#i hope everybody else likes it as much as i do c:

[thememestrider]

40k Sfw Alphabet - Vulkan

I'm pretty new to 40k tumblr, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm yet to see many sfw/nsfw alphabets for our men, and I don't think I've seen any for the primarchs. As a big fan of the alphabets, I thought I'd do some; for my own enjoyment more than anything, but I'm hoping some of you guys will enjoy them too :)

I'm kicking off the biggest, strongest and most huggable of the primarchs: Vulkan.

Apologies for typos and ooc/lore inaccuracies

Please enjoy

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I think it goes without saying that Vulkan would be a very affectionate partner. He wears his heart on his sleeve and unlike many of his brothers, he's not one to hide or suppress his emotions. If he loves someone, he will want them to know it and he will want everyone else around to know it. Everyday. All the time. Without missing a beat.

Vulkan would show his affection visibly through physical touch, gestures and by saying it outright. Everyday, he will say "I love you". Every chance he gets, he's going to have a hand on you, be it touching your thigh when you're both seated at a meeting or resting his hand on your lower back while walking the halls of his flagship.

B - Best friend (What are they like as a friend? How would the friendship start?)

Vulkan is be the ultimate emotional-support bestie. This isn't even a head cannon: this is lore-accurate fact. When he reunited with Rogal Dorn, he gave him a hug. Before the Heresy, he believed in trying to redeem Konrad Curze. He is the most empathetic and emotionally intelligent of the primarchs, and all everybody knows it. As a friend, he'd be damn-near perfect.

As for how your friendship would start, I think it'd be pretty easy/straightforward. Right from the start, you'd feel how good the vibes around this man were and he'd feel the same way. You two would just click right away. It'd start with a simple conversation- maybe you bumped into each other at some political event, or maybe you met on the training grounds and wound up sparring or training together. From there, your friendship would only grow, and it would last for the rest of your lives.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Is it just me or does it feel like a lot of these are almost self explanatory? OF COURSE Vulkan likes to cuddle. When you are in his arms, he knows you are safe. He knows you feel loved. And, as I very much see his love language being physical touch, cuddles make HIM feel loved.

He has no preference as to how you two cuddle- just whatever you prefer. He does like it when you lay atop his chest, where he can lay his arms across your back, hold you like a comforter, and keep you both warm.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

At his core, Vulkan is a protector. A builder. So having a place where he can feel secure and be at peace isn't just something he would want; it's something he needs. And when you become a part of his life, this need would only grow deeper.

Since Vulkan is a black-smith, and therefore already apt at building and using his hands (wink) I can see him being a skilled cook. He'd love cooking for you, too- it's another way he can show how much he loves you.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Of all the primarchs, Vulkan would be the best to have a break up with. As mentioned earlier, he is extremely empathetic and he has very good emotional intelligence. If he were to break up with you, it'd be with an in-person conversation where he explains how he feels and let's you down very, very gently. If you were to break up with him, he would understand, and try to ensure that you both part on good terms. However, behind closed doors, he'd be heart broken and he would grieve the loss of your relationship deeply and agonisingly.

F - Fiancé (How to they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

Commitment goes hand-in-hand with loyalty, and Vulkan is one of the most loyal men out there. As soon as he knows he loves you, he's going to want to keep you. He wants you to be his, and he wants to be yours.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)

Do I really need to answer this?

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Again- do I really need to answer this?

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I could see him saying it pretty quickly, what with how quickly and stronglyI see you both bonding emotionally. With how intune he is with his feelings, I think he'd recognise fairly quickly that what he feels for you is love and that you need to know it- if not to be in a relationship with you, then at least to give you a heads up in case you didn't feel the same way.

J - Jealous (How jealous do they get? What are they like when they're jealous?)

Vulkan is loyal. He trusts you as much as he hopes you trusts him. As such, he doesn't get jealous- he doesn't feel he has any reason to be.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Long, deep and absolutely brimming with love. Gentle, too. Even in more passionate moments, he'd never hurt you, not even by accident. He likes to kiss you on the lips, mainly, as he considers that to be the most emotionally intimate. That said, he does enjoy it when, while laying on top of him, you kiss him down his neck and along his collarbones.

L - Little Ones (How are they around children?)

Vulkan is maybe the only primarch who is 100% perfect with children. He's just the sweetest man there ever was. I think he'd like the idea of having children, too, but only if it was what you wanted. If you didn't want kids, he wouldn't push the issue.

M - Mornings (How are morning spent with them?)

Slow and sleepy. Neither of you would want to get up. Vulkan, in particular, would simply love to spend the entire day holding you, dozing off to the feeling of your body pressed against his.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

He's definitely falling asleep with his arms around you. Either spooning you from behind or holding you across his chest like a blanket.

O - Openess (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal things slowly over time or all at once?)

As soon as it's clear how much you two click, Vulkan will begin to open up to you. Slowly at first so as not to overwhelm you, and from there, at about the same rate you feel comfortable opening up with him. I think he'd really dislike it if you kept things from him, too. Your happiness is his number one concern, and the idea that you didn't feel comfortable or safe telling him something would distress him very much.

P - Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Already, Vulkan has the patience of a saint. But with you? It's damn-near infinite. It might be thinner if he's stressed or worn down, but if he snaps at you or says something a little too sharp, he will realise immediately and apologise right away.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or do they forget the minor things?)

You're the most important thing in this man's life, of course he's going to remember everything about you. Moreover, he's going to use that knowledge for the gifts he crafts for you in his forge. Did you once mention off-handed that daisies were your favourite flower? Don't be surprised if the next day, you find a box with a daisy pendant left for you on your duchess. You mention how much you'd love a pet to keep you company while he's away crusading? Vulkan's going to get you a kitten or a puppy the next day- and he'll know which to get you, because he'll remember whether you're a cat person or a dog person.

R - Remember (What's their favourite memory of the relationship?)

I thought long and hard about this for a while, but honestly I struggled to come up with a specific example. Maybe you guys tell me in the comments or the reblogs what you think it might be, based on how you'd imagine your relationship with Vulkan.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Because you're a human, Vulkan would be very physically protective of you. He would want you living as far from any war as was possible, and even then, wherever you would end up living would be heavily defended by his legion. I could see him keeping you on Nocturne or Prometheus, as they are his and his sons' homeworlds, but both those places are very hostile in of themselves (Im pretty sure Nocturne is even considered a Death World), so maybe he'd set you up on a peaceful pleasure world or something of the like; overseen by a regiment of Salamanders, of course.

Vulkan is not only the largest primarch, but he's one of the most capable in combat. He's also a perpetual, and therefore functionally immortal. For these reasons, he doesn't need much physical protection- at least none of the kind you might be able to offer. But on the other hand, Vulkan absolutely needs something to guard his heart. He is a deeply emotional man and is very sensitive to grief and the suffering of others. When he looses his sons in combat or fails to save innocents from death, he will need your comfort. He'll need you to hold him tight, maybe even offer your shoulder for him to cry on. He'll need your assurance and your unconditional love. Of course, all of these things you're more than happy to give. As much as he needs and more.

T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts and everyday tasks?)

Vulkan would love nothing more than to go all out with all of these things a the time, but the demands of war and his duties as a primarch make it difficult to consistently. When he has the time, he will absolutely spoil you.

Regardless of how busy he is, you would always be receiving many, many gifts- jewellery, ornaments and cute, personalised knick-knacks that hand crafted by Vulkan in his forge.

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

If you're not careful, his protectiveness over you could start to feel overwhelming, especially during the events of the Heresy. Additionally, his desire to tend to your every emotional need may lead to you feeling smothered. But the moment you tell him how you're feeling, Vulkan would listen. He might slip back into those habits every now and then, but again, with time and good communication, he would eventually change for the better. Doesn't mean he'll stop protecting you, though- it just means he'll be less overt about it.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Vulkan is about the humblest man you could ever meet- vanity isn't a word in his vocabulary.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Without question.

X - Xtra (A random head cannon for them)

The Salamanders would revere you just as much as they do their father. They'd see you as their parent, and they'd hope that you would see them as your sons. Being assigned to your personal guard would be among their greatest honours, and you would come to know every marine on your guard personally. When it was their turn to return to Nocturne to see their families, you might even come along, for if the Salamanders are your sons, their families are your families as well.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like in a partner, or in general?)

Arrogance, a lack of empathy, selfishness and anything synonymous with those three things.

Z - Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

Despite appearances, I can see Vulkan struggling with insomnia and even nightmares, purely because he's such a sensitive man thrust into the most brutal and horrific wars. The insomnia would ease the moment he had you to hold at night, but his nightmares would take longer to fade. If he wakes up in a state, gasping for air and drenched in sweat, he will need you to comfort him- to listen as he talks through what he saw. To cradle his head or hold him him around the waist as he drifts back to sleep. This will become even more frequent following his torture at the hands of Curze.

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself. 

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something. 

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you. 

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again. 

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder. 

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway. 

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you. 

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it. 

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does. 

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive. 

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again. 

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It��s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying. 

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will. 

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him. 

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you. 

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.” 

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience. 

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”  

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?” 

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. 

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing. 

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth. 

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile. 

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?” 

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night. 

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.” 

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.” 

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens. 

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face. 

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him. 

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile. 

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer. 

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana. 

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it. 

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation. 

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you. 

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.” 

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.” 

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.” 

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?” 

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.” 

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.” 

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror. 

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself. 

You like it a lot. 

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours. 

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.” 

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.” 

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?” 

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?” 

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night. 

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own. 

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?” 

“I wish.” 

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return. 

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted. 

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?” 

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?” 

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away. 

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly. 

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!” 

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?” 

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.” 

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?” 

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him. 

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.” 

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy. 

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count. 

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.  

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.” 

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section. 

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.” 

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals. 

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly. 

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking. 

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers. 

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst. 

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.” 

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack. 

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop. 

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices. 

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant. 

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.  

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.” 

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.” 

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York. 

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt. 

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm. 

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.” 

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?” 

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date. 

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away. 

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel. 

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying. 

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite. 

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones. 

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time. 

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things. 

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”  

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve. 

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box. 

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him. 

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box. 

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check. 

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day. 

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes. 

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind. 

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms. 

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”  

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you. 

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now. 

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours. 

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco. 

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building. 

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him. 

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”  

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?” 

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open. 

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you. 

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.” 

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

“The price.”  

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice. 

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.” 

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.” 

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?” 

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you. 

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.” 

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out. 

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.  

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?” 

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor. 

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open. 

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you. 

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”  

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”  

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit. 

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom. 

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders. 

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?” 

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours. 

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.  

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do. 

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started. 

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.  

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.  

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning. 

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips. 

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind. 

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline. 

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him. 

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?” 

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”  

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?” 

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?” 

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows. 

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose. 

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?” 

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.  

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don��t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork. 

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself. 

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.4)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

Trope: Enemies/friends to lovers.

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3♡ -> Pt.5

m.list

Is there anything better than privacy?

Nope.

Bakugo had a room for his own. His roommate bailed from college right after the first class. He had an awakening about his future or something like that he had said before taking all his clothes and leaving. Bakugo felt some sort of relief that lasted...ten minutes? His friends used to invade his space quiet often. When he came to his room after seeing your flirting with Todoroki (from afar according to him), Kirishima and Sero were there talking about a game. They noticed in an instant that something was happening to his friend. He had his usual scowl on his face, but his brows were knitted together. A bad omen.

"Hey dude, what's up with that face?" Seemed like Sero was the one who grew a pair overnight.

Bakugo only grunted on his way to the closet. He needed to change his clothes to go to the stupid party you were attending. He made sure of that.

What if he sees you with Todoroki? Was it going to make his stupid stomach churn again?

"Hey man, we were talking about the party," Kirishima said, gaining part of his attention. "We were thinking about staying here, playing games, drinking our secret stash-"

"Fuck no" he didn't even stutter.

The reaction from Bakugo set an alarm to both of his friends. They knew about how casanova Bakugo could be, but he never, ever, showed that much, the fact that they were almost certain, after what happened with you just a week ago, that his friend's response was going to be a solid yes.

"Why so eager?" Sero asked.

"I just need the distraction," Bakugo shrugged while picking and searching the proper outfit.

He was vane most of the time, but he never took more than five minutes to choose a plain shirt and baggy jeans. Kirishima knew very well what was going on.

"Sero, why don't you go knock Mina's door and tell her about the change of plans"

Kirishima tried to be subtle. Man, he tried. Fortunately, Bakugo was so busy trying to decide between a white shirt and a black shirt that he didn't notice the exchange of looks that his friends were doing right under his nose.

"Sure," Sero winked to Kirishima and left the room.

Kirishima didn't know how to address the topic. His friend would definitely deny it, and they would be doing a full circle with yes and no that would end up in Bakugo just answering with noises.

Bakugo couldn't stop touching the fabric of his clothes. Was it too soft? Was it too white? What if there was a theme he didn't know about?

"You're panicking." Kirishima crossed his arms while leaning on his desk chair. He wouldn't lie, the scene was comical to witness. "You know you can talk to me"

The friendship between the two of them was something that most people didn't understand. Kirishima was always smiling, talking to everyone and telling jokes, while Bakugo, well, he had a permanent scowl on his face, rarely showed any other emotion than bored superiority and the only events that people saw him interacting with other people was with only one purpose, to state that he was better than everybody else. He was considered a private man and someone who had a police tape that said, do not cross.

"I don't know what's happening to me," he said, exposing his heart. He wasn't going to start naming or counting details. It was implicit, and Kirishima understood very well.

"You know what, man, you need to clear your head a little. This week had been rough. What about a beer pong to drain some stress off?"

Bakugo nodded to himself without even glancing at his friend. He needed a distraction, and he was almost sure that a party was a good place to find it.

...

"I can't believe that you, the queen of punctuality, is late" Jirou was losing it with you, the fact that you left her on read after she sent that demanding text and that you were also taking your time on getting ready.

"I'm sorry, Aizawa asked me to feed his cat, and you know how she is"

Blaming your non-biological dad was the ultimate movement in your pocket, so gen z of you.

"Oh yeah, Denki told me about the rizz in your training class. How did it go?" She asked you while picking her nails looking uninterested but you caught her side glancing you.

You slid your black leather skirt on your legs and shrugged.

"Well, you can see the burn marks on my legs here," you pointed above your left knee. "And here," you pointed your right mid thigh.

"Ugh, did you put something on it? That's gonna leave a nasty scar, " you denied, shaking your head.

She was right, but you didn't have anything to tend the wound.

"Does it hurt?" She asked this time, getting close to your leg.

"Yeah it does, like a motherfucker" you giggled. "But it's okay, it's a one-time thing, Aizawa is coming back and I would never ever ever have to sparr with him again"

There wasn't a pun intended in the mention of the one-time thing, but still, you really hoped that you would never have to be in that situation again.

"Well, at least this time was something professional"

You nodded, putting your boots on.

"Oh, but then, when I went to feed the cat, he was there, waiting outside Aizawa's door"

"He was where?"

Denki, as always, appeared out of nowhere, startling the shit out of you. Thank god he was outside the room this time and not hiding in the closet or under the bed.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me right," you said, putting some gloss on your lips. They stayed quiet, urging you to follow the story. "I finished my chores as a good daughter, and when I opened the door to leave Aizawa's apartment, I stumbled against him"

"What was he doing there?" Jirou asked with a quizzed look on her face.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me," you shrugged and turned around. Both of them were looking at each other with suspicious eyes. "What?," you inquired.

"I mean, not because we are your friends and we have to be delulu for you, but it's weird, don't you think?" Kaminari said and looked straight to Jirou for support.

"In a normal situation, we would be feeding you with improbable situations, but right now, I'm even intrigued with Bakugo and his behavior towards you. He seems like he's always trying to bump into you"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Wait a minute, we don't know why he was there. We haven't seen each other in a week less talk to each other, he's not trying anything, maybe he was lost or-"

"Yeah, right, lost." Jirou rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"I know the guy better than you two, and I think that Jirou is more on the correct side than you," Kaminari mumbled.

"Thank you!" Jirou stated, hoping off the bed.

"I think you're both wrong. He's not behaving in a way that's unnatural for him, he's just being obnoxious because what I said to him the other day, he's gonna leave me alone in a couple of weeks and move on to the next" you grabbed your jacket from the hanger and pointed to the door to get them going.

"You're basically saying that he's in fact following you." Kaminari dropped one of his heavy hands in your shoulder to keep you steady on the way to the party.

"She just proved my point without even meaning it." Jirou winked at you while you shook your head.

...

The lights inside the house were faint, a dim glow of absence in the middle of a considerable amount of bodies dancing at the rhythm of the music that was blasting through the speakers.

Jirou and Kaminari were the first ones to get lost inside the crowd, and it was perfectly fine for you. You weren't the kind of friends that were attached to the hip all the time. You respected each other spaces and you knew that eventually, you would find them slightly drunk, and you would hang with them again.

The party was situated inside of someone's home. A person you clearly didn't know. At that point, seeing nothing but unfamiliar faces, you started to doubt that Kaminari knew the owner of the house too.

You poured a transparent liquor in a red cup. You knew that you said earlier that you weren't going to drink, but just a drink won't hurt you.

You were looking at everything, trying to spot someone familiar or a thing to do. You wouldn't consider yourself socially awkward. In fact, people always found you easy to talk to, but you didn't make the first move. Between hi's and hey's, you recognized the characteristically two color bush of hair.

Todoroki was for you, an acquaintance. You knew him for a few classes. He always greeted you back when you raised your hand at him saying hi, but there was always something more. He was handsome and quiet, the mysterious pretty boy full of secrets that every girl wants to conquer. You weren't sure if you were one of them or if it was his vibe and mismatched eyes that always lit a little sparkle inside of you, tingling in your stomach with curiosity.

Well, you know what they say about curiosity killing the cat. Your only job was maintaining the cat alive, so for the sake of that...

"Hey," he said when he saw you approaching.

"Hi," you elevated your voice because of the music. He mimicked that he didn't hear you because of the speakers, so you leaned a little to his side. "Sorry, I didn't know you were into this"

The music, the flashing colored lights, the high pitch of voices from people trying to talk to each other. You included.

"It's friday night. What else can I do?" He shrugged hiding himself a little.

He was still a ball of cotton.

After everything that happened after the war, everyone evolved into a new facet of themselves, forming new angles, new emotions, and new personalities trying to rationale the traumas of the past into something positive.

He suffered a lot, and the fact that his suffering was being broadcast and watched by everyone in the world hurt a thousand times more. He lost all his privacy and the right to deal with the sorrow in his own way without staying in the public eye.

"I can relate to that." You sipped your liquor and scrunched your nose a little. "What are you drinking?" You glanced to his cup, but it seemed to only have water inside.

"It's vodka," he swung the cup in his hand and then gulped all the content down his throat in one go.

"It was vodka," you stated, quirking a brow. That was unexpected. And sexy. "Take mine, I don't like plain vodka"

You gave him your cup, and he accepted without second guesses.

"Do you want me to make you a drink?" He said.

It was subtle. There was no hint of flirtatious intentions. He was soft and friendly but unintentionally.

"Do you know how to make drinks?" You were surprised by his confidence. You doubted your capacities daily, so it was uncommon for you seeing this kind of demeanor, let alone in him. You were projecting.

"Yeah, there's this barman who always appears on my for you page"

He didn't laugh when he said the most mundane thing on the world, so you didn't laugh either.

"Sure, show me what you got"

You followed through the people, and in a moment where everyone was stuck like glue with everybody he grabbed you by your wrist to not lose you.

His fingers were warm, so you could bet it was his left hand. You wouldn't lie to yourself. The pads of his fingers carresing your pulse point in a firm, but soft grip made your cheeks turn red, but there was no chill in your spine or butterflies in your stomach. It was pure tenderness.

Once in the kitchen, the sound of the music lowered a little because of the close doors and the panels of ceramics doing their jobs, preventing the outside.

He moved through the kitchen, hesitating every step he took.

"What do you have in mind?" You leaned in the counter, forgetting you were wearing a slutty top that propelled your boobs almost to you neck.

He side eyed you, and after a peak to your neckline, he became more clumsy.

Your boobs were firm. They weren't big, but they weren't small. Your ex-boyfriends or past flings had always said to you that they were perfect. You knew that tits were tits for them, and the mere concept of boobs was attractive for every straight man.

Lifting your hand without making much fuzz over it, you pulled the top covering the skin.

"I-I," he stuttered, opening and closing a few drawers. He cleared his throat, regaining his confidence again, and showed you a couple of lemons. "Kaminari said once that your favorite drink was Cosmopolitans"

You were surprised by two things. The first was Kaminari talking about you. You needed the context of that conversation, the why, the who, and the how. The second thing was him remembering that unimportant fact about someone who didn't even talk to.

"Yeah," you came back from your stunishment.

Completely, contrary to how he moved in the kitchen fetching all the ingredients, he showed that he was a total expert making drinks, or at least he was good pretending to know how to make them. He used his hands graciously to pour all the things into a shaker he found, and then he poured the most delicated drink you ever saw.

You were used to Kaminari and Jirou mixing all the ingredients stirring them with a straw but that was different.

"Here you go"

The glamor ended when the drink touched the red cup, but we are going to skip that detail.

In your mind, you cursed yourself from the past, the one that swore that would never drink again because after sipping just a drop of that elixir, you couldn't help but want more.

"You shouldn't be moaning like that in front of everybody"

His gruff voice coming from behind made all the hairs in the nape of your neck react.

Of course, the only one that could ruin the perfect moment with the perfect drink and the perfect company was nothing more and nothing less than Bakugo Katsuki himself.

Oh, beloved earth, could it please swallow you already?

...

Bakugo meshed well because of his friends. They were talkative enough to supply the lack of social rudeness of him.

After they arrived at the party, he planted himself in a giant group of men playing beer pong. He played a few rounds and then got bored because everyone was wasted, and for him, it was no fun watching them stumble and laughing at the most stupid things.

His friend helped a little with that. They were talking with Sato and Shoji about some game and some fighting techniques that Bakugo was more than pleased to show interest and even help them with their doubts.

They engaged in a conversation that evolved to many topics that he actually enjoyed. He was fully focused on them when a glance of the color of your hair and the characteristically smile of you dragged all his attention out of the group.

You were wearing just a top and a tiny skirt with black boots that made him want to be stomped on.

Bakugo excused himself of the group. His friends were too busy to realize what was happening and why he was so exalted.

You weren't alone.

You were following that half n' half shithead.

He was the opposite of idiot. He knew how to play his game and how to act when he was committed to spying on someone. He observed from the slight opening between the frame and the door how Todoroki reacted to your presence and vice-versa.

He had a great view of your ass in that skirt. You were leaning on the counter with your ass popping up, and he could notice that Todoroki had a nice peak of your tits. He saw you covering yourself quietly after he became the stupidest person of all times acting distracted and awkward.

"Fucking icyhot," he thought.

Bakugo needed to do something quick, and for one moment, his lack of reasoning won over his structure and square shaped mind.

After that one sentence that drew your attention completely, he saw the change in your posture, the way your smile faded, and how suddenly all your muscles were rigid against every part of your skin that you were showing because of your outfit choice.

He felt intrigued because of the sudden change of your demeanor in response to his presence, and he also felt satisfied with that.

"Oh dear," you sighed, turning around to face him. He never showed any particular emotion, but this time, he couldn't hide the little smirk that appeared on his lips.

"I never expected to see you here," he continued.

You were about to answer when you realized that it wasn't directed to you. He was talking to Todoroki, ignoring your presence in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of this kinda stuff," Todoroki said impassive.

"I can notice that," he said with superiority and because of the silence he added. "So what's going on in here? Are you having a little party for yourselves?"

Bakugo knew very well how to play the who can be more annoying game. In a matter of competition, he always won. This wasn't an exception.

"Todoroki was making me a drink, and that's all, now if you excuse us -" you said, opening your eyes and directing them to the door so he could read the room.

"Cool, what'cha drinking?" He didn't wait for your answer and grabbed the drink that you left in the counter taking a giant sip.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you were dying of embarrassment. The booze in your system was not the sufficient amount to get you through what was happening. You wanted to die.

"That's a little too acid for me, but it's good, sure you did a great job"

The way he was saying things was taking you to the verge of lightning him up with your quirk. You looked at Todoroki. He was more than used to weird interactions, but he was looking at Bakugo in a way you couldn't decipher.

"I have an early training at my dad's agency tomorrow, I have to go." Todoroki voice was plain, but when he looked at you, you could see the pity in his eyes. "Maybe next time"

Your entire body was saying sorry, but the words never got to your mouth. You only nodded. He was a good guy and someone that you were actually interested in getting to know, but there was the other bastard ruining everything again.

Both of you saw Todoroki leaving the kitchen, and if someone was looking at the scene from outside, they could've seen how Bakugo puffed out his chest and how the pure rage invaded your body.

"Look what you just did!" You smacked his bicep, and he smirked wider, making you regret smacking him so lightly.

"What? He was totally shitting on himself with you here. I saved his ass. " he pointed towards the door that was still moving with the tandem of Todoroki storming out. "I bet he wouldn't have made it to the second base with you"

"Jeez, that's for me to decide," you whined like a little girl.

"I just did what I had to do"

"Oh my god, what's gotten into you lately?" The bravery made only by the alcohol in your system took control of yourself. "You've been following me and riling me up just for the fun of it. It's been a fucking week I thought that what happened between you and me was more than over, what do you want from me?"

Just as the booze took over your system, Bakugo had his own little thing commanding his decisions. He wasn't sure of what it was.

"I want us to be friends"

You were taken by surprise.

He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't do friends, he didn't need a friend, he had enough but you, what was the deal with you? He found exhausting the feeling of you feeling repulsed by him, the avoidance game that you played very well.

Damn he felt intrigued by your lack of excitement when it came to him. Excitement? The euphoria that tagged along with having the experience with him, people talked about his stamina in bed very often, and that was the clear answer in his head. Was he good enough? Yeah, he was, but it seemed that he wasn't enough for you.

He always knew that his attitude was bad and people loathed him because of it, and it was alright for him. He could definitely still live knowing that. It made sense, at least, hating him for something bad like his demeanor...but sex? He thought he was one of the dudes that the girls wanted more of, the type of guy that the girls will speak of with their friends, the type of guy that would be top tier in a chick's list, well, that really happened before, many times, but what was the problem with you? Why did everyone else he sleep with do that but not you?

He didn't expect the sudden feelings that came along with the concept of you.

Rage. He remained calm in the most stressful situations, but you, with the snap of your fingers and your smart mouth, did everything to put his world upside down, and that wasn't fair for him.

Jealousy. Seeing you flirting, talking with other people when the number of times he had ever spoken to you were almost close to zero than to ten.

Even dependency. He wanted to be close to you so much.

And...confusion, why? why was he feeling so out of control out of nothing?

That's how it felt being pussy whipped?

"Friends?" You snapped him out of his senses.

"Yeah, friends is a word that means -"

"I know what friends are, you stupid asshole." You rolled your eyes at him who was still standing there with superiority after destroying your moment with Todoroki.

"So?" He urged. He was calm even when his mind was racing at the possibility of you saying no.

"What's in for you?" You were suspicious. You knew very well the closed circle of friends he had, only four at best.

"Nothing, I found you not a total waste of space," he said nonchalantly. If you were expecting him to shower you with compliments, you were wrong.

You knew how he was. Always believing he was the best, that his position in the world was above the others, how he called 'extras' the people that were surrounding him but not fulfilling his expectations or even near his expectations, well, if he had one because most of the time people weren't worth his time.

You were exactly the opposite of him. You never had the need to test people out. You never had the need to prove yourself against others. You lived your life day by day, almost unnoticed. You needed to be smarter than him.

"Fine," you conceded. "But, there's one condition"

He scoffed, clearly enjoying and making fun of you for thinking you had the position on making conditions.

"We are not fucking again"

You drew the line.

You've had your friends with benefits before because you knew them. Bakugo was a completely different scenario for you.

He wouldn't lie. He, in his men mind, thought that maybe offering his friendship to you would be the easiest way to get inside your panties. You were not just a pretty face. You had brains.

"Sure, you don't see me fucking with raccoon eyes" he rolled his eyes pretending to be offended.

"Then we have a deal." You smiled tensely at him. He extended his hand for you to take it. "That's how you normally make friends? Like you are selling something?"

"Shake the damn hand"

He used the opportunity of you closing your hand in his to pull you closer to him, stumbling against his broad chest.

You looked at him squirming your eyes, waiting patiently for the moment he decided to fuck everything up. He looked closely at your face, the smuged marks of your eyeliner under the corner of your eyes, the way your lashes curled up and marked more the shape of your eye. He was perplexed by your beauty.

"You left some hair on my pillow, " he said with his voice hoarse, tugging a string of your hair behind your ear.

"We said friends, didn't we?" You smacked his hand far away from near you and he smirked.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know how long this is going to last"

"What do you mean?" You asked, taking the remaining amount of drink in your cup.

"Don't get me wrong. Im a man of my word, but I don't know if you would be able to keep up with our promise"

You laughed at him. You've seen the man naked. You had him on top of you. You didn't need anything from him.

If he wanted a challenge, you would be more than happy to comply.

"Yeah, of course," you scoffed, "I have so little control of myself that I won't be able to keep my hands to myself."

The tone in your sarcasm was rich. He found it amusing.

"Laugh all you want, but I'm not going to be the one suffering because of this dumb decision of keeping us as only friends"

The seriousness on his voice sent a chill up and down through your spine.

"You are so full of yourself." You laughed again, but this time, it was a nervous laugh.

He put his hands up in redemption while walking backward toward the door and then left you all alone in the kitchen with your thoughts.

Was he drunk, too?

He was, only ten minutes after you accepted on being his friend, in fact, suffering because of your quick answer and condition to not mess with each other. He needed strategy, thinking logically to make you make the first move with him.

He didn't know what was the thing responsible for him being so stubborn when it came to you. He didn't know if it was like those occasions when you became obsessed with the things that were out of your reach. The negative of you about being even near him again. He didn't understand a thing about what was going on. But he did know that he was Bakugo Katsuki, and when he had something - someone in this case - in mind, he didn't give up until he had it in his hands.

(Not proofread yet)

End note: I'm working late cause I'm a writer. I tried to make it longer because I made you wait a week for it, so enjoy! Todoroki making us our favorite drink? We know that since he discovered youtube shorts and reels (not tiktok because he is half boomer and socially awkward) he's been stuck with watching short videos every day, cocktail videos and house projects are his favorite, I have no doubt about that.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

taglist: @kiridagremiln @aefillor @screechingfangirlaf @chuugarettes @gold24fish @dreamcastgirl99 @andyetshewrote @budibbly @candiiee @linkfromskywardsword @galaneiaeris @fantasynerd05 @big-denki-energy @3thr3al @marsbars09 @whatswrong7 @scaranthropy @cc1306 @junehasnotbeenfound @jeanbabygirl @pirana10 @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @ahbeautifulexistence @polarbvnny @th0tformikasa @surprisemodafakas @xxjesshuxx @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @atashiboba @azzo0 @berryvioo @hiimsaraandyou @bizzybkd @regrexx @justsinri @slut-4-gojo @bexxs @lemuhr @monkeycheeks-lvl26 @tsukikoxo @sikuthealien @mia-luvs @dondeh-zedonutqueen @the-queen-yn @stardream14 @pretty-sparkle-bomb @itzjustj-1000 @m-atcha-tea @liluvtojineteyam @shosuki @v3n7s @yoyolovesdaiki @jenna-sakura @femi12hhf @aejabba @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

taglist continues on the comments.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[weird-is-life]

Hello i have a request for spencer reid x reader. If you have noticed in the show, esp early seasons he doesnt really get jokes a lot and takes stuff literally. Can you write a reader who is the same way, and the team is partaking in a funny joke and they are the only two who dont get it??? They r so perfect for each other

Hiii, lovely🥰ty for the cute request, hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, clueless Spencer and reader, mentions of drinking and tea, (0.5k)

The latest case is finally over, and the whole team is more than happy about it. There are drink being passed around the jet in between, well almost everyone, except from you and Spencer.

You two are comfortably sitting next to each other on the jet's couch with the cups of tea in your hands. You didn't feel like drinking, and neither did Spencer, so instead he made you both some tea.

You are still very much present in the merry conversation happening between the team though, just without the alcohol.

And suddenly everybody is laughing, something to do with Derek and a bar, but you don't get it. You force a fake laugh out because you don't want to ruin the fun.

You find that Spencer is laughing as well, so even he must get the joke. It's only you that doesn't understand. You think of how embarrassing that is for you. Never getting the jokes.

The laughter dies down, and the conversation continues going as smoothly as it has been before.

Abruptly, you get an idea. Maybe Spencer could explain the joke to you?

It takes you a few minutes to find the courage to lean closer to Spencer, and ask about the joke.

"Spencer? C-Could I ask you something?" You whisper as inconspicuously as you can. Not wanting to get anybody else's attention.

Spencer looks at you with a soft smile, and he says, "sure."

You clear your throat, feeling a bit sheepish about it," did you....could you explain the joke to me?"

Spencer frowns in confusion, " what do you mean?"

You sigh in defeat," I mean the joke that everybody was laughing at. I didn't get it." Your cheeks go a bit red at your confession.

"You didn't get it?" Spencer asks curiously. Not mean or cruel about it, just curious.

You shake your head. Too embarrassed to say it out loud.

"I didn't either," Spencer grins at you. Eyes shining with sparks of amusement.

"You didn't?" You baffle. You saw him laughing.

"Nope. I often don't. I usually just pretend that I know what they are talking about, and laugh at it," Spencer shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. The sides of your mouth go up.

"Did you pretend now too?" You question with a quiet giggle. You can't believe that he's done the same thing as you.

"Yeah. Did you pretend too? I saw you laughing," he raises his eyebrows. His own smile appearing on his pretty face.

"Yeah, didn't want to be the only one not laughing," you admit.

"Good," he laughs, bumping his shoulder to yours, "now we can pretend to understand together."

You can't contain the laugh as he says it. The both of you chuckling on your own inside joke.

"Oi," Derek draws your attention, your laughing gone, but the smiles remaining on your faces, " what are you two lovebirds laughing at?"

Your cheeks go impossibly more rosy, "nothing." It's an easy lie, you don't feel like telling them the truth.

And one look at Spencer you know he doesn't either, his own cheeks a bit more pink than they were before.

[ennabear]

I'm begging you to write about mean!abby and reader finding a kitten in one of the buildings, Abby not letting her save the kitten but reader cries all night so Abby HAS to go back and get the kitten...

a/n: plsss this is so cute 😭 thanks for the request baby ilysm and i may or may not have written too much about this 🤗💗💗

daily click / boycott tlou / help these families evacuate / free palestine

abby wasn’t mean necessarily, just very strict. she knew you even better than the back of her hand, and she liked that you depended on her for everything.

hungry? ask abby to make something for you. tired? good, it’s almost your bedtime, don’t want you being cranky in the morning. can’t reach something? better go get abby to grab it for you.

so when you saw that poor kitten while walking back to your apartment, you knew you had to ask her for it. it started with you just hearing a few pleading mewls before turning around and seeing it toddling toward you.

“aww, abs, look! it’s a little kitten!” your smile growing. you were met with a cold “hmm.” from abby. “can we take it home?” you asked. “absolutely not. we don’t have room for an animal.” it was partially true. your apartment wasn’t huge, but it was a comfortable size, and you were moving soon anyways.

ignoring her, you picked it up and continued strolling beside her, cooing at it’s small size and adorable face. “did you not hear me? i said put it back.” she snapped. “don’t call it an ‘it’, abs. i think it’s a girl.”

she glared at you, unamused. “now.” you walked over to a small corner and placed her down, giving her a final pet as your eyes welled up. even if you couldn’t keep her, you at least hoped you’d see her again. maybe it would become a neighborhood cat that everybody mutually loved, everyone except abby.

you didn’t talk to her the rest of the walk home, which was short, or even meet her gaze. although you understood that she only ever tried to look out for you, sometimes she was too strict. you went to bed that night without even returning a kiss, too angry at her, too worried about the poor kitten all alone outside. scared, cold, hungry.

these thoughts continued to plague your mind, eventually causing tears to collect. you hid your face in abby’s chest and sniffled, trying not to start sobbing. “baby?” she asked, “are you alright?”

“abs… that poor kitty. it doesn’t even have a family.” you were crying now. “w-what if it gets too cold, or it gets h-hit by a car.”

abby frowned at your words. “it won’t, honey. it’s already survived this long, it can go a few more nights before someone else picks it up.”

“but it’s n-not supposed to survive on its own. someone probably left it there to die.” you were sobbing, too.

“well, we’re not taking it home. i’m sorry, hate me all you want but we don’t have time or space for a pet.” you didn’t understand how she could be so mean. you cried even harder at this, hoping, praying the cute little guy survives. you cried into her chest until eventually, sleep took you.

abby had other plans. she didn’t know you’d instantly get so attached to that cat, and she hated that now you were crying because of her. she only wanted to do what was best for you, but there was no winning this battle.

once she was sure you were asleep, she slid her shoes back on and headed outside, hoping it was stills there, even more that there was only one. to her luck, the kitten was still there, instantly jumping up and waddling toward her. it’s meows seeming louder than earlier, like it recognized her or something.

she picked it up with two hands, trying not to hold it too close in case she changes her mind about wanting to keep it. slowly, she tiptoed back inside, trying her hardest not to wake you.

her fingers raced to ask google every question she had about caring for it. things like what to feed a baby kitten or where to get kitten milk replacer or how do baby cats stay warm at night? after finding what she needed, she put the kitten in an old shoebox and carried it out to the car.

surprisingly, the kitten didn’t seem to hate the drive, it was mostly just excited to be out of a big, scary parking lot. she put the car in park, and swore to herself that she would take no longer than 10 minutes in the store.

12 minutes later, she’s back with a syringe, a tin of kitten milk replacer, a heating pad, a litter box, and a water bowl. the kitten peeks up at her after she opens it just to check in. it meows and tries to grab her hand, but she closes it too quickly and drives back home.

when you wake up, you’re surprised to see that abby is still in bed with you. usually she’s at the gym, or if not, she’s definitely started her day by this time. with hands on her sides, you roll her over to cuddle with you. “abs,” you whisper into her neck, “why are you still here?”

“i had a long night.” she responded. “and i’m sorry i made you cry, i promise the cat will be fine.”

you completely ignored the second part, “long night? no you didn’t.” how could she have had a long night? she was in bed with you the whole time, right?

“go look on the kitchen table, silly girl.” so you did. you yawned and put on your slippers, making your way out of the bedroom.

on the kitchen counter you found an old shoebox, a heating pad with a temperature remote attached to it, a soft hand towel, and a sleeping gray kitten.

tears threatened to spill again as you felt abby’s arms wrap around you, her head snuggling into your neck and whispering “surprise.”

[erwinsmithsmissingleftarm]

Smut alphabet for Levi Ackerman

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Do not let yourself influence by his cold and sarcastic nature. Whatever you had a rough and intense or slow and passionate sex session, he will care about you the same way: extra gentle.

First, he will bring your tired body to the bathroom to clean you up. While Levi wraps his arms around your waist, his lips leave tons of light kisses on your shoulder. He's going to mumble something about how did you like it, hoping he didn't went too harsh on you. Quickly changing the bed sheets, he puts you to sleep shortly afterward. Cold and stern in the outside, sweet and caring in the core.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your boyfriend doesn't really have a favorite part of his own body. Like... he thinks its okay and normal, just like everybody else. But he cannot help but feel proud of his muscles, always cracking a smile whenever you compliment his abs, biceps or pecs. He found them useful when it comes to dominate you.

What about your body? I am pretty sure that if you ask him what he likes about your body, the first words that will come out would be ass or thighs. Which is not surprising after his constant pleas of getting his face squish by your thighs and to sleep on your ass like if it was the most comfortable pillow in the whole world. Levi always gives your butt a loving slap when he comes back home. It's his secret way of saying hi.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Levi likes to eat your cum, it's one of his favorite meal. This man is so hungry for your dripping wet pussy that he can spend hours liking it while you are sitting down on his face. He just loves the taste of your cum and hwo your juices run down his lips as he tries to lick it all. He doesn't even care about getting dirty anymore. This guy knows his priorities.

He also wants to see your body covered in his cum. Thighs, face, stomach, chest, hair... nothing is forgotten. He just looks down at you and has the biggest prideful smirk on his face at the sight of the mess he has made. He knows you are gonna kill him for putting sperm in your hair because it is hell no wash it so he enjoys it the longer he can.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Levi enjoys fucking you while your hands are tied. He never thought about enjoying slight BDSM but here he is, liking the fact that you can't touch him or squirm away. Also works if your eyes are covered, the adrenaline of not knowing what he is doing to you amplifying the pleasure you feel during sex. He will never really say it out loud, he prefers to keep it for himself even if he is almost sure that you enjoy it as much as he does. You probably already guessed that his favorite tool to tie you up with is his cravate did you?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Levi might do some researches the day before you two do your first time to be sure that he will do everything right. When it time to do it, he takes out like a dozen of condoms because he didn't know which ones you prefers. Yeah, he might be a bit unsure for the first times but he does not assume, he just doesn't want to show you his insecurity.

Beside reading, he has 0 experience before he started dating you. I mean, it's canon that this man is a virgin (well, was) and is the most sexually frustrated. However, even if Levi doesn't have much experience, he manages to fuck you like a pro. This man is not only the Humanity's Strongest Solider for fighting...

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Levi doesn't really have a preference for a position. I mean, it's all depend of his mood. He is in a romantic mood? The missionary. He wants to fuck you good and dominate you? Doggy style. He wishes for slow but intense sex? Lotus position. He's lazy and just want to watch you fuck yourself on his dick? Cowgirl.

So, it all depends of how he is feeling, what is his mood, ect. But he does like to try new and weird positions that take him out of his comfort zone. You can come up to him and say you want to try the golden arch (this looks sexy asf) and he will say yes without even thinking twice, just because he likes to add spiciness in sex.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Levi being Levi, he will NEVER be goofy. This man is barely expressive in the daily life so for sex, it will be pretty difficult. He will not make jokes, excluding maybe “Cumming so much, you’re like a real fountain, princess.” with a smirk on his face. If he jokes, it will be very light and more seen as dirty talk. This man is 100% in every time you fuck so joking around? He doesn’t even think about it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Levi hates everything that isn’t clean and dirty, and this include his own body. So… expect that this area will be super clean and shaved almost daily (yes, he’s a maniac, even for this.)

Maybe it’s a bit out of the subject but we are talking about hair here so for me it’s include the “normal” hair. About them, you know Levi tries to keep them the best groomed possible, but he secretly loves when you tug on them suddenly. Please, grip his hair and push his head down when he gives you a cunnilingus or pull them harshly when you get overstimulated after he made you cum for the 5th time. He will do anything to please you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Levi can be very romantic during love-making just like he can just fuck to fuck. His love and romanticisme are not very evident but it's the small attentions that matter for him. Taking care of you after, whispering praises into your ear, holding your hand... He won't really show that he's romantic but if you take a look at his actions... you will see it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Levi jack off a lot less often since he started to date and get intimate with you. He prefers skin too skin contact over his hand and imagination. Boy, he was a total virgin before he did his first time with you, so my man was the pro of jacking off (sounds so wrong writing this). I even think that Levi will prefer to wait to fuck you instead of jacking himself off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Two words: authority kink. Listen to me, I know everybody says that Levi got this kink but you're this man's little brat and he is your superior who got control on you. Yes, you have to call him Captain Levi or else he will punish you. And yes, he will call you brat or bratty slut but don't worry, it is always affectionate. Levi likes to have control, who doesn't like it? So if you start to call him 'Captain' expect him to act like one.

Second kink would be degrading kink. Calling you a whore, slut, cum dumpster, whatever degrading nicknames you like. Tugging on your hair as he fucks you hard, making your back arching beautifully as he whispers bad bad words into your ear. But hey, once the love-making session is finished, he will immediately ask you if he wasn't too rough or anything because he truly loves and cares about you. Maybe he got the degrading kink but he will never hurt you on purpose. And I see you, anxious girls who are scared that he doesn't love you when he calls you names. You just have to tell him and he will stop. Your well-being is his number one priority and you should never feel insecure with him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Levi can do it anywhere, everywhere, any time, every time, you just have to ask. Bed? Basic but perfect. Kitchen table? He couldn’t wait anymore to devour you, you’re his meal. His office? The fear of being caught just makes it better. In the car? You’ve been too much of a brat and you need a punishment right now.

I think his favorite place to do it would be his office. He likes to see you trying to hold back your moans as he’s pounding inside you because the people outside the office could totally hear you. Or seeing your teary eyes as you are on your knees sucking his dick like a good little bitch under his desk. He even has the boldness to make phone calls, forcing you to keep it silent if you don't want everybdy knowing who's fucking you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Acting bratty is probably the biggest turn on. Levi is instantly turned on if you tries to ignore his commands. Why he likes it? Cause he can teach you how to be a good girl and listen to him. Grabbing your hair, making you look at him as he asks you to repeat what you said. A satisfied grin spreading on his lips as you apologize and beg him to fuck you.

Another thing that could make Levi turn wild would be you flirting on purpose with other people. God his expression turns mad when he sees you a bit too close for his liking with this guy. If you want a good punishment, Levi's jealousy is a very quick way to achieve it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't see Levi doing anything that would imply other people like fucking directly in public or doing a threesome (you are his and only his). He won't also do something that could harm you too much like intense BDSM or anything about knifes or torture. He likes spiciness but this is a whole new level in which he doesn't want to be.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Levi likes both of them. I mean, if he had to choose, it would be impossible. How can he decide between eating your beautiful and perfect cunt and seeing and feeling you sliding his big cock down your throat, you tongue caressing all the sensitive spots?

I would say Levi has pretty good skills in everything (cough) which include pussy eating (COUGH). He would probably win the prize of the best tongue flicking at this point. He will keep your legs spread as you try desperately to close them, feeling his warm tongue licking the most intimate place of your body. “C’mon darling, don’t be so shy. I already saw everything that could be seen down here.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Levi is most of the time fast and rough, maybe it is like this that he proves his true love for you. When he fucks you real hard, be ready to not being to walk the next day. Often when he will be slow and sensual it will be to tease you and torture you slowly, when you can feel the heat between your thighs spreading more and faster. "What did you say? I didn't hear you. Slower?"

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes to have quickies time to times like in his office right before an important meeting. He likes the stress of running out of time where you are literally begging him to fuck you faster and harder. Levi approves quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Levi likes pretty much risking new things and he is very open-minded when it's come to sex stuff (surprising but it's one of the rare topics that he is very collaborative with). He doesn't really have a limit and is chill with everything. As long as it makes you happy, he's ready for everything like stated in the previous letters.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Okay so... Levi is a total wild animal. Yeah, I know he's supposed to be close to his 40s but tell yourself that he is the Humanity's Strongest Soldier and can run kilometers without being tired so sex is like a little walk for him. He can easily fuck for 3 and more rounds and last 10 to 15 minutes in each before cumming. I'm telling you; this man is almost impossible to exhaust so be ready. But don't worry, I'm sure Levi will be pleased to give you a few practices ;)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Levi would buy some toys to use on you, just to test this out for a night. Well... and he used them again and again. He just loves to see your body squirming as you're fucked by a vibrator. "Cumming and I didn't even touch you, damn." he would say with a smirk. Or he could also buy handcuffs but he prefers to use his cravate.

I don't think he would ever want to use a fleshlight because he thinks that your pussy is 100 times better than some fake sex toy. He lives to feel your skin on his. Plus, he rarely masturbates so it would be useless to have sex toys for himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man loves to tease you. HE WANTS to hear your begging for him to fuck you faster, harder or whatever you want. He's gonna to slowlyyy move his hand down toward your private part, just to keep you waiting. He will take his time to kiss every little spot of your skin, leaving dark marks on your neck, shoulders and chest.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He won't be really loud even if he fucks you like an animal. Maybe some grunts, gasps and groans as he's thrusting into you deeply. He will also talk a lot but like... dirty talk. Pet names literally flowing down from his lips any time he can. When he will be cumming, he will only bite his lips to hold back the sounds, biting it so hard it started to bleed sometimes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When Levi is nervous about something, he will tend to be more impulsive, getting angry easier. He doesn't even realize that he repeats certain actions like passing his hand in his hair, replacing his cravate... so, if you see these movements, your darling boy is nervous. Maybe you could go and asks him what's wrong and try to calm him down? You are probably the only person he won't kill for asking him questions.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Even if Levi is short as hell (sorry but man he's 5'3), his cock is all the contrary. Oh boy, this man got the whole tool. I mean… He. Is. Big. As. Fuck. Not only long but also large. In short, that man got something that will surely satisfy you. His dick + his professionalism in sex makes him a real master. You can’t be disappointed cause that cock hit all the deepest part of your body at each thrust.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Levi has a very low sex drive. I mean, he's a grown man, he can pass many days without sex and not being sexually frustrated. He was a virgin for like 20 years so he's kinda used to a very low sex drive. But after many years with you, his sex drive will augment a bit, he will be in the average I guess? But he isn't a sex addict either who can't live a day without fucking.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes some time to Levi to fall asleep every day but after a long and tiring session of sex, he sleeps like a baby. It won’t take long for him to fall asleep, a few minutes after getting down from his high. But he will try to fall asleep after you, just to be sure you’re fine but… sometimes are harder than others. When he feels that he’s losing the battle, he will hug you tightly and caress your hair, trying desperately to make you sleep first (does it even work??)

[tobi-smp]

you know, I think the reason why there's a lot of strange takes about c!wilbur is that not enough people in this fandom have kids (be that actually being a parent or just being responsible for someone younger than you in some way).

"wilbur had absolutely no obligation to take care of tommy/fundy/tubbo, and in fact it's a Good thing that he left them because he's mentally ill"

is a take that Always reads as strange, but instantly drives off a cliff when you actually take care of kids.

don't get me wrong, I relate to wilbur a Lot. he's an extremely important character to me.

but what's being described here is called Child Neglect. fundy is wilbur's actual son, tommy and wilbur both consider each other brothers, and tubbo is Tommy's brother while wilbur considers himself responsible for him in some way.

All wilburians recognize that wilbur felt responsible for the people in l'manberg and pogtopia, how he agonized over not feeling good enough. and that's Extremely relatable As someone who is mentally ill and in charge of a child.

taking care of a child At All is hard, double so when you're mentally ill. when you're struggling to take care of Yourself but still feel responsible for the lives of other people. when you have to meet needs for somebody else that you can't meet for yourself.

but you can't just like. choose not to take care of your children anymore and have that just be neutral.

sometimes you need to make Choices, you need to rest, you need to take care of yourself. that is all true. but you can't fully disengage from Being a parent without it fucking up your kids.

he Can leave certainly, but he can't do that without it affecting his relationships. he can't do that without it hurting people. and Realistically he can't do that without hurting himself, considering he's cutting himself off from every support he has and going to work minimum wage where nobody knows him.

which simply would not help my mental health if it were me.

and I think some people who see themselves in wilbur don't like that, because it doesn't feel Fair. to have responsibilities for other people when you're barely scraping by. to feel like a bad person for trying to take care of yourself. but that's why having kids is Hard. it's not for everybody, though you don't always get the choice.

and it's exactly Because of that that I think wilbur is extremely interesting representation for mental health, And exactly why I don't like boundless sands as an ending.

because that position that wilbur represents is Real. spiraling over feeling like you can't be what you need to be while Knowing that you Have to be there anyways is an Extremely common thing with mentally ill parents. l'manberg as a Family is real and has always been real.

and the fact that it's Difficult and Complex is the point ! wilbur hurt the people who love him most, and yet those people still love him, still need him, still Want him.

yes wilbur is representation of a mentally ill person, but more than that he is representation of a mentally ill Parent. and that distinction is Meaningful. I also think that distinction isn't as relatable to the very much so younger audience of the dream smp.

of course, that take is Also blanket weird as hell because unlike real life (I hope) the people that wilbur left behind were being hunted by a serial killer and then exploded. it's not a good move for his mental health on account of his entire family did very much so explode and die.

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Everybody Dies

Pairings: Rick Grimes x teen!reader, Daryl Dixon x teen!reader, Carl Grimes x teen!reader, Michonne Hawthorne x teen!reader, Aaron x teen!reader, Negan x teen!reader, Rosita Espinosa x teen!reader, Eugene Porter x teen!reader, Sasha Williams x teen!reader (all of them are platonic)

Requested by: @leahsbasement may i request a teen or child g/n reader that’s really close to the twd group and during the lineup they’re one of the people chosen by negan to yknow- receive the glenn and abraham treatment💀 and like we get some reactions from the group from it🧎 i apologize if this sounds really morbid but i am dire need of some good angst and i love your writing sm it’s amazing <3

Warnings: reader death, angst, a tad bit of fluff (definitely not much), mention of character death, description of Negan doing what he did to Glenn and Abraham, blood, mention of a brutal way to die, idk what more I guess you have all seen twd so you know what might be in this. Not proofread

A/N as usual the gif is not mine, found it somewhere on the internet. This is not proofread, well half of it is.

Now I tried to do a reaction with all of the people at the line up so sorry with Sasha I guess bc I don’t like her so found it a bit hard to write her as a character that’s close to the reader, and once more thank you for the request, it gave me an excuse to write this

Anyway idk what I think of this, wrote it in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep, so anyway hope you like it.

Everybody dies a little when the brightest soul disappears.

A sea of red water mixed with the gravel and mud on the ground. The trail of blood — that had gone its own path from the puddle it was previously in, could be followed towards two bodies. One of a hunched man, who racked with sobs through his entire body. His hands grasped towards the body before him. Blood still oozed from the head. Or what someone would once have called a head, as it was now just remains of smashed bones and brain goo. The once familiar face was unrecognizable to anyone. No one would ever be able to pinpoint who the body belonged to, because the head atop of it was gone. It had been smashed into a puddle of goo. No one would ever be able to see your smiling face, or the mischievous smirk that pulled at your lips whenever you wanted to rebel a bit. Nor would they ever see the sparkles in your eyes whenever you talked about the things you liked.

No one of the group surrounding the three bodies wanted to acknowledge what had happened. How could they. They’d all just seen three of their family members die, because of their actions. Because of them. The teenager in which the hunched man had taken a tight grip of their hands had warned them about the attack. That nothing good would come out of it, that it wasn’t who they were. Rick had been wrong like everyone else to ignore the teenager’s warnings. In the end it was what cost them your life. Their choice of actions had been the beginning of your end.

Rick couldn’t let the image out of his head, he couldn’t even look at your body as he held you tightly. His eyes stared into the distance at nothing in particular as his mind tried to register what had happened just a few hours ago. His cries had stopped only for his eyes to glaze over once more with tears. He couldn’t help but to think that it was all his fault. He had the final vote on what to do, and his vote caused your death. It caused Negan to seek them out. To line them up. To smash your head with his goddamn wired baseball bat. His goddamn Lucille. He swore to kill Negan if it was the last thing he did, whether you would want him to or not, he needed to. Rick wanted nothing more than revenge. Nothing more than justice and revenge brought to you, Glenn and Abraham.

Not soon after Rick had stopped crying his son had walked over to you and him. His eye was bloodshot by the tears that rolled down his red cheek. And his hand went up to rub his eye off the tears as he tried to control himself, as he sat beside his father. Same as everyone else at the brutal scene he couldn’t let go of the events. How everyone got a look of dread and fear on their face as Negan announced that he’d had to kill two more because of Daryl’s little outburst. Carl had glanced at his father to see that for once under this meeting he held actual fear in his eyes when Negan’s bat had landed in front of you. It was deadly quiet as all of the group watched you stare dead into the eyes of Negan who looked at you with a scary face, gleaming with excitement as he noticed everyone’s reaction.

Negan had watched with glee as everyone went into submission after Lucille had stopped in front of you. He’d felt kinda sorry for you. He didn’t usually kill teenagers but something about you annoyed him so greatly. Maybe it was the way you didn’t look with fear into his eyes, how you held your own, even with the knowledge that you would soon be dead. He didn’t know what it was but he had decided to kill you, well he decided in a way.

Maggie who had lost her husband and father to her child, stared with emptiness at you. She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it if you died as well. She had tried to fight the man holding her down, but to no vain. Her already bloodshot eyes had filled with tears and sobbed had shook through her body as soon as she saw Negan start to swing his bat. She didn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t. But her silent prayer came to no good end.

Rosita was no better than Maggie. Since the first time you met when you and Glenn together with Tara searched for Maggie the two of you had gotten close and she as everyone else got flashes of your lives together. Of all your good and bad memories of everything you had survived. How you’d found an apple tree that hadn’t been destroyed at a random location in the forest and thrown apples at your companions heads as they hadn’t stopped when you told them to. Or how you’d draw drawings with the kids in Alexandria or help hunting and scavenging for food. Getting stuck in a building while a herd of walkers walked past. The blood and the gore of every kill. All of them comforting you while you cried yourself to sleep, all the cuddles you forced them into, especially Rick and Daryl. How you forced them to take a break so that they wouldn’t overwork themselves while doing the exact same thing. Needing help from others to make sure you actually took care of yourself and not just everyone else. It just made them all get to the brink of breaking even quicker as they thought of all your moments together. Not only did memories flash inside your head, nor only Rosita’s they flashed through everyone. You had always looked out for them and what had they given you in return, nothing but death.

Sasha wasn’t especially close to you but the previous death of Abraham and Glenn and now you had her at her breaking point. She might not have known you well but you were a good kid, you helped and knew how to survive. You didn’t take unnecessary risks and you’d helped her through her losses. So she tried nothing more than to break herself away from reality as she heard the bat make contact with your head. It reminded her too much of the other two kills and she couldn’t look through another one, not again.

Eugene only stared at the distance as sobs racked through his body not being able to watch you die. He couldn’t even bring his eyes to look at you afterwards, he’d never be able to erase the short scream of pain that had left your lips. He was at a loss of words and he wouldn’t be able to really function in a few days, much like everyone else. He was scared shitless and he didn’t know for anything in the world what to do or say in the hours that came after.

Negan had looked at everyone, gauging even the slightest reaction out of them. Michonne had watched helplessly at you, she’d tried not to flinch everytime the bat hit you among a sound she’d never wished she ever heard ever in her life. The only thing on her mind was how she taught you how to sword fight or when you hunted a deer together and accidentally fell into a puddle of mudd getting every inch of you covered in it.

Arron, who had been right beside you, wanted to crawl away as your blood splashed onto the right side of him. He remembered all the times you’d gone over to him and Eric to eat pasta not wanting to socialize with the rest of Alexandria. You’d always go to him or Daryl.

Arron felt sick as he felt your warm blood on his cold cheek, and he felt even more sick as he made a glance at Daryl who didn’t do anything else but staring with regret and anger at your body who now laid lifeless on the ground. When Aaron dared a glance at you his throat became thick and a sob threatened to come out but he didn’t make a sound instead he stared at you before he looked with fear, numbness, anger and defeat at Negan.

But it wasn’t until Negan had looked at Rick Carl and Daryl did he notice that he sure as hell picked the wrong one to kill, deep inside, he knew that he’d just started a war. A war that wouldn’t take too long to brew over to the real fight. However he was filled with glee over getting a few peaceful weeks at reveling in his power and control over Alexandria. Maybe that would make the war something never to come, how wrong he had been on that thought.

Daryl felt nothing but guilt as he looked at you and it was all he thought of when he got loaded into the car and the Saviours drove away with him. He regretted having lashed out. Regretted ever getting angry. Daryl knew more than anyone that he’d miss you when you were gone. Like Beth, he’d miss you, even more so than Beth.

Carl had held a strong front, but on the inside he was breaking he lost his best friend and the only kid that had been with him since the beginning of the disaster they now lived in.

Now in the present Carl placed his hand on Rick’s shoulder as everyone surrounded your body (except for Maggie, Sasha, Rosita and Eugene). The two Grimes hugged each other as Carl dug his head into Rick’s chest. The older Grimes, having stopped his crying once more, tried his best to comfort his son while he himself was still breaking.

Rick, like Carl and Daryl, had held a shield with spikes as defense against Negan, as they had all starred with the same thought of killing Negan running through their heads. They had let a numb shield cover them while their enemies still surrounded them. They hadn’t let go of the shield until their enemies were gone. (Or in Daryl’s case until he was alone in the cell he was placed in at the sanctuary).

That day, the day you died, was the day everyone in Alexandria died a little with you. You were the brightest soul in most of their lives and to lose you was one of the worst things to ever happen to any of them.

[re-colligere]

Hnnngggg I hope this doesn't come on too strong but I am absolutely in love with your spy au. AHH it is SO GOOD, the way you've given everybody a specialty role and groovy outfit, and of course the villain/good guys dynamics LET'S GO. It's just like one of those things that makes your brain all "👀"

Your villain agent Joy is so 😳*insert nonexistent emoji of someone proposing with a spiffy diamond ring* I dunno bro something about morally dubious women in suits with manic grins, oh dear. (The way you draw Joy in general is my absolute fav ever. When you draw her smile it really feels like there's love behind it, if that makes sense?? She just radiates sunshine in your style <33 /gen, very pos)

So SO curious about the rest of the Emotions and who is allied with which group, and it's super fascinating to see everyone's relationships switched up in your au. It's all so epic, you do utterly amazing work and I can't wait to see what else you have cooked up. Thanks for sharing your art with us <33

^^ MY HONEST REACTION TO THIS INFORMATION..... HELLO?????!? thank you SO much I'm so happy dappy you're enjoying my spy au so far AGUHJFKDHGRG I'm definitely just stumbling around here and there, though it's starting to get semi-serious...we'll see how it develops :eyes:

I'M GLAD you like evil joy!! I was a little hesitant about the villain group in this au because I don't like making any of the guys too antagonistic...... but tbh it's grown on me a lot. Joy only got in the villain group because I wanted some fuckinn. enemies joyness yuri tbh AND I also thought making Joy evil would be so funny. I love morally dubious women in suits who also manage to be whimsical and silly I'm shaking your hand anon!!! ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH??? WHAT!!!! im so happy to hear oh mygooddddd joy is always such a delight to draw, this is so sweet ;u; TYSM OAHWUHAG <33

and YES i'll keep working on the rest! I've got everyone's roles n dynamics locked in, though of course since I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, things are subject to change. I'm planning on making a post/masterlist/whatever so I can properly compile all the spy stuff (though #spy au is pretty handy on its own already). ALSO yeah it's been super fun working with the characters and their relationships!!! switching up everyone's dynamics is such a fun thought exercise... I could talk about How I eventually arrived at the cast arrangement that I have, but to be honest?? the start of it was random, and the finished cast is also kinda random but a bit more balanced. I'll start getting into the deets of everything once I've got more ideas to present >:]c rubbing my evil hands together. wild how this started as mainly a disear au but man. the story's kinda just unfolding in front of my eyes LMAO

THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN FOR SUCH A WONDERFUL MESSAGE here's an eensy joy for you!! Looking forward to sharing tons more stuff!

[pink-amethyst-tarot]

💌A Message From The Universe💌

P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3

How to pick: Take a deep breath and choose between the three images above. It corelates with the message that is meant for you. Trust your intuiton; only you know what is truly best for you.

P I L E 1 ♡ ~ A New Perspective

Ten of Wands, The High Priestess, The Emperor, The Moon, Eight of Swords (Reversed)

You feel burdened. You feel disconnected from yourself and your intuition. I feel that the man problem, is that you don't trust yourself or your inner voice. Let that voice guide you. Listen to yourself because you know what is best for you. You don't have to listen to everyone who thinks they know what is best for you. With it being the holiday season and Christmas is days away, you may be around family that isn't all that supportive of you and what you want with your life. They have put you down since you were a kid but know that you are not that kid anymore. You are capable of standing on your own two feet and it's time to stop making excuses for their bad behavior. You don't have to keep that kind of negative energy in your life, even if they are your relatives. Just because they are blood related, doesn't mean you have to call them family. For a lot of you, this person is a father figure in your life, but they haven't treated you the way that a father should. You were a kid and you deserved better then, and you deserve better now. Your anxiety around this is very loud but you know what you want to do more than anything. You know what path you want to take, and you know what people you want to cut off. Let yourself be happy. Go into this new year prioritizing your wants, needs, desires, hopes and dreams. It's time someone chose you and who better than yourself. Open up your heart and your mind to new possibilities; a world where you can have what you want. It's time for a new perspective.

Channeled Song: I'm Tired by Labrinth ft. Zendaya

now the tide is rollin' in // I don't wanna win // let it take me, let it take me // I'll be on my way // how long can I stay // in a place that can't contain me // hey Lord, you know, I'm tired // hey, Lord, you know I'm tired //

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P I L E 2 ♡

King of Pentacles, Seven of Cups (Reversed), Four of Wands (Reversed), Nine of Wands, Ace of Pentacles

You have been doing some spring cleaning around your life. You have been making changes that you saw needed to be made and it has really brought you back to reality; almost like you are sobering up. You could also be on a sobriety journey and if you are, know that I am very proud of you and I'm rooting for you. If no one else is in your corner, know that I am. You have been doing a lot of hard work and you should be celebrating yourself but, for some reason, you aren't. You may have this mindset of believing that you can't celebrate because there is so much more work to do. That may be true; we are all works in progress. That doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate and be proud of how far you have come! I'm so very proud of how far you have come. You're looking at all that you still have to do, but you aren't paying attention to what you have done. You can rest, relax and bask in your victories. Take a break because you have earned it. You are meant to be prosperous, and you have new opportunities coming in and you should be confident in taking them because you worked hard to get them. Again, I am so proud of you and all that you have done. Keep going and do not give up.

Channled Song: A Brand New Day by The Wiz Cast

everybody, be glad // because our fear and dread is gone // freedom, you see, has got our hearts singing so joyfully // just look about // you out it to yourself to check it out // can you feel a brand new day? // can you feel a brand new day? //

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P I L E 3 ♡

The Star (Reversed), Two of Pentacles, Four of Swords, The High Priestess, Ace of Pentacles

Your head is not in the right place, right now. You are too focused on the negative and it seems that you have lost hope. You're working to balance things on your own and that is only making things harder for you. You may feel like you're at sea and the boat going up and down with the harsh waves. Let go of the things that you don't need and ask for help with the things that you cannot. I'm getting that you are very overwhelmed at this time. I'm seeing juggling and everyone keeps adding more and more balls, making it so hard to keep up. You don't have to take it. You are allowed to rest and to have some peace and quiet. You may be feeling like you can't take a break right now because, if you don't do it who will? I'll counter that with, why was it set up for you to be the only one who is able to handle things? Why is it you or nobody? Why can't people do it themselves? Sometimes, you just have to say, "if I have to do it, it's not going to get done," and that's that on that. You know that these people are capable and able. They just know they can rely on you to always do it. Stop being reliable. They need to learn to do things on their own and without you because you are not going to always be there.

I don't have a specific channeled song, but I am seeing vacations, beaches and just relaxing, which you deserve, so if you can get that, I suggest that you do.

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LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

[mikuni14]

Jack & Joker - Ep 6

I am constantly fascinated and amazed by this series' ability to combine scenes of comedy, fun and flirtation with scenes showing the dark side of poverty and wealth and how it affects people. Like we see how almost everybody - recently Tattoo and Save - make choices that they would not normally make if not for the lack of options, the lack of ways out, the lack of money for a decent and normal life. We see how even small children are aware of their situation and how they want to lead a normal life, go to school, get an education, live carefree. We also see in the example of Tattoo and Save how often the poor, instead of uniting against the oppressor, the exploiter - throw their own, who have it just as hard, under the bus, so that they can get out of trouble themselves. As Hope, Tattoo and Save did while EACH OF THEM LIVES THE SAME WAY, IN THE SAME PLACE, THEY ARE IN THIS TOGETHER. And yet it is so easy to manipulate them, to turn them against each other, to use them, according to the old rule: divide and conquer. It's also hard to blame them in their situation, when from an early age they had to focus on survival and certainly paid a disproportionately high price for trying to be nice many times. So when they see a quick and easy opportunity to earn money, to get out of trouble, (like the beaten Tattoo afraid for his mother, or Save seeing beaten Hope who still has to go to work when he can barely stand) it's unfortunately understandable that they will behave selfishly... I'm not making excuses for them, they are acting stupidly and wrongly against those who have it just as hard as they do - I'm only saying that I understand their train of thought.

But we also see how money corrupts, destroys, and detaches rich people from reality, in the example of Boss, Aran, Rose, Joke's parents. For these people, dehumanizing others comes exceptionally easily. For Rose, Jack is a prize that she "graciously" cares for, but it doesn't occur to her at all that someone else, maybe less handsome and cute, might suffer because of her. And it doesn't occur to her at all that JACK might suffer - because she doesn't want that, right? So it's as if it happens automatically, because things happen the way she wants, right? How much Jack is a "thing" for the rich is evident from the expression of relief on Boss's face that he can so easily solve the necklace problem: because the payment is "only" Jack - and in his eyes it's.. nothing.

Similarly, for Joke's parents and for Boss, their children are just their extensions, they are to exist only as a fulfillment of their expectations. The worst thing for them is that they might look bad in the eyes of others and they only worry about whether their children won't ruin their perfect image.

It's interesting how the series compares Jack and Joke with the other characters, because Jack and Joke seem immune to these destructive influences and use their "talents" against the rich, and they throw them under the bus with a smile on their faces. In addition, their plans for the future, their actions, focus on others in a similar situation: other poor children, grandma, and in Joke's case - Jack 🤭

Anyway - this series, for being a little campy and super fun, actually doesn't fuck around with social issues 😤🥰

……..

L-O-V-E made me giggle and blush, my jaw dropped when I heard C-O-N-F-E-S-S (what? already?😲), and then my heart broke into a million pieces when I saw the look on Joke's face when it turned out it was just an English lesson💔 or was it really just that? 😏 And it kind of healed a little when I saw the shy and sweet smile of P-R-O-M-I-S-E on Joke's face at the end of the scene 💔🩹 How lovely it all is. How cute they are.

War killed it in this scene, the whole emotional journey he went through, from flirtatious, through shyness, complete disbelief and an obvious attempt to control his dare to hope, through crushing disappointment and discouragement, ending with joy at least from what he thinks Jack offers him now. Whenever I think about it I get goosebumps ✨

..............

The girls in this episode were absolutely adorable and funny 😆

Them -> 😏😆 emoji

[ceasarslegion]

so... you mentioned your "most petty act ever". what is that all about?

I've awoken and can tell this story now

So in university, I lived in a co-ed dorm building with a single huge communal laundry room. I don't know how many of you guys have lived in student residence before, but you discover some truly heinous things about the hygiene habits of now-grown adults when you live somewhere like that. Like people who can't flush the toilet at the age of 19 and others whose mom still had to come over and do their laundry for them every weekend. Thankfully we were all in single person dorms so I never had to deal with a close-quarters roommate plucked from this menagerie of mold-infested business majors (rotman commerce I'm biting biting biting you)

After the lint trap fire occurred in my first year, the building steward had all the coin operation attachments taken off, hoping that not having to pay for the laundry at the school we were already paying to both live at and the tuition fees for would keep people from overloading the machines. This was not the case, for i would roughly estimate my building had around 300 students in it, and there were 4 washers and 5 dryers for everybody. Working nights and having afternoon and night classes I did my laundry at 1am on Wednesdays and still had to fight for a spot.

One of these times, I tossed a load into the only free washer, and came back 15 minutes later on my way through this basement tunnel it was in that connected to the main student building and popped my head in to check how much time was left. All my clothes had been taken out soaking wet mid-wash and someone else had put their clothes in instead.

We had a rule that if you're not back for your clothes 10 minutes after the wash cycle ended, we could take them out for you and take the machine. May I highlight AFTER the wash cycle ended. Not from when it STARTED?? Needless to say I was pissed. It was also the middle of winter, and -15 out. So in a fit of rage at the sheer audacity of this chucklefuck I wrote out a note telling them they could find their clothes drying outside since they were so impatient that they couldn't wait for someone else to finish washing their clothes and thought they wouldn't find out, took all their shit out mid wash, put mine back in, and dropped their full laundry basket in the courtyard. I never saw who it was or how they reacted to that, but I think you can figure out what happens when soaking wet clothes are exposed to the elements in -15 C, and I never had that problem again.

[sunfyre-targaryen]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S2E1

(my personal opinion)

let's begin from the start. i almost cried when i saw the north and the wall again and also ice on cregan's shoulders.

JACE: the definition of "prince of dragonstone". the scene where he comes back from the north to dragonstone and report the results of his missions to rhaenyra while having tearing eyes for luke, killed me. it was clear that he felt guilty for what happened to luke.

CREGAN: absolutely wonderful. the stark i wanted. even if we haven't seen much of him.

RHAENYS: when i heard her speaking in high valyrian to meleys, i screamed "finally!". she put daemon at his place with two sentences, she slayed.

DAEMON: i think he should remember himself that rhaenyra has the power, she is the queen, not him.

CORLYS AND ALYN: i like the story about alyn saving corlys during the battle of the stepstones. i hope that the fact that he may be his son comes out and honestly i can't wait to see addam.

RHAENYRA: she said only four words and took the scene from everybody else. her grief, her pain touched me deeply. emma's interpretation was just perfect.

ALICENT: when she prays for her mother, viserys and luke got me emotional. i liked a lot her conversation with otto and also the fact that we saw her power slowly fading way now that she is a dowager queen. i didn't like that almost every alicent's scene was about her relationship with crispy cole. kinda useless for the plot in my opinion.

AEGON: finally more time screen for him. i loved seeing him being a good father. and i liked the fact that they portrayed him as a good person, maybe not the perfect king, but not evil and cruel (like his brother). i loved the fact that he is trying to do anything to not resemble his father.

OTTO: he is figuring out that aegon is not a doll in his hands and that he cannot control him like he did with viserys.

HELAENA: phia's interpreation was absolutely wonderful. the fact that she completely dissociate during b&c and how she reacts got me goosebumps. her eyes. absolutely a perfect reaction for dreamer helaena. and when she says "the killed the boy", the fact that she doesn't call him by his name or "my son", like she already knew about it all.

AEMOND: i cannot stand him. he is only behaving like that because he has vhagar. okay, great warrior but come on.

BAELA AND RHAENA: they were absolutely beautiful.

LUKE'S FUNERAL: the fact that joff burned the toy (the innocence), jace burned the child's clothing (the childhood) and rhaenyra burned the boy's clothing (future adulthood). luke's life turning into ashes.

B&C: different from the book, yes (thanks god). i cried the entire scene, it was awful...i can't even describe it.

in the end, i liked this ep. very much.

the tapestry at the beginning was just wonderful.

can't wait for ep.2

[mylarena]

EVERYBODY shut the fuck up. coffee shop barista au. soap is a barista and this one guy comes in at the same time on the dot every day and orders the same thing every time. (its straight black coffee with so much added caffeine that soap thinks it could kill a horse.) the man is like, 6′4″ and built like a brick house. soap is a pretty big guy himself, but god does he makes him look tiny.

his hair is blond, light enough that in some lighting it looks nearly silver. it seems to be a mess constantly- wavy locks that curl around the tips of his ears, fringe just long enough to partially cover one of his eyes. just long enough that someone could reach up and tuck it behind his ear. and soap wants to, if not just to get to feel his hair- it looks so fucking soft and smooth and soap wonders what his hair care routine is. (because surely you cant get hair that good without putting work into it, right?)

his upper face is littered with scars; over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, under his eye. theres probably more, but anytime he shows up he has a face mask on, one with some dumb skeleton design on it that would probably look stupid on anyone else, but somehow he makes it work.

and his eyes- god, his eyes. his left eye is a brilliant shade of blue with a shock of green at the bottom, something soap has never seen before. the two colors seem to clash and meld together all at once, an enchanting phenomenon that soap wants to study. his right eye is a deep, gorgeous chocolate brown, swirled with a lighter caramel tone that brightens his eye but makes his gaze no less intense. anytime he locks eyes with soap, he loses his breath- hes never seen someone so fucking beautiful in his entire life.

his voice is low and gravelly, a deep, accented rumble that soap swears to god he can feel in his bones. the man doesnt mince his words, but every time he does speak soap can feel himself shiver. he hopes it isnt visible.

the only name he gives for his order is ghost. that isnt enough for soap. he wants his first name- his real name, a name he can place to the beautiful face that lurks in his mind. (and in his sketchbooks.)

so he tries to pry it out of the man. he offers his own name first, john mactavish, but ghost doesnt give him his own name, instead opting nod and hum. he takes to calling soap ‘johnny’, something that soap has notably refused to let anyone call him, no matter how close they are. he allows ghost to call him it, finding the heat it spreads through his body pleasant and welcoming it. gaz, his fellow barista, is disgruntled when he finds out that soap is letting someone call him johnny when he was firmly denied the permission to do so himself.

every day soap asks for a name for the coffee, hoping that one day he’ll slip and tell him, but he never does. its always ghost, you know this, johnny. he keeps trying despite the ineffectiveness.

sometimes he throws out guesses. over time they get increasingly ridiculous, trying to get a huff or a snort out of the man when he looks at his cup. whatever name he chooses is accompanied by some shitty dad joke- one time ghost had told one that was god awful, but soap could see the glee in his eyes when he groaned and complained. he sees ghost look at the writing everytime he hands over the drink, and he adores the amusement he sees dancing in his gaze at the jokes, so he keeps it up.

their banter shifts from friendly teasing to flirting constantly- oftentimes mid-conversation. sometimes its soap who does it, (”the maaask... take it off?” “show my face?” “yes.” “no.” “are you ugly?” “quite the opposite.” “i doubt that.”) and other times its ghost. (”you like tequila?” “could use one right about now.” “id murder for a whiskey.” “you mean scotch?” “i drink bourbon.” “like a good ol’ boy...” “...  i love kentucky.” “yer out o’ yer mind, ghost.” “thats for sure.”)

(gaz is this fucking close to complaining to price about the sexual tension around them. if he has to deal with soap making eyes at this customer for one more fucking minute he thinks hes going to snap.)

[fictionkinfessions]

I don't know if there are any Scars on here, but if you're there, hi. I just... Have a few things I need to say.

First of all, I'm sorry for how I behaved in Double Life with our bond. It really wasn't fair to you at all... God, I was so lucky to have you with me again and I ran away because I was afraid of hurting you. It feels like every time we're together, you end up dying because of me, and I can't take anything else like the end of Third Life.

You're an idiot and you get in trouble all the time and I pretend like all of that drives me mad but I miss screaming your name as you dive into danger yet again. I know I've acted like being with you was the worst outcome a lot, but what I really wish I could have said was just-

I love you so much and I'm afraid of hurting you again, or that I'll make some mistake and somehow ruin what we have forever, and that would be worse than permadeath. You're so kind and charming and sweet despite everything. You always see the best in people but you're also a master of chaos (which I can totally get behind, you know me), you're genuinely brilliant - no matter how much you try to say you aren't - and you always can cheer me and everybody else up. You're the best person I've ever met, and I miss you so much that it hurts. Sometimes I'll hear a voice in the crowd and think it's yours, and just for a moment I'll have hope that I'll get to see your stupid smile and your stupid jokes and hear your stupid laughter and the way you stumble over your words when you get nervous and see how your eyes sparkle when you're about to set something on fire or steal somebody's clothes or a million other tiny things that I miss more than anything.

Maybe you don't think of me the same way or so often and this is just wishful thinking. I've looked everywhere and I can't seem to find you. I don't know what to do anymore, Scar... I don't know. I love you. I'm sorry. Goodbye.

- (c!) Grian (Life SMP/Hermitcraft)

w

[siderealsandman]

just finished reading mending warped designs and im so sorry bc you probably heart this a lot so i mean it in the most respectful way possible but... are you abandoning that fic? 😭 or are you just on an undefinite hiatus?

i NEVER read fics that are unfinished, but after finishing T&C, i simply HAD to venture into that alley. and im not disappointed. as much as i hate angst, your writing and world builiding is simply miraculous, for lack of a better word. the work you've done is a masterpiece, and i mean it. might be the best work of fiction ive ever read. it would be a real shame to abandon it, but i understand if you have things that are more important :) your health and happiness should be your utmost priority ❤️

that being said, i really do hope you choose to continue writing it. masterpieces don't just appear, they take a lot of work and dedication and im so, SO glad you took the time to put in the effort to create something so beautiful.

best of wishes xx

Thank you so much! I appreciate all the love and feedback I've gotten on my ML fics over the years.

With Miraculous I feel like I kinda grew out of the setting/fandom (doesn't help that most of my friends I met in it moved on) but overall T&C came from a place of frustration with canon I no longer feel. That and MWD had me with the worst case of writer's block that I resolved by writing something else (two something else's).

I have the last scene of MWD written but need to put together the connective tissue which I find it hard to get in a headspace to write. When I have time to write, I typically want to tend to The Games of Divinity or Devil Summoner: Akechi Goro. I do plan on finishing it...but can't promise when.

If you're interested, however, I do have the final scene below

Context: Marinette and Adrien are at a party with the rest of the heroes when Dr. Oliver attacks again, leading the pair of them to leave and take down their enemy while Team Paris rests.

Despite the crowds of people fleeing for their safety, Marinette was in a better mood than she had been in for a long time. 

"Now this feels familiar," Adrien mused, tugging Marinette out of the way of a pack of panicked tourists. "Everybody in their right minds is running away from danger, and here we are running towards it." 

"Must be something wrong with us," Marinette chuckled. 

"Of course there is," Adrien said, tugging her into an empty cafe. "If we were normal, we wouldn't have volunteered." 

Two flashes of light later and Ladybug led her partner out the other entrance and onto the rapidly emptying street. "I wonder what the venn diagram of lunatics and superheros looks like." 

"It's basically a circle," Chat Noir said as some of the people fleeing for their lives slowed down to take a picture.

"Go get em Ladybug!" One person yelled as they ran to safety. 

"Kick his ass Ladybug!" 

"Good to see you're back Ladybug!" 

"Oh my god Ladybug!" 

"Ladybug, can I have your number-" 

"Hey, you know what's cooler than Ladybug? Not being destroyed by dinosaurs; get to safety before someone T-Wrecks you," Chat Noir said, shooing a small crowd of pedestrians towards a bunker. "Go on, get! Jeez, you need to have a word with your fan club about personal safety." 

"Don't tell me you're jealous of all the attention I'm getting," Ladybug chuckled. 

"I've spent the last four years deliberately trying to avoid attention," Chat Noir sniffed. "Besides, Paris is kinda slow to forget; I'm sure most of these people still think I was up to something fishy with Hawky." 

"I get the crowds of screaming fans, you get all the superhero clout," Ladybug said, awkwardly waving at a crowd of passing tourists all delaying their escape to snap pictures of the newly returned heroes. "Somehow I think you got the better deal." 

"Now who's jealous?" Chat Noir asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "They'll come around…I'll make sure of it." 

Ladybug nodded, noticing the furtive glances sent Chat Noir's direction. "Yeah…ditto." 

Ladybug stopped in the middle of the street, watching Chat Noir's back as he stepped past her. "Hey…are you sure about this?" 

"What, running solo against a guy with some lab-grown dinosaurs?" Chat Noir chuckled. "What's there to worry about?" 

"No, I meant…" Ladybug trailed off with a shake of her head. "Forget it." 

"I know what you meant," Chat Noir said, glancing over his shoulder. Somehow, the spectral eye that looked her over didn't seem as threatening as it used to be. There were glimmers of Adrien, her Adrien, under the overwhelming mantle of Chat Noir. Enough for Ladybug to latch on to as he smiled. 

"I'm here because I want to be," Chat Noir said, turning around and leaning on his staff. "Because I want to try…I don't need to be sure about anything else." 

That doesn't scare you? Ladybug thought. 

Who says it doesn't? Chat Noir thought back with a wink. "You should spend a little less brain power worrying about me, Ladybug; we're gonna need those smarts to send these creeps back to the Jurassic period." 

"I thought I'd let you take the lead on this one," Ladybug said, falling back into step beside Chat Noir. "Give you a chance to flex your own brainpower." 

"And I thought I told you I have one strategy," Chat Noir said. "Everything else is just tactics. Besides, what is the correct strategy to deal with a man who has living fossils at his beck and-" 

A pterodactyl shaped drone swooped low overhead, launching an electromagnetic rocket at the door of a nearby bank and blowing it clean off its hinges. 

"Wait…those are the dinosaurs we're supposed to be fighting?!" Chat Noir huffed, glaring at the drone as it zipped away. 

"Yyyyyeah?" Ladybug said. "What's wrong?" 

"They're…they're robots!" Chat Noir said. "Just…just some stupid robots!"

 "What did you think he had actual dinosaurs for us to-" Ladybug stopped short as she saw the almost heartbroken look on Chat Noir's face. "Oh…oh my god, you actually thought we were fighting real dinosaurs?!" 

"I've seen weirder stuff than that!" Chat Noir said, huffing as Ladybug doubled over, clutching her stomach as uncontrollable peals of laughter echoed off the mostly empty street. "I was told this was a professor who uses dinosaurs to rob banks but apparently he's just a nerd with a Transformers fetish!" 

"Oh…Oh, I'm sorry, is this beneath you?" Ladybug laughed. "What, you fight dragons for a couple of years and suddenly you're too good for robot dinosaurs?" 

"I'm the apex predator; not some…some…ugh, I'm so disappointed I can't even metaphor correctly!" Chat Noir growled. 

"His Majesty only deigns to sully his little kitty paws with real monsters, thank you very much," Ladybug wheezed. "Theeeeee Apex Predator needs worthwhile prey; none of this toy-aisle garbage."

"Shut up," Chat Noir laughed, completely oblivious to the dinobot stomping down the street behind him until the hot gust of steam from its nostrils washed over the back of his head. Something about the way Ladybug laughed had a funny habit of making him forget the kind of danger he was in, even after so much time apart. 

"No, don't even bother!" Chat Noir said, ignoring the robotic snarl that came from the dinobot. "It's ruined! This whole day is totally ruined! I thought we were going up against someone worth our time but all we got is a model kit builder and his army of toys!"

"Hey!" A booming voice shouted as a large pterodactyl drone descended, powered by hovering jets that only seemed to piss Chat Noir off more. The top opened and out stepped an equally angry looking professor in a black lab coat and goggles. 

"And I'm guessing that's our target," Ladybug said, flicking the gigantic T-Rex in the nose as it leaned in closer to her and leaving a divot in the machine's steel frame. 

"Who dares question the paleontological engineering genius of-" Dr. Oliver stopped as he spotted Chat Noir. "...Chat Noir?" 

"No, I'm a very disappointed kitty who wanted to chase lizards today," Chat Noir said. 

"And…" Dr. Oliver pointed at Ladybug. "Wait, when did you get back?" 

"Three days ago; haven't you heard?" Ladybug said, bumping her shoulder into Chat Noir's. 

"I was in jail on bank robbing charges," Dr. Oliver said. "They only played football and reruns of terrible BBC baking shows." 

"Well, here's the only news story you need," Ladybug said. "Ladybug and Chat Noir are back in Paris." 

"And more than ready to stick our Little-foots up your tin can tailpipe, you tacky old veloci-loser!" Chat Noir spat, cracking his knuckles. "Get my hopes up, will you…" 

"You got your hopes up," Ladybug pointed. 

"And I'm taking it out on him!" Chat Noir said, brandishing his baton in the perturbed professor's face. "Come out of the Zord with your hands in the air and I'll see if we can get you some Land Before Time DVD's to entertain you in prison." 

"But…how?!" Dr. Oliver stammered. "How are you…I-I thought you two were finished!" 

"We were, but…" Ladybug spared a smile for her partner. "Life…finds a way." 

The hiss of dozens of whirring servos drew her attention to the small pack of robotic velociraptors that closed in around them. At the far end of the street, a large mechanical triceratops angled three cannons in their direction while a small pack of pterodactyl drones whirred overhead. 

"So…little guys are worth one point?" 

"Big suckers are at least five," Ladybug agreed. 

"And the big guy has to be a dime," Chat Noir said, teeth flashing as he snapped his staff out to full length. "No cheating now." 

"I trust you'll keep me honest," Ladybug said, springing into the air alongside her partner. They hung for a moment in mid air, suspended above the encroaching crowd of mechanical monsters, before diving like twin falling stars into the melee, back to back as it always should have been.