he would use the heat of your hands to warm him. But your hands remain folded in your lap and you no longer want his touch. 

The silence eats at you. You bite your lip, twist your fingers together. You don’t know why you stayed, but you don’t know why Steve stayed, either.

“I was pretty stubborn, wasn’t I?” 

Steve looks at you. His eyes shine for a brief moment. “Maybe a little.”

– 

Shortly after moving into your apartment, you started writing. After years of reading other people’s stories, you felt that it was time to write your own. But finding the story was difficult. Every night you stared at your blank pages, willing them to fill with the words you were unable to write. 

As for Steve, he started picking up spare shifts at the local diner. He hated being a waiter. He thought it was degrading, but as a twenty-two year old with no college degree or work experience, it was all he could do. 

Money was tight, you were both starting to feel the weight of truly being on your own. You weren’t just two kids anymore. There were real responsibilities now. Grappling with your futures rather than imagining them.

And then one day you got a phone call that changed everything. 

“I can’t miss this interview!”

“And I can’t just leave work in the middle of the day to drive you, Y/N.” Steve sighs deeply over the phone. You can practically envision the way he pinches the bridge of his nose and tugs at his hair. It’s grown long. Longer than it’s ever been before. You like it this way. 

You glance at your watch and curse, frustrated tears burning your eyes. “Steve, please. This could make or break my entire future.”

“Sweetheart, I understand that, but if I leave work early, I’m getting fired.”

“You don’t know that!” You need him to say yes. You need him to drop everything for you and drive you to Bedford so that you can meet with a literary agent and discuss your work. 

It all happened so fast. One moment you were sending yet another draft of short story ideas to random agents. The next, you’re getting a phone call offering an interview in a town an hour away from Hawkins.

None of it felt real. That is, until the catch fell against you: the agent can only meet today and you don’t have a car. 

“David explicitly told me that if I leave work early one more time, my ass is grass.” Steve rubs his face, exhausted. He wants to help you, he wants you to finally get your big break. You’re far too talented for Hawkins, you deserve to be somewhere better; but the reality is that you can’t afford it right now. “Can’t someone else drive you?”

“I already called everyone else.” Your face is hot from anxiety. “Robin. Nancy. Jonathan. Hell, even Mike and the kids! But no one can take me and I have to be there in two hours.”

“Y/N…” 

Your head falls against the wall. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Steve’s heart clenches. He sucks in a breath. “I know that, okay? I-I do. But I can’t afford to lose this job. We’re already behind on rent, we still owe my dad for the deposit–”

“But you can always get another job!” You exclaim, losing whatever grasp you have left of your sanity. “I mean, Jesus, Steve. You’re just a waiter.”

The line is silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

His tone is quiet, it laces guilt into your veins. 

“I-I just meant that there’s a shitload of restaurants in Hawkins,” you’re rambling now, regretting everything. You shouldn’t have called. You shouldn’t have said what you did. But now it’s too late and you’re in too deep. Letting out a breath, your lips tremble. “But there’s only one literary agent who wants to meet with me.”

There’s yelling in the background. Steve mumbles something to someone, you think you hear David yelling at him to get back to work. Muffled rustling, followed by a string of curses.

“I gotta get back to work.” Steve says curtly, not even giving you a chance to respond before he’s already hanging up the phone.

The dial tone rings in your ear. 

You never make it to your interview.

Steve gets home late that night. He walks past you, he doesn’t acknowledge you besides the slam of the bedroom door. 

– 

“I never apologized to you.”

Steve sets the mug down. He doesn’t ask you what you mean. “No, you didn’t.”

You swallow. “I… I’m really sorry, Steve.”

He shrugs. It was a long time ago. He’s forgotten the sting of your words. The marks they left have long since faded. “It was your dream.”

“But you were more than just a waiter. Hell, you were the only reason we didn’t lose the apartment.” You rub the back of your neck, relieving the tension that knots it. “God, I was so fucking naive. I’m sorry for not realizing sooner, for not appreciating everything you did for us.”

Steve shrugs again. “We were just kids.”

The coffee you drank suddenly sinks in your stomach. 

We were just kids.

Sometimes you forget that your relationship with Steve had been your childhood. The two of you met when you were fifteen, fell in love when you were seventeen, and fell apart when you were twenty-three. 

You’d been so young together. The mistakes you made, the hurt you caused, were childish gashes with bullet-sized exit wounds. 

“We were just kids, weren’t we?” The nostalgia in your voice surprises even you. 

A fond smile ghosts Steve’s face. It’s barely there, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. “Young and in love. Now we’re just old.”

“At least we aged well.”

Steve raises his eyebrow at you. “Was that a compliment, Y/N?”

You smile, coy. “Who said anything about you? I was referring to myself.”

Steve scoffs, light hearted. You expect him to retaliate, to tease you how you’re teasing him. Instead, his gaze softens. He leans forward, drawn into you as he always is, and lowers his voice. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

Years separate you and Steve. It’s been nearly a decade since love first tied you to each other. There used to be a knot, tied into something intricate, small, yet lovely, that connected you to Steve. 

And yet, with one sentence, the strings come together again.

“I still haven’t forgotten,” you fall back in your seat, away from Steve. “How you hurt me.”

He mirrors your body language, moving away as well. “And what about how you hurt me?”

You cross your arms. Steve crosses his. Staring at one another, a stalemate is reached. The memories that tie you together are both your vice and your virtue. The love is still remembered, it’s still warm to the touch, but so is the hurt. 

Robin would call you both childish if she were here right now. You can practically hear her now, annoyance in her voice as she rolls her eyes at the staring contest unfolding. She’s always resented how stubborn you both are.

“Why did you call me?”

Steve inhales sharply. He knows he has to answer the question. It’s only fair that he gives you an explanation for why he decided to call you at three in the morning the Friday before your plane was due to arrive in Hawkins’ small airport for Christmas and a wedding you both were invited to. 

But he can’t. Not yet, at least.

“If it makes me look any better, I called Robin first.” Steve forces a laugh out. “Granted, she told that if I called you that I’d probably die. But still. Blame her.”

Everything unravels after that.

“You never showed up.”

“Y/N.”

A crack to the surface, followed by a fist of anger that shatters everything. “You promised me you’d be there.”

“I was dick, I know–”

“Do you know how humiliated I was?” Steve winces, and his shame only enrages you more. “How utterly shitty it was when all our friends, our families, asked me where you were, and I couldn’t answer them?”

“Y/N, please just let me explain–”

“No.” The mug spills over as you hit the table, standing up furiously. You’re crying. You don’t remember the tears building. “You don’t get to call me in the middle of the night, buy me dogshit coffee, and then spoon feed me shitty excuses! You were my boyfriend, I wanted to marry you, and you abandoned me.”

“Is the coffee really that bad?”

Your jaw clenches. Steve rubs his neck, looking everywhere but at you. He’s trying to be funny. His first words to you in five years were inconsequential, and now he’s trying to use humor to ease the sting of guilt that he feels seeing you.

The decision is an easy one. 

“Goodbye, Steve.”

His hand grips yours before you can even turn away. Startled by his sudden touch, you don’t pull back. Not this time, at least. You’re frozen, staring at Steve as he stares at you. He’s pale. His chest heaves and there’s terror in his eyes.

“Don’t.” It’s all he can say to you.

“Let me go.” But still you don’t pull away.

Let us go. Please. 

“I…” He blinks, almost winces to himself. Steve doesn’t know how to tell you the truth. Not anymore. Not like how he used to. But you’re pulling away again and he’s just gotten you back and he can’t lose you. Not again. “I resented you.”

Your back straightens. “Excuse me?”

“I-I know how bad it sounds, but if you just–” Steve gestures behind him, tries to sit you back down. But you don’t move. His eyes plead with you. “Y/N, please.”

He looks so akin to the boy you once knew. The resemblance twists the tendons in your chest, forces the air out of your lungs. You don’t move, but you don’t leave, either.

Steve accepts all that you’ll give him. 

– 

The home you built with Steve loses its warmth. Lazy Sunday mornings cease to exist. He doesn’t hold you at night. Dates go unplanned, dinners eaten alone. Laughter dies and you stop waiting for Steve to come home. Everything stills. Lost in a time capsule that was once your dream. 

Winter comes and the snow that blankets Hawkins softens the dull ache of the distance that’s built between you and Steve. He starts taking night classes at a local community college and you spend your nights writing. 

The first story you write is about a lonely barn owl who hops through dwindling branches trying to find its mate. The creature calls out for someone, its wails echoing through the deserted forest that once was alive with creation. 

A snowflake that gets lost in a storm that it created becomes your second story. Its frail, lithe body too transparent to be anything other than alone. 

Then you write about a dandelion that mourns for its seeds that have been cruelly torn from its body. 

Over and over you write about loss. How cold it leaves a person, the emptiness that can never quite be filled. 

In the end, it’s this sense of loss that gives you everything you’ve ever wanted, yet leaves you with nothing to show for it. 

“I sent my writing to a short story show. I got in.”

Steve unbuttons his work shirt. He worked a double shift at the restaurant, but spares you a tired smile. “That’s great.”

The praise is small, but the rarity of it makes it feel like gold upon your skin. Cheeks flushed, you smile back at him shyly. “Thank you.”

Steve goes back to changing out of his clothes and you’re left to deal with the silence that always seems to follow you these days. Your feet carry you to the bed, sitting down gently as you watch him. He doesn’t shy away from your gaze, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, either.

“The show is in two weeks. Christmas Eve.”

“Oh,” Steve pauses in the closet’s doorway. His hand rests on an old sweater you got him when you first started dating. He pulls out a different one instead. “Well. I already took the day off, so I’ll come.”

You try not to focus on the fact that he makes attending sound like an obligation. A dull chore he has to complete. 

“Robin already promised she’d be front row. Jonathan and Nancy, too.” You get up, stand behind Steve, rest your head on the back of his neck and encircle your arms around him. He stiffens at the touch, so do you. But you can’t let him go. “I think even some of the kids will come. And my parents, obviously.”

“Sounds like you’ll have an entire crowd devoted to you.”

“Yeah, but I only really want you there.” You whisper, vulnerable.

Steve sucks in a breath, releases it. He doesn’t say anything else. 

The next two weeks you read your collection of short stories aloud for hours on end. You rehearse how to present them, the right cadence and intonations. How to make the loneliness heavier, the serenity sweeter. You don’t let Steve listen, claiming you want to surprise him alongside everyone else the day of the show.

Later, you’ll come to understand that you had been afraid of how he’d react. If he’d even react at all. 

The show is a haze of people and praise. Robin brings you flowers, Jonathan takes pictures of you with all the kids. Dustin surprises you with an old leather journal he found for you to write all your ideas in and El hands you a ribbon to bind it. 

Your mother cries and your father hugs you warmly. Mrs. Wheeler and Nancy bring Christmas cookies and organize the large audience you’ve built for yourself in the seats provided by the show. It takes two entire rows to seat everyone you love. 

Robin saves a seat for Steve. He’s late.

The night is spent listening to brilliant writers reading their stories to a small, but kind, audience. There are a total of eight featured writers. You’re scheduled to read your writing last.

After the second writer finishes, you look anxiously over at the audience and bite your lip when you still don’t see Steve. The fifth writer goes on and your nails are bloody from picking at them. Mike murmurs something to Robin, who shakes her head and nervously shifts in her seat, eyes never leaving the empty seat next to her. 

The seventh writer shares a story about newfound love and its warmth. 

Nancy finds your gaze and the pitying look in her eyes makes your nausea even worse. 

You stand in front of a mass of people who lean into every word you read aloud. The seat next to Robin remains empty.

Steve never comes.

And it’s the last time you ever wait for him.

–

“I really was proud of you, you know.” Steve says softly, regretfully. “Robin told me you won an award later that night.”

“I did.” The award had been your ticket out of Hawkins. It got you money, connections with publishing agents. You moved to New York not even a week later.

Steve looks down. “I should’ve been there.”

You don’t bother to agree with him. You don’t want to coddle him, lessen the guilt he feels for how cruelly he hurt you. You’ll never forget the pit that formed in your stomach when you realized he wasn’t coming.

“I regret what I did. Every single day I wish I had gone.”

“You resented me instead, apparently.” Your laugh is cruel, cold.

Steve sits back down numbly, his body falls and the seat beneath him catches it. He places his hands on the table, slowly, defeated. He looks up at you, allows himself to finally confess everything. “I resented how easy everything seemed for you. I mean, you were making a name for yourself while I waited shitty tables and slept through grueling night courses.”

You clench your fists, still refusing to sit down. “And that gave you a right to diminish my own accomplishments?”

“Nothing makes sense when you’re twenty-three.”

Not an omission of truth, but rather acknowledgement of how differently you see the world when you’re young. Though you want more from Steve, you accept this. In a way, you suppose he’s right. 

“I didn’t go to the show because I was scared of how much I was falling behind.” Steve doesn’t look away from you. He’s laying all his cards on the table, open and waiting for you to read them. “We were in over our heads, but somehow only I was the one drowning.”

Rent, bills owed, grappling with adulthood while still shedding your adolescence. Loneliness while being together. Careers that hurt and dreams that struggled for breath. You and Steve had been drowning together. Until one day you weren’t. 

Steve drinks the coffee, he doesn’t pressure you to sit down again. Instead, he sighs. “I let your words get into my head. In your mind I was just a waiter, and I felt that nothing I was doing with my life was worthwhile. The only thing I had done right by the time I was twenty was having you love me.”

The anger that was quick to rise is also quick to dim. There isn’t any left for you to fight. 

Finally, you sit. You take the coffee from Steve and the now cold liquid is a reminder of how much time has passed. “The age old question: do actions speak louder than words?”

Did what I say justify what you did? Or did they cause each other, creating a cycle that we can never escape? 

You won’t forgive him, but you understand him. Steve was hurting just as much as you were, only his hurt came from your own insecure and unsure words. You told him he was just a waiter because you were scared all you’d ever be was an unknown writer. The weight of your future made you scared, the uncertainty of it all overwhelmed you and made you cruel. 

Steve had fallen victim to the same fate.

“Robin told me it was growing pains.” Steve says. “What happened between us. It was all just growing pains.”

Begrudgingly you smile. Your cards are on the table as well. “You called me to discuss growing pains?”

The crinkle of Steve’s smile warms the cold cafe. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Tell me, then. Are we done growing?” You lean forward, allow your body to be near Steve’s again and the buzz of the proximity sets your skin on fire. He breathes in sharply. He hasn’t been this close to you in what’s felt like a lifetime. 

Steve leans forward too. You can smell his cologne, his eyes still shine how you remember them. His face is the same, though weathered with age and experiences you no longer know about. You count the moles that scatter his face, heart thumping wildly when you realize you still remember how many there are.

He’s still so beautiful. 

You’re weak for Steve. Your bones still remember the weight of his love.

“I don’t think we’ll ever be done.” Steve sinks even closer, nose almost bumping your cheek. You hold your breath, body humming. 

Breathless, you ask him, “then where does that leave us?”

Steve pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. He studies your face, the familiar angles and peaks of your nose. Your eyes, how they’re still his favorite color. Your hair is the same, maybe a little shorter now, and your perfume still the warm vanilla that reminds him of home. 

You’re still the girl Steve fell in love with when he was a kid. He’s still the boy you fell in love with when you were a child. There is still hurt, memories you both want to forget, but there is love within it. Young love can be formed anew, if someone lets it. 

“Together.” Steve finally says. “It leaves us together.” 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

⌑ please feel free to like, reblog, and comment. i adore hearing from you guys :)

[sowhat-whynot]

Boyfriend tag!

request: “maybe do our own version of doing his makeup like mandy did w martin?”

a/n: this request had a few ideas in one btw also this is my first lil story on here so go easy on me, queens.

bf!hamzah x fem reader

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 ꩜ .ᐟ

Being a youtuber was fun cuz you got to come up with your own ideas and no one could stop you so naturally, you wanted to piss Hamzah off a bit. You had asked him to come film a ‘boyfriend tag’ video with you but there was something he didn’t know…that you’d also be doing his makeup while answering questions.

filming…

“Hi loves! Welcome back to my channel today I have someone special with me, my boyfriend” you say excitedly.

“Hi everyone! I’m so pumped to be on here” Hamzah says, pumping his fist a little.

“Why dont you tell em what we’re doing today” you say with a smirk.

“She’s gonna give me that hawk tuah on cam!!” Hamzah giggles.

“Hamzah what the hell is wrong with you” you look at him in disgust.

“I’m sorry…so, we’re doing a boyfriend tag and this is basically for y/n’s viewers to kinda get to know me since I might pop into frame from time to time and then you guys are gonna comment ‘who is that fine sexy man in the background’ and you’ll know it’s me!” Hamzah explains.

“You explained that perfectly but I have a surprise for you” Hamzah look a bit confused.

“I’m gonna make you look beautiful and do your makeup, like I’ve always wanted to!!!”

“Are you serious” He stares at the camera.

“Yes, because one day Hamzah was watching me do my makeup and asked ‘how do ya know how to do that’ and today’s your lucky day, babe. You’re gonna find out” you explain.

“You know what whatever” Hamzah gave in.

-

You face towards your boyfriend to apply foundation with a brush while asking a few questions you came up with.

“Hamzah tell the viewers you name and birthday”

“Is this a joke?” He laughed, not believing that this was the whole point of the video.

“Just answer bruh. The viewers wanna know!” You say as you blend the foundation into his skin.

“Hi i’m Hamzah and i was born on March 5th, 2002”

“Ok, next question is ‘describe your high school self in 5 words’”

“Hot, cool, goofy, got bitches” He proudly answered.

“You know what..hell yeah! Except for the last one i know you got no girls and they probably all ran away from you boi”

“Next question, y/n”

You continued on with the question and you were the happiest girl alive giving your boyfriend the makeover of his life. You smiled while applying some of your pretty pink blush on his cheeks. You two got so distracted from goofing around it made it hard to take the youtube video seriously.

“No way it takes this long to apply all of this. You girls do this everyday??” He asked, appreciating your hard work.

“Yeah but honestly it’s not about how long it takes, it’s about how gorgeous you’re gonna look at the end. Like a pretty princess”

“Oh my god” Hamzah turns his head away from you.

“Look at me Hamzah i still have more questions” your hand reaches to his chin making him look at you.

“Next question is ‘do you remember our first date’” you ask while applying press powder on his face.

“Of course I do! It was a fun picnic date and I gave you a kitty plushy as a gift and we ate yummy food and I couldn’t take my eyes off you, i still can’t, you’re just so beautiful. Even the dress you wore. It’s forever engraved in my mind” His words are so genuine it makes your heart melt.

“Aww babe that’s actually so sweet i love you” you practically look at him with heart eyes.

“Okay is the makeup almost done i wanna see”

“You ruined the moment..yeah i just gonna curl your lashes and put on a lippie”

“I don’t know what you just said but please do it fast” he impatiently said.

“Hamzah don’t move your eye im gonna curl it”

“What da hell is that tool!” He yelled.

“Bro bear with me and do as i say” you gently clamped his lashes and apply mascara on him.

You added some finishing touches: eye glitter, eyeliner, and a glossy lip. You turn to the camera and giggle a bit.

“Is it bad? Can i see y/n! Stop laughing” Hamzah said.

“Guys i think i did a beautiful job. Look at it!!! The eyes are so cute” You grabbed the camera and did a close up shot.

You prop the camera back on the tripod and grabbed a mirror to reveal the final look to him.

“Okkk now look” You handed the mirror to Hamzah.

“Holy shit y/n…i look different” he gasps as he touches the eye makeup.

“You’re giving Hamzah Charles” you laughed.

“Honestly guys she did a good job and i think i’m into boys now” he said to the camera.

“Okay i’m ending this video” you quickly say.

You did your usual outro and Hamzah just smiled while you did so. You turned your camera off and giggled at Hamzah. He gave a confused laugh, not really sure what was so funny.

“Now we’re gonna do a photo shoot” you jump in excitement.

“Are you serious!”

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 ꩜ .ᐟ

Hope yall enjoyed hehehiehehe & keep requesting ideas 💕

[amoressb]

☆ LOWKEY

pairings : childhood bsf!riki x reader ; friends to lovers

synopsis : in which you and riki have been best friends since you guys were in kindergarten. youre both now in your last year of high school and with all that time together, people would think that you guys were bound to end up falling for each other, right? well, that seems to only be the case for riki. hes fallen in love with you after all this time, especially since you guys tend to flirt constantly, but he knows you dont feel the same. right? either way, he doesnt want to risk losing you so he tries to keep his love for you on the lowkey. will it work?

☆.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.☆

hes making moves

smau + written

previous | masterlist | next

putting his phone away, he focused on getting to school. he was only 3 minutes away anyways. he couldnt believe he woke up late even with having his alarm put on. hes heartbroken he couldn’t walk you to school or your first class but he can walk you to the rest so he guesses its fine.

on the way, he started thinking of where hes gonna take you today. “oo i should buy her some flowers, that would be good first hint right??” he thought. either way even if it wasnt a good hint, he was still gonna buy you flowers. maybe moves will happen naturally but theres one thing he wants to make sure he does at the end of their ‘date’. he couldnt stop smiling at the thought.

making his way to class, he spots you through the doors window. you looked so pretty all focused on the teacher and making sure youre taking notes. he started feeling butterflies in his stomach just by looking at you and also remembering hes gotta ask you out.

entering class, he makes his way quietly to his seat next to you. turning over, you spot riki placing his stuff down and getting out things he needed. he turned to you with a smile and you both said hi at the same time which caused you both to start giggling quietly. “i already took notes so ill just give them to you after school okay?” you look over at him only to see him staring at you. “what?” you chuckle confused looking away for a second. “hm? oh nothing um about after school, i was wondering if you wanted to go out?” he rubs his hand on the back of his neck. he seems nervous? “yeah of course!” you smile. “okay perfect ill pick you up at your house then by 4?” he questions. “yeah ill be ready!” you nod.

“btw since we’re gonna go out, ill give you what i was gonna give you when you come pick me up” you grin. “aw cmon why not now” he sulks moving closer. “nope itll stay a little surprise till then” you look away cheekily smiling. he just moved closer to you and continues begging for you to give him the little gift. “riki-“ you were interrupted by the teacher calling out you and his name. “ni-ki y/n, do i need to separate you two..again?” he looks at you two with a straight face already used to you two goofing around with each. “no sir” you both say at the same time and once the teacher turns away you both turn to each other giggling like little kids. just get together already..

coming out if the flower shop, now on his way to your house, riki was getting more and more nervous about how the rest of the day could play out. would you enjoy the day? could something go wrong? he knows he shouldnt worry as he know thats what you always tell him. today will go perfect and hopefully by the end of it he could have given enough hints that he likes love you.

the plan for today was to take you to a little cafe he knows you wanted to go to then maybe an arcade? then end off the night with just a night walk near the lake and look at the city lights then take you home. oh he couldnt wait he was genuinely so excited but still slightly nervous of course.

riki was now standing in front of your door. he took a deep breath and rung your doorbell. putting the flowers in front of his face and once you opened the door you said his name in a confuse yet excited manner, “riki?!” he moved the flowers to the side and his head to the other side and smiled widely. “hi pretty, these are for you m’lady” he hands you the flowers bowing a little and that makes you let out a chuckle at his actions. “aaand these are for you handsome” you said taking out the spiderman keychain you had bought him the other day and hand it to him with a smile. “i bought it the day i hung out with jake and look were matching now!” you bring out your matching keychain attached to you bag. “i love you.” riki let out on accident in a daze. “what.?” you look at him confused genuinely not hearing what he said. “huh oh nothing i said nothing haha..” he quickly realized what he did and tried to play it off which worked. “anyways um lets go yeah?” he points behind him. you nod and he starts leading the way.

after a couple of minutes, you guys finally arrived to the cafe. once there, you both order your drinks and whatever you wanted to eat and went to go sit down. you guys started talking about some things as well as what you think your plans will be for winter break next week. but what you didnt notice was the gaze riki had on you the whole time. honestly you thought he was just really into what you were saying and just letting you talk and he nodded from time to time taking sips from his drinks. in reality riki was hearing you..he was just more focused on you. all around being the ‘you can talk my ear off’ kind if guy as long as he can just hear and look at you the whole time. ever since he started realizing his feeling, its been harder to look away from your beauty. this opportunity right now gave him time to really take it in. you couldnt tell but he was looking at you with nothing but love and adoration.

you guys finished up at the cafe and started making your way to the arcade. it was nice that it was all walking distance, so it gave you more time to really be with each other, as if you guys arent always with each other. at the arcade, you guys had an absolute blast. although for the most part riki won most, if not all the games, but like i said you had fun. what was really cute, was the dedication he had to get you this one specific stuffed animal you wanted. after many tries and lots of quarters, he finally got it and handed it to you. “for my beautiful girl” he handed it to you the same way he handed you the flowers and this made your face heat up a bit. all this name calling was doing something to you but you being oblivious to everything, you brushed it off.

now you guys were just walking around the lake taking in the sights when you feel something grab your hand. you look to your side and see that it was not other than riki. this action that he did made your cheeks heat up even more. thank goodness it was dark outside, so he couldnt catch your face looking like what it was. even though your heart was beating like crazy on the inside, on the outside, you make sure to look calm and collected and continued to take the view. riki on the other hand, couldnt bear to look over to you. worried youre looking at him in a weird way. this was part of his ideas anyway, but actually doing it, he felt his heart jump out of his chest. eventually he turned over to you just to see you calm and looking over the lake. how are you so calm? hes feeling all giddy inside and you? how was he going to do what he was going to do next if this is how hes feeling by just holding your hand?

still hand in hand, making your way home was sad for both of you. you both didnt want the night end. both making their way to your door, riki pulled on your hand gently to make you turn to him. “i had a really fun time with you today and i hope we can do it again soon like this. yk not like I usual hang outs” he states using his other hand to rub the back of his neck. “yeah me too. i loved it. it was very relaxing” you smiled swaying the hand that was holding onto his slightly. “im gonna get going now. msg when you get home okay?” you state. “okay i will” and right there is when riki took his chance and leaned in to give you a simple yet sweet kiss on the cheek. “goodnight pretty” he smiles at you sweetly and begrudgingly lets go of your hand and starts walking away. “goodnight riki” you yell a bit, finally after you stood in shock for a second. your face was so red people would think its because of the cold but no. it was all riki, that..cute..sweet boy named..riki. you smiled softly at the thought.“i just did that omg” riki thought. he honestly couldnt be more proud of himself. he couldnt believe he stayed calm after doing all that because in reality his knees felt weak. he might just drop right then and there. overall he thinks he did pretty good. he went home with the biggest smile on his face. he hopes to be able to do this again.

☆.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.☆

taglist - @ruth-odyssey @kyuremp3 @heartheejake @heenzie @annoyingbitch83 @getoxo @sunooluuvr @moony-mari @luvgiselle @yjwxfxr @crimson-reaper576 @jungwonsjellies @ikeulove @inaisis @jiiyen @stvrriki @keylimejake @seungminsapuppy @who-tf-soddhi @pshwrldd @enhytan @reikaxslvr @i03jae @jkslvsnella @kamfaye @yangjungwonnie @babygirlskz98 @heirdollies @noiiny @brendz00 @sugarikiz @nctrawberries @aishigrey @h33seungz00 @en-ctzen @bananna-12 @rikidaze @nikistar @lilifiedeans @vixialuvs @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @jenniferecand @jakeslvt @swanyvess @kittsnewera @rairaiblog @haerinheartss @hooneyz-luver @rikikiynikilcykiki @sugarikiz

[abbysgolf-club]

STALKER

part 2

an abby anderson fic. wlw.

TW:: smut, mdni!!! softdom!abby, mentions of alcoholism, weight gain and reader is said to have longer hair. cunnilingus, fingering, aftercare!! use of pet names ie, sweetheart, sweet girl i literally dont think i could've made abby anymore gentle for y'all. (let me know if i've missed anything)

NO USE OF Y/N I PROMISE.

if you enjoy i'd highly appreciate likes comments and reblogs<33

READ PART 1 HERE::

It was her.

You recognised the large calloused hand as soon as it touched you. You knew it was Abby. You wriggled in her grasp; her free hand snaking around your waist to keep you in place.

"There's no point in trying to run, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk." Abby's voice spoke, a sound you hadn't heard in a good while. Her voice was smooth and calm, different from how you last heard her.

You muffled something into her hand before she finally took it away so you could speak, her hand still holding you on your waist. You let a breath out, unaware you were even holding one in.

"Why're you here? I specifically told you, stay the fuck away from me," You told her, your voice shaking slightly from the risen anxiety. Before she could respond you sighed, realising you were going to have to face her one day or another, might aswell be when she's broken into your apartment.

"Go sit on the couch, let me clean up this glass and then i'll come through.. and talk to you." You mumbled, waiting for her to let go.

"Whatever you say, sweet girl." Abby spoke breathily into your ear as she slowly removed her hands off your waist and backed up into the lounge.

Once she'd gone, you picked up the dustpan and brush and began scraping the broken glass on the floor into the dustpan, making sure there was no excess shards that could get stuck in your cats paws.

Once you cleaned up, you made your way over to the lounge. Seeing Abby sat on your couch with your cat, Garfield, on her lap made you remember the old times, when you two were still together. But you were done with that time of your life. You continued to tell yourself as you sat down next to her on the couch.

"Why'd you come back? You cheated on me, Abby." When you mentioned what happened that night, 4 months ago, Abby's face turned a pale pink colour in embarrassment for how she'd treated you. "You were manipulative, cruel, you treated me like i wasn't my own person; like you owned me." You spoke again, Abby looking at you with sorrow and guilt.

"Listen, baby.. that's what i came here to explain.. That's why i needed to find you." Abby answered, her eyes full of guilt and something else you couldn't quite lay your finger on.

You looked at her, waiting for her to begin explaining, not wanting to speak until she explained herself.

Abby sighed, leaning back on your couch, your cat still curled up in a ball on her lap as she stroked it carefully.

"That night.. is the biggest mistake i ever made. After you left, i changed. I realised i had to get better and recover. I've spent 3 months in therapy to get my drinking under control." She swallowed a thick lump in her throat before she continued to speak, "You, sweet girl, are the best thing that's ever come into my life. You are the kindest soul i've ever come across, like an angel placed on the planet for me to love and adore. All i'm asking for is one more chance. To prove i've changed. Please.." She looked at you, a look you'd never seen before. Vulnerability. She was genuinely upset. She really did love you, after all, would she have gone through therapy and found your exact location if she didn't care about you?

"Abby.. I.. I don't know what to say.." Your voice quiet, realisation hitting you that Abby did infact cherish you, she just wasn't in the best head space at that time.

"Then don't say anything, sweetheart." Abby spoke, pulling you into her lap, staring up at you sweetly. You'd gained a little bit of weight since your last encounter with Abby, but, of course that was no problem. You didn't even know if she noticed.

Abby's hands trailed along your hips to your waist and back again, before she pulled you into a loving kiss. It took you a second to realise what was happening until you melted under her touch, kissing her back softly.

"Abby.." you muttered, pulling back from the kiss, staring into her big blue-green orbs. Just as you were about to continue speaking, Abby held a finger up to your lips.

"Shh, I told you not to say anything baby, let me make it up to you for everything." With that said, she lifted you off her lap, laying you down on the couch onto your back.

"May I?" She asked, motioning to the button on your black denim shorts. You nodded reluctantly, nervous she'd judge you for your body image.

Abby smiled, unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them to your ankles, discarding them on the floor beside you.

She smiled at the slight pudge on your stomach, kissing gently at your stretch marks and down your thighs, removing your underwear as she did so. Abby's soft and sweet actions gave you butterflies; you felt a small pool between your legs.

"So wet for me already, baby?" Abby murmured, positioning her head inbetween your legs, looking up at you for permission.

"You can.. but be gentle.. please.." You asked softly, Abby smiled before looking down at the beautiful sight in front of her eyes.

Before you knew it, Abby's tongue slowly licked up between your folds, focusing on your clit. A soft gasp left your lips, causing Abby to grin as she continued slowly lapping your clit like she was starved; savouring your taste.

Your hand tangled into her neatly braided hair, you swore she never took it down and she woke up with it perfect everyday.

"Abby.." You moaned, breathlessly, Abby hummed against you, speeding her tongue up slightly, twirling it around your clit in small deliberate circles.

Abby reached her hand up, still eating you out as she slowly pushed her middle and ring finger inside you. Curling them inside to hit your spot; causing your head to fall back and moans escape your mouth.

Your grip tightened as she sped up, still keeping every movement gentle. Her free hand stroking your thigh lovingly.

Not long later, you felt your climax building up in your lower stomach, clenching your walls around Abby's fingers. Abby grinned as you clenched around her, "Cum for me, sweet girl." She said, lifting her head up to looked at your flustered, fucked-out face.

Her words sent you over the edge, coaxing her fingers and her face in your juices, Abby slurping them up like there was no tomorrow, helping you ride out your high.

Abby pulled her fingers out of you, giving one last lick to your clit; wiping her hand on her trousers and the corners of her mouth on her t-shirt.

"Let's get you cleaned up, baby. You look so pretty." She spoke, sitting up from between your legs, pulling you to sit up aswell. She grabbed the hair bobble off your wrist, tying your hair up into a small ponytail.

She then proceeded to pick you up off the couch, asking you for directions to your bathroom so you could go to the toilet.

Once she got you there, she waited outside for you to finish and then picked you up again bridal style and carried you to your bedroom, laying you down in your bed.

"Do you want anything sweetheart? Food? Water?" Abby asked you, smiling down at you in your bed.

"Water please.." You murmured, sleepily. Abby have you a peck on the forehead before travelling back downstairs to grab you a glass of cold water with ice and a straw.

"Here you go, we can't have you getting dehydrated." She smiled, walking over to you and handing you the water, before searching through your closet for some pyjamas. She found a black pair of fully pyjama pants bought them to you, helping you put them on.

Once you were dressed; Abby climbed into your bed next to you, allowing you to put your water down on your bedside table before spooning you, peppering your neck and upper back with kisses.

"Goodnight, sweet girl. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

And that was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep. Back in her arms, where you longed to be.