#mind you i in no way shape or form was being normal about this myself so i'm taking my own advice here too

[starboymuse]

One day my overthinking and crash out is gonna kill me😪

i’m gonna be real honest with some of you rn just know i say it with love - you are giving this girl waaaaaay too much power over you and your thoughts

she’s shown us time and time again that she’s trolling the fuck out of everyone with choosing when to be mia on socials, what she posts, when she posts etc. and with that she’s monetizing it bc she knows ppl are stalking her

idk how many different ways joey’s actions can portray he’s not claiming that girl let alone the fact that her own PR team allowed a publication to call her a hookup bc that’s ALL she is and his camp wouldn’t say a word to defend her

i get it i’m a gossip feen too and have a lot.. a lot ! of hate in my heart for her but it gets to a point where it’s just too much. just let it run its course and allow everyone and their mom to continue clowning her in her comments as they should!

[richarlotte]

High Maintenance, High Return. 

I am someone who deeply believes in being the best. I was raised to believe that God is beautiful and loves beauty, and so there is a part of me that strives for beauty in everything I do. I am incredibly high maintenance; I take care of my mind, body, and soul; I strive to treat people beautifully, and I’m incredibly particular about who I allow into my life. For me, part of being high maintenance is protecting my energy and only allowing quality into my life. When it comes to my romantic relationships, I won’t date any man who is insecure about the way I choose to present myself to the world and go about my life. If you are a high maintenance woman in any way, shape, or form, you need to be with someone who understands that. I invest in myself, experience a high return in investments, and I think that coming to the realization that my life was best lived with an understanding that it’s perfectly normal to be high maintenance changed the way I view myself, how I spend my money, and how I invest my time. This is a direct result of how I was raised and it took me a long time to realize that caring for myself isn’t shameful; I should be my first priority. 

Elevate & Influence!

This is something I learned from tagging along to a newly made friend’s JL meetings in NYC. You should be focused on elevating yourself and influencing others to do better. Does this mean that you have to actively take people under your wing and mentor them? No, what I mean is that people should look up to you and be influenced to do better. For example, one of my good friends on campus is incredibly involved in day-to-day life; she’s always doing something out of the ordinary and encouraging us to come along with her. She’s influenced me to do more, explore more, and try the things that I’m uncomfortable doing. She’s one of those people who will never say no when you ask her if she wants to try something foreign, and knowing her has helped me become more adventurous and open-minded than I could ever imagine. Elevating yourself is always going to be positive; you might not think it possible, but as you elevate yourself, surround yourself with uplifting and inspiring people, and influence others to do the same, your life will slowly improve. 

Richarlotte x

[slut4menig]

Guys my age

Paring: Luke Castellan x Curvy AphroditeFem! reader

Req: hii can you please write a prompt in which Luke is 19 and reader is 16 and he thinks the age gap is too much as doesn’t see her as anything more than the kid he is counselling, but she’s an Aphrodite child so she doesn’t mind the chase, you can make it smut or not iyw!! also do you maybe mind making the reader like chubby/curvy? i love your work!! 🫶🫶 - 💜 Anon

ofc u can be!!! also omg i actually kinda hate this but whatever… hope u enjoy!

Warnings: MDNI, big age gap, cursing, drinking, use of smoking, reader implied to be curvy

Luke Castellan, a 19-year-old at the infamous Camp Half-Blood, stood tall and pretty almost like a loyal dog, and that made it near impossible for anyone to resist his charm, he’d had a go at almost all of the girls at camp half-blood, including all of my beautiful half sisters.

His unruly curly brown hair framed his handsome face, and deep brown eyes, which seemed to look straight into my soul whenever he gave me a task, even something as simple as asking to clean my dorm, held a hint of mystery. A small scar on his upper cheek added an intriguing touch to his otherwise perfect appearance. Luke is the epitome of a golden boy, capturing the hearts and attention of girls of all ages, young and old.

I’m only 16, luke had never dare even batted an eye at me last year but this year, I came back to camp, determined for a chance to stare into those beautiful eyes and have it mean something for him too. Since last year, i’d started to… well develop. My body had formed into a nicer shape, i certainly grew into myself. My chest was definitely a lot bigger, I started using normal bras, no more training ones. My thighs were thick and beautiful, something many men wished to be suffocated with.

“hey gorgeous girl, you’ve certainly grown up” My half sister Silene winked at me, I only ever see her at camp and I was packing my stuff into my bed. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her.

“Silene seriously? i haven’t seen you in a year and that’s the best you’ve got?” I immediately hug the girl as she chuckles quite a bit at my sharp tongue, we all start talking to our other half siblings and that’s when one of them goes

“hey y/n, you do realise you’re now technically old enough to be going to the bonfire party?” my half sister smirked

The bonfire party was tradition, 16 and up campers, it involved heavy amounts of marijuana, alcohol and other illegal shit. It was an excuse for people to get drunk and hook up and deeply regret it the next morning or so i’ve heard. It’s almost like a “back to school” party but instead it’s back to camp. It happens on the one night that Chiron is away and Mr D is in charge, of course, you bribe him with some alcohol and suddenly everyone’s happy.

“yeah uhh i’ll go, we should start getting ready then i guess?” i say, a bit on edge of what’s about to happen.

As i’m getting ready, i’m being handed a black lacy corset top showing off my double d tits extremely well, i look in the mirror and smirk, this is one of those times i KNOW i looks good. I wore a mini skirt along with it, sure i looked like a slut but hey? what can you do?

I enter the Bonfire, the glow of the fire casually illuminating my face in a perfect light. In hand was a red solo cup with… tequila and some other concoction i’ve been handed, i take a sip and spot him. Luke Castellan, my camp counsellor and the man I was practically already on my knees for. He made his way over to me and looked me in the eyes.

“Y/n? wow you look… grown up” His eyes clearly wandered around my tits a lot more than they should’ve, and he almost looked as if he scolded his self for looking but i wanted him to, this whole outfit was for him

“oh yeah? in what way?” i smirked and slightly tilted my head, trying to seduce the boy infront of me

He cleared his throat and came back to eye contact “You’re uh.. you’re taller” no i wasn’t, it was a blatant lie, i hadn’t grown an inch over the year, i knew what he was talking about and smiled to myself about it.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Luke and I both turn our heads to a very drunken silene who’s perched up on the table, some guy with his arms wrapped around her waist and mouth colliding with her jaw.

And who was anyone to say no to my beautiful sister? Soon everyone found themselves sitting in this circle, bottles of Tequila, Vodka, Whiskey, Jäger and other liquors in the middle of the circle, ready to be there for whoever backed down from a dare.

“Clarisse, truth or dare” An Apollo girl slurred, looking into clarisses eyes from across rhe circle. Clarisse smirked and in return took a sip of her drink.

“Dare” It wasn’t surprising, her choosing dare.

“I dare you, to kiss me” the apollo girl smirked at clarisse, they obviously had tension and clarisse made her way over and kissed her, passionately i might add. The entire circle cheered and cheered.

Clarisse suddenly averted her gaze to me, we’d been friends for a while now whenever I hung out with silene she would be there.

“y/n, truth or dare?” I felt myself nervously stare at her, a group of maybe 25 people waiting on my reply to this one simple question she’d asked. It wasn’t that hard of a question so i gave a simple answer.

“Dare” I wanted to play it safe, truth was too much for me right now, I knew it would end up in me having to tell a huge secret and I just wanted a casual night, nothing too crazy, which was why i was baffled as to what came out of Clarisses mouth next.

“I dare you to spend 7 minutes of heaven with the person you think is the hottest, and don’t try bullshit your way out of this lovebug” Clarisse was obviously feeling happy with herself, she was tipsy as one could be. Actually no, she was just shitfaced.

I felt my body begin to grow weak and i scanned my eyes across the room, except i found one thing. No matter how hard I looked around the room, my eyes were always drawn back to Luke castellan. The man himself.

“uhh luke…” I said, everyone cheered and Luke looked at me a bit confused as to why I’d chosen him. Nevertheless we walked into a secluded spot in the woods.

“Y/n I uh… why’d you pick me?” Luke looked at me as he leaned against a tree and i stood there looking up at him

“why not, they said to pick the hottest person there” I shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant.

“You do realise you’re far too young for me, sweetheart?” Luke muttered at me in a deepish voice.

“I know but what did three years ever do to anyone?” I smirked, it was time for me to use the powers my mother gave me and capture this boys beautiful heart.

“Y/n i- i was- no! still am, your camp counsellor, you don’t think this is a little weird? you coming onto me.. I mean, you’re hot but” Luke said conflicted with his own thoughts at this point.

“Oh would you shut up castellan I saw you looking at my tits earlier, don’t act like you’re surprised i’m coming onto you” I smirked at him, giving him doe eyes and fluttering my lashes

“you’re such a brat, you know that? you need to shut up, it will get you killed someday, that pretty mouth of yours” Luke furrowed his brows and almost scolded me

“how about you make me shut up?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered this seductively into his ear.

“oh I can think of a few ways” Suddenly I felt Luke’s warm tongue slip into my mouth, his deep kiss sending sparks to my pussy.

he pushes me against a tree, his hands roaming over my body possessively. “Fuck, you're so young and pretty, tell me, you ever fucked anyone?” Luke continued to say as he slipped his hands to the back bit of my corset top

“n-no, i’m all yours” i managed to breathe out, goosebumps trailing over my body from his cold hands unclasing my top.

His hands reach under my bra, feeling my soft skin. He leans in, kissing my neck, my collarbone, as his hands grope my breasts. His hot breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine. “that’s perfect pretty girl, let me take care of you okay?” luke then continued to kiss my forehead and unclasp my bra

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with desire. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now," he says, his voice low and husky. He starts to slip his hand up my mini skirt, his hands shaking slightly. “I bet your pussy is so tight and wet...”

i groan at his words, whimpering at the boys touch. “I- do it…”

“I can’t, I can’t ruin something as perfectly innocent as you” Luke looked at me in the eyes, piercing me with his gaze

“i’m less innocent than you think you know” I trailed my hands to unbutton his jeans and i watch his eyes widen

“what did you lie on your book log in elementary school?” he chuckled trying to distract himself from his hard on being revealed

“yknow i hump my pillow most nights wishing it was your dick” i whispered in his ear, i could feel the head flush on his face as his erection was poking into my thigh.

“fuck… pretty girl… that’s so hot, i wanna fuck you senseless, show you what a man is” he collided his lips to my collarbone and sloppily kissed it, his hands making his way to my soaked panties, rubbing it through them

“all soaked for me, pretty?” he looked up at me as i nodded, biting my lip to hold back a moan. I felt him slide my underwear off and crouch down, i felt the warmth of his hot breath against my sticky wet pussy, his tongue beginning to lap it, finding my clit and sucking on it with a pop.

I became a moaning mess, begging for mercy and for luke to continue fucking my hole with his tongue just the way he did. “mmmph~”

His hands spread my thighs wider apart as his mouth works its magic. His tongue swirls around my wet, throbbing flesh, sucking and licking with expertise. I can't help but moan loudly, my fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. “Luke... please...”

He can feel my body shaking with need as he continues to eat me out, his own arousal growing with each moan that escapes my lips. He sucks my clit hard, his fingers sliding inside me, curves up to rub against my G-spot. “Come for me, baby...”

His fingers pump in and out of me in a rhythm that matches his tongue on my swollen bud. The sensations overwhelm me, and I dig my heels into his back, shamelessly bucking against his face as I shatter, screaming out his name. “Luke...Luke...”

As I reach my peak, something inside me breaks. I convulse hard, and suddenly, a rush of liquid gushes out of me, drenching Luke's face. He moans approvingly, lapping up every drop like a thirsty man.

I become red from embarrassment and stare at the man in horror.. “oh my god luke did i- did i just pee on you?” Luke did nothing but grin at me, his wet face glistening in the moonlight

“No baby, it’s called squirting and it was the hottest thing ever” he grabbed my hands away from my face

After cleaning me up with his tongue, Luke gently lifts my legs over his shoulders, positioning himself at my entrance. He looks into my eyes, his own filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. “Okay, beautiful girl, this is going to hurt, but I'll be gentle”

I look up at him, tears welling in my eyes. He smiles softly, "Good girl. It'll start feeling good soon, I promise." He leans down to kiss me, his hips pulling back slightly before pushing in again, deeper this time.

As he continues to move in and out of me, his pace picking up slightly, Luke leans down to take one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. His thumb finds my swollen bud, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Luke... oh god, Luke..."

I cry out as my orgasm hits, my vision blurring, my body trembling. Luke doesn't stop, fucking me through my climax, his own need evident in his face. "Fuck, pretty girl, you're so fucking tight right now. I can feel your little pussy squeezing me."

As he thrusts into me, his pace becomes erratic, his breathing heavy. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Y/n. I don't know where to put it all," he groans, his eyes wild with need. "Where do you want it, huh?"

I gave Luke those oh so beautifully innocent doe eyes he’s currently corrupting, i batter my eyelashes and whimper as i speak

“I want you to do it inside of me luke” Luke’s eyes widen at the prospect but doesn’t have time and gives in.

“You’re lucky i can’t say no to those beautiful eyes of yours baby” With a low growl, Luke buries his face in my neck, his body convulsing as he spills inside me. He jerks his hips against me several times, unloading more and more of his warmth into my inexperienced core. "Oh gods."

He pulls out and we both lay there breathlessly.

“that was a lot more than 7 minutes…” i whisper sheepishly as i catch my breath and put my clothes on

“i’m sorry i had to be your first time… you do know we can’t be together right? i mean you should really be with a guy your age?” Luke refused to look in my eyes as he slipped his boxers on

“but guys my age aren’t… you”

[imdead770]

The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Sodapop Curtis

Authors Note - I had to hype myself up for this because I procrastinate too much.

Sodapop Curtis -

• I feel like writing this is so simple because this man is concerningly affectionate??

• There's so many sweet things he'd do

• Whenever he started flirting nobody even noticed because he's like that naturally

• Unlike Dallas he actually asked you out straight up.

• He almost threw up before asking you and was literally jumping up and down when he got home

• Darry had to grip his shoulders to keep him on the ground

• He wouldn't shut up about you??

• Before and after you started dating, you're his conversation

• The gang is so sick of it

• Your first date was so perfect

• He'd do everything

• Open doors for you, push your hair behind your ear

• 😭❤️

• Whenever you were driving to your date, he hyped himself up to hold your hand

• But when you beat him to it he almost wrecked the car

• He was smiling the whole time after that

• He was already smiling, but now it was full out grinning

• Compliments.

• Every fucking day.

• Your hair, your outfit, your body, your eyes, your voice, your personality

• Makes sure you know just how perfect you are everyday.

• Your first kiss.

• Fuck romcoms, this was so much better.

• 100% used some shit pickup line on the end of your first date just to kiss you

" darlin'.. what kinda lipgloss you got on? "

" strawberry.. why? "

" mind if I have a taste? "

• Screaming. Crying. Hollering.

• He was so surprised it actually worked

• Like Dallas, pet names are just normal at this point.

• Darlin', sweetheart, doll, baby

• Either that or some really sappy shit like sweetcheeks

• He's super sweet but I know damn well Sandy made a dent in him

• You know how he's super affectionate? He needs just as much affection.

• A lot of times you just lay down, hold each other and talk.

• You lying with your head on his chest, him playing with your hair as he talked about the time Steve nearly burned off his hair at DX.

• He's always toucuing you in some way shape or form

• Holding your hand, resting his hand on your thigh as he drives, kissing your cheek

• He's a PDA whore.

• Tries to help you with your homework but it ends up with him being way more confused then you.

" Hun, I gotta admit.. I ain't cut out for this. Go ask Dar. "

• Takes you out every Saturday

• Normally to the drive-in or some diner the gang talked about

• He's so loyal to you it's not even funny.

• Tells you every night about the girls who flirted with him at DX.

" You wouldn't believe it doll. I told her I ain't interested 8 times, everytime she just flipped her hair and kept on talkin'. "

• You always laugh your ass off because all these girls think they have a chance

• But you know damn well Soda would never do that

• One time a girl flirted with Soda infront of you

" You're real' sweet n' all, but I got a girlfriend "

" Aw cmon.. just cheat.. for me "

• The way you verbally harassed her.

• Sodapop nearly made out with you right then and there

• He 100% said I love you within the first month

• Almost cried when you said it back

• Talks about your future a lot

" How 'bout we name our kid Brooke? "

" I'm never havin' kids, Soda "

" Aw c'mon... can ya' imagine how good lookin' they'd be? "

• Kisses you an ass ton

• Always holds you close near the gang because he knows damn well half of them would fuck you given the chance 💀

• Saves up money to get you gifts

• Tries to remember the things you like for gifts but always scrambles it around

• Loves when you visit him at DX

• Makes his work days 11x better

• Literally so sweet to you

• You're crying? He'd literally drop everything to comfort you. Tired? He's already asleep with you.

• Talks about cars way too much

• Every day you have to explain you don't know what the fuck a carburetor is

• He's so used to having you around he has no idea how to operate without you anymore

• Like if you start sleeping together every night (keep it pg) and you have a school trip or something, he genuinely can't sleep

• He literally has to hold the pillow to sleep.

• Ponyboy was basically kicked out of the room because of you

• Still mad at you for that

• Your voice puts him to sleep

• If he lays on you while you're talking and you start playing with his hair, he'll literally be out in 2 minutes tops.

• He literally loves you so much and reminds you every chance he gets it

• The gang teases him but he doesn't care because you're way better than any of their girlfriends

• He's so perfect??

• Like you don't even understand how God did this.

• He's hot as hell, he's sweet, funny, caring

• He's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

• I love him so much 😔❤️

Steve's next

[gravehags]

desinare

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: awwww look it's a pre-relationship fic just like old times, dinner party, reader meeting the papas, reader and copia being awkward little weirdos with baby crushes, papa nihil slander, references to other curator reader fics

Words: 3,784

Summary: Your very kind cardinal friend has invited you for a meal with three Satanic popes. Surely there's a proverb about this.

a/n: i had so so so much fun writing this lmao i didn't realize how much i missed writing them pre-relationship. my beloved nerds.

~~~

“Eh, signorina?”

“Fuck!” you yelp, dropping the stack of folders you were holding in shock. “Shit…sorry Cardinal. How do you move so quietly with all that fabric on?”

“M-many years of practice, heh,” he kicks himself for how stupid he sounds, wringing his hands while you smile kindly up at him as you stoop to pick up your papers.

“Teach me how some time? I’m always falling over myself. I’d love to have even an ounce of your grace.”

He can feel his ears burn as a dopey grin spreads across his face. She complimented you. Now compliment her back. Go on, say something charming, idiota.

“Dancing!” he half-shouts, making you jump. You fucking fool. “I…I mean I learned how…how to be graceful from dancing. Ballet. In my youth.”

You’re making an impressed face now which is worlds better from the look of terror you previously wore when he barked at you like a senile chihuahua.

“The Cardinal is a dancer?” you murmur, eyes glittering, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Oh, it’s been years,” he blushes, “this old body doesn’t move the way it used to.”

He swears he sees your eyes flick up and down his form and a tiny smirk lift your lips.

“I don’t buy that for a second, Cardinal.”

Are you flirting with him? You turn to busy herself with organizing your folders but Copia can see the pink tinge at the tips of your ears.

“Do you like bolognese?” he says, once again loud and blunt. 

“I…what?”

“My…my fratelli and I - the Papas that is - would very much like to meet you. A-and share a meal with you. If you are interested?”

Your mouth forms a little “o”.

“There’s more than one Papa?” you ask, cocking your head. 

“Sì, sì, there is also eh, Papa Emeritus I and Papa Emeritus II, known as Primo and Secondo, respectively. Terzo you already know,” he grumbles, and your lips twitch.

“Three Satanic popes and a Cardinal. Wow…life sure comes at you fast, huh? Never expected this from a job offer.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“No,” you say and Copia’s face falls, “I mean - shit - sorry! A no about the bolognese. I don’t eat red meat. But a definite yes for the dinner, I’d love to meet some more people here! You’re very kind to have invited me.”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, but a smile still curls his lips, “We don’t get pretty new faces around here very often. It would be our pleasure.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he said until he sees your lips silently form the damning word and your cheeks light up. Shit, why couldn’t he be normal around you?

“Anyway,” he says, his voice going up a humiliating octave, “would you be available this week? Friday evening, perhaps?”

“It’s a date. I mean–” you look as panicked as he feels at your wording, “--a dinner date. W-with your…with the Papas. And yourself. Sorry, where should I meet you? I’m uh, still familiarizing myself with the abbey. This place is huge.”

“Eh, how about I meet you at your office and I’ll lead the way from there, sì?”

“Sì. I mean, yes. Is there a…should I dress a certain way?”

An image is conjured in his mind of you in a pretty cocktail dress, heels lifting your shapely calves and your decolletage on display—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the vision.

“Uh…dress in whatever is most comfortable. Undoubtedly Secondo will put you to work in the kitchen so–”

“Oh good,” you say, “I mean my culinary talents are uh…definitely lacking but I’d be happy to help and keep busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, and all that. Well…something like that anyway, I’m not sure if there’s a Satanic version. Anyway I am definitely blabbering on so feel free to ignore…literally everything that just came out of my mouth.”

You’re embarrassed. As if he couldn’t listen to you talk and talk and talk for eternity. He’s about to tell you something to that effect before his brain yanks him away. Bit much for only knowing her a month, fool. Instead he gives you a friendly nod, and bows slightly.

“I’ll eh, see you Friday then yes? At 6:00?”

“Sounds perfect. And…thank you. I don’t remember if I said it or not but thank you for making this place feel like home.”

He feels as if his heart is about to burst from his ribcage.

“Signorina,” he murmurs, “it is my honor. Ciao.”

“Ciao, Cardinal,” you say softly as he turns and exits your office. He doesn’t see the way you collapse into your desk chair with a dreamy sigh.

��

You’re going to be late.

As soon as your work day ended you hustled up to your apartment and began getting ready but it’s now 5:41 and you still have no idea what the fuck you’re going to wear. Half your wardrobe lies scattered on your bedroom floor (you know it’s going to make you insane when you return later that night but fuck you can’t remember what clothes you even own) as you stand in the center of the room in your underwear.

“Okay. Okay you’re going to meet three Satanic popes,” the sentence has a delirious laugh bubbling out of your throat. “Three Satanic popes and one…sweet…handsome…Cardinal. What is the correct choice.”

You eye a snug, knee length burgundy velvet cocktail dress to your left. You’ve been saving this one for a while - for a real special occasion. You would undoubtedly impress but…nah. Too much. To your right is a pair of mom jeans - you pick them up and give them a tentative sniff - acceptably clean. You toss the jeans onto your bed behind you. Okay now for a top. How about…ah! You spy a soft, dark green sweater in a pile and snatch it up. Cozy, comfortable, and practical. Perfect. As for shoes…your well-loved black Chelsea boots should do the trick. You look down at your watch.

5:48

Shit! Almost tripping more than once you jump into your jeans and pull the sweater over your head, tucking it halfway into your waistband. You don’t have the time or the patience to put any makeup on beyond a few swipes of mascara and a dark red lipstick and when you make it out the door with your phone and keys, it’s five to six. You briskly power walk the entire trip to your office and by the time you’re standing outside the door, you’re clutching your side and heaving for breath. You pray to whoever is listening that the Cardinal is a little late so you have a chance to compose yourself but before you can even form the thought–

“Signorina?”

You spin on the spot, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Cardinal!” you rasp. “Uh…hi.”

“You look lovely,” he says with an anxious little smile that gives you butterflies, “you’re glowing, signorina.”

“Thanks, it’s the sweat.”

You ought to be taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.

To your immense relief, he doesn’t look disgusted but instead seems to relax as if your odd faux-pas cuts the tension. Chortling, he gestures for you to follow him with a gloved hand.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask, as the two of you proceed down the hall.

“You’ll have to ask Secondo that, I have no idea what the maestro has planned for us this evening.”

“Sounds ominous,” you smile.

“Eh, sì. He is.”

Oh God.

“Your week has gone well?” Copia asks, adeptly changing the subject.

“Yes, just you know. Trying to make sense of everything von Schreck left me with. Can’t help but feel his presence looming over me whenever I change something he did. Did you know him well?”

“Not well, no. He was a quiet man, kept to himself. His eh, mind started to go, in the end. Became paranoid.”

“Ah. Explains his cataloging system then. If you can call it that.”

You realize you’re now in a wing of the abbey you’ve never seen before - a long hallway with a dark red rug running the length of it and arched doors. Copia stops at one that is open and gestures inside with a nervous smile.

It’s a kitchen. A very large, very well equipped kitchen with a massive island and high ceilings. There are three men standing inside it - you recognize one of them and the other two are staring in your direction. The tallest (and from what you can tell, the oldest) has a soft smile on his face. The other is also tall but broad where the older figure was slim, the overhead light glinting off his bald head. Terzo hops down off the counter, swirling a glass of wine and grinning. You’re suddenly aware of four pairs of the same mismatched eyes boring into you.

“Uh. Hi.”

The three Papas are on you like flies on honey in a snap, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen while Copia removes his black biretta and wrings his gloved hands. With a shaky voice he introduces you to the two you are unfamiliar with and to Terzo he simply gives a hard stare.

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” you murmur, smiling around the room, “Wow, three Satanic popes. I haven’t even met one uh…regular pope. Not to say you aren’t ‘regular’ or ‘normal’, of course. The Satanic versions are so much more interesting.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Do you drink?” the bald, mustachioed one - Secondo - asks.

“Please,” you sigh in relief. He gestures you over to the counter.

“What do you know about Italian wines, piccolina?”

Piccolina? You remind yourself to look that up whenever you manage to take a bathroom break.

“Uh, not much. That is to say…nothing.”

He smirks. You know immediately this man is a heartbreaker.

“I will teach you. This riserva is from the Ministry’s vineyards in Piedmont. Made from Nebbiolo grapes.” He pours you a generous glass which you swirl delicately in your hand before leaning in to sniff.

“Oh! I’m definitely getting…red fruits, perhaps cherries? Something mineral, like the way a damp cave smells. Hold on–”

You take a sip as Secondo watches you carefully.

“Wow that’s gorgeous,” you gush, “I didn’t smell the rose element but I definitely taste it. You said the Ministry made this?”

“Sì,” he nods, as he pours more into your glass, “I’m pleased you like it, you have excellent taste.”

“Oh, I really don’t,” you smile, “you’d cringe if I told you some of the swill I find acceptable. Particularly what I drank in college.”

He laughs loudly.

“What kind of self-respecting American college student drinks wine?”

“One from California, that’s what,” you smirk.

“Secondo stop hogging our guest,” Terzo calls from the other side of the room. “I want to see her pretty face.”

Secondo ushers you over to the small breakfast table where Copia sits with the other two Papas before leaving to fetch several wine glasses.

“Don’t you look bellissima tonight,” Terzo grins, and you blush as he gives you a very obvious once-over. That smile disappears though when he jerks violently, slamming his knee up under the table.

“Stronzino, that hurt,” he hisses at Copia, who has carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression. 

Huh. Wonder what that was all about.

You’re distracted by Primo softly saying your name and you turn to the older man with a smile.

“Are you enjoying life at the abbey so far?”

Ah. Well about that. You want to lie - to tell him everything has been smooth sailing but something about the way he looks at you instantly makes you want to be more candid.

“It’s um. It’s been…a lot,” you say, looking down into your wine glass, “The Cardinal is really the only one who speaks to me outside of Sister Imperator. I-I haven’t got out of my apartment much except to go to work. I’m a little self-conscious about exploring, to be honest.”

Primo gives you a gentle smile.

“Do you know where the greenhouses are, fiore mio?”

Fiore mio. Another one for the list.

“I think I know where the gardens are but I’m not sure if they’re nearby–”

“They are.” he says, “Sister Imperator…doesn’t have much use for an old relic like me. I spend my time tending to all that grows here. With some assistance from my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” you ask, cocking your head.

He smiles.

“Ah, you haven’t met any yet, have you? Well I won’t spoil the surprise. I’m sure the Cardinal would love to tell you about them some time. Anyway, all this to say…please come visit me when you have the opportunity, sì? Ah, that reminds me,” he gets up and walks through an adjacent doorway to what you assume is the dining room. When he returns, he’s bearing a bouquet of vibrant pink dahlias in a glass vase.

“Oh!” you say, setting down your wine glass as Primo places the flowers on the table in front of you.

“For you, cara. To welcome you.”

You’re squeezing the meat of your thigh as hard as you can under the table to keep from crying but the tears well up in your eyes all the same.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he reaches out to take your hand into his long, wizened one.

“Cazzo, are you making her cry, you old fuck?” Terzo grouses.

“Terzo!” Copia says with a sharpness you’ve never heard from him before. You’re not sure if it’s the wine but you’re definitely picking up on some tense vibes between the two of them.

“Uh, need help with dinner, Secondo?” you ask, trying to cut the awkwardness.

“Most of it is already finished but you are welcome to assist with the antipasti. Forgive the lack of aperitivo but someone forgot to pick up olives today.”

Secondo glares across the room at Copia, who turns beet red.

“That’s okay, I don’t like olives anyway,” you say cheerily. Primo groans.

“Ugh! Philistine!” Secondo snaps, making a sharp gesture, “Get over here and atone for your sins before I kick you out of my kitchen, piccolina.”

Now your face is red.

“Yes, Papa,” you murmur obediently as you rise from the table, missing the way the four men look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Va bene,” Secondo says gruffly as you approach the island, leaning over to pour more wine in your glass, “Do you know how to toast bread?”

You give him a look.

“I think I can handle toast,” you scoff, setting down your glass. “Are we making bruschetta?” 

He favors you with a nod and a half-smile. A point in your favor.

“Here is the olive oil,” he says, gesturing to his left, “here is the balsamic. I have already diced the tomatoes and here,” he turns and opens the large refrigerator, coming back with a healthy amount of burrata, “is the cheese. Think you got it?”

“I…think so? Wait, do you have a grill for me to use or…”

He hands you a square metal pan with holes perforated in it.

“You’ve used a brustolina before?”

No, you have not used a brustolina before.

“How hard can it be? Don’t worry about me, please go sit down.”

He gives you one last sideway glance before snagging his wine glass off the table and joining his brothers. 

Ten minutes later, Terzo is standing on the breakfast table waving a rag in front of the aggressively beeping smoke detector as Copia looks as mortified as you feel.

“It’s alright, fiore mio,” Primo soothes as you sniffle, staring at the charred remains of what used to be several slices of sourdough bread.

“It’s toast. I cannot believe I actually fucked up toast.”

Copia scurries to your side and Primo steps away to make room. When your head thunks heavy against his shoulder he wraps an arm around you, making soothing noises. 

You don’t see Terzo thrusting violently into the air with a wide grin on his face, still standing on the table but you do see Secondo yank him down when he lets out an undignified squawk. The noise has you choking out a laugh, and you turn to Copia to see him staring down at you with a painfully soft expression.

“It’s nothing, piccolina,” Secondo says, unhanding his brother, “We didn’t need bruschetta anyway. Prometto. The real star is coming soon. Please–” he picks up your wine glass and gives you yet another generous pour, “--go take a seat. Enjoy the company of the Cardinal, and Primo, and my other idiot brother.”

You nod, accepting your glass.

“Sorry,” you murmur, and you feel Copia’s hand rub warm circles on the small of your back. You’d be willing to burn all the toast in the abbey if this is what you got out of it.

“It’s nothing, signorina, truly,” he says quietly in your ear, leading you back over to the table. Secondo efficiently dumps the cremated bread into the garbage and puts an apron over his head which reads “Osculari Coquum.” 

By the time Secondo tells the four of you to take your seats in the dining room you are…pleasantly tipsy and incredibly hungry. The smells coming from the kitchen are so decadent, you can feel yourself salivating. 

“Here we are,” Secondo says, entering the room with a loaded plate, which he places in front of you, “Pollo alla cacciatora con riso.”

You have to sit on your hands to keep from rudely digging in before the others have been delivered their meals but as soon as Secondo sits down, you’re ready to strike. Before you can, Primo speaks up.

“I would like to toast our lovely new friend. To your health and happiness. May you find a home here amongst us. Benvenuta nostra sorella. Ave Sathanas.”

Sorella. The word sounds familiar, as if you’ve heard it in the abbey halls before. It makes a warmth bloom in your chest that you’re certain cannot be attributed solely to the wine.

“Grazie mille,” you murmur with a smile. “Thank you all for having me this evening, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Copia’s hand, resting next to yours on the table, twitches and ever-so-slightly his gloved pinkie finger brushes against yours. You look at him out of the corner of your eye but he’s staring diligently down at his plate, mustache twitching as he fights to smile. The sight makes your heart thud in your chest. It’s as if the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to everyone else despite the fact that neither of you openly acknowledge the other. It’s a breathtaking feeling and you wish you could put your finger on what is so special about this peculiar man.

“Bella, if you don’t eat that I’m going to eat it for you.”

Terzo is staring at you from across the table, mouth full of chicken cacciatore. The whole room, in fact, is staring at you.

“Shit! Right! Sorry I was…I don’t know where I was. Hmm.”

The four men once again exchange a look as you politely dig into your chicken and rice. It’s divine, as you knew it would be. The conversation flows wonderfully, the Papas all eagerly explaining the Ghost project to you.

“So you are all part of the same band?”

“We each had our terms,” Primo explains, “I was the first, Secondo was second, and now Terzo is the third.”

Your brow furrows as you mouth their names and something clicks.

“I’m sorry, you’re all brothers and you’re named first, second, and third? Who does that to their kids?”

Copia snorts into his glass at your candidness.

“Our idiot father, that’s who,” Primo says, and you’re shocked at his venomous tone, “You’ve met Papa Nihil, have you not?”

Oh. You’ve met Papa Nihil alright.

“Ah…yes. Yes, we’ve met. I don’t think he cares much for me.”

Terzo laughs.

“We all have that in common, bella mia! Consider it a badge of honor.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

“So,” Secondo begins, “you must listen to each of our albums and tell us which one you like best, sì?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified to properly judge that sort of thing–”

“We insist,” Terzo says imperiously, “I want nothing less than an album ranking and your overall top five songs. Cardinal, see to it that she gets educated.”

“I don’t see how this is my area of expertise,” Copia says sullenly, stabbing at what remains of his chicken. “It’s not my band.”

Hmm. Another frisson of tension.

Interesting.

“If everyone is done with their meal, shall we move back into the kitchen for dessert? Piccolina, how do you feel about gelato?”

Your cheeks redden at the moan that escapes your mouth. Copia coughs sharply at your side, having turned red himself.

“What’s your favorite flavor, bella mia?” Terzo asks, rising from the table as you do.

“Stracciatella, definitely, but I will never say no to chocolate.”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart! Copia do you hear this? She likes stracciatella.”

The Cardinal remains seated, nodding distractedly. As you exit the room you see Primo move closer to him and put a hand on his back, leaning in to speak quietly.

—

“Oh topolino…she’s just as lovely as you said. Kind, smart, beautiful. Burns bruschetta but eh, no one is perfect.” Primo smiles as Copia looks up at him in earnest.

“Papa…I really like her.”

It’s the first time he’s voiced his feelings out loud and he can feel the flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest.

“I know, ragazzo mio. And you know what? I think she really likes you too.”

Copia’s heart skips a beat.

“Really? You think so? I-I want to do something nice for her, something she deserves but I’m not sure–”

“Spend time with her,” Primo says, smiling, “She is very lonely. Continue to be the friend you have been thus far - that’s what she deserves.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Copia murmurs, “Surely she’ll tire of me or–”

“Surely nothing of the sort,” Primo says firmly. “If she cares for you as I suspect she does, she will welcome you into her heart. All parts of you, not just the best ones. You’ll see, topolino. Prometto.”

“Grazie,” Copia whispers as Primo places a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey you two what flavor–oh, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something.”

You move to exit the room but Copia stands abruptly.

“No, please. Stay.”

You smile. If only he knew now how you’d take that request to heart.

[spnbabe67]

Darling, You Look Divine

Kinktober Day 21: Body Worship (D.W.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2002

Warnings: Smut, Angst, John Winchester (Flashback), Fluff

Summary: When Tori starts to get insecure, Dean is more than happy to show his girl why she's beautiful

Authors Note: Title inspired by the song Eyes Don't Lie by Isabel LaRosa

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo /Square Filled: Multiple Orgasms

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Dean knew something was off with Tori. She’d gone to take a shower after dinner while Dean was finishing up doing the dishes. When he came back to their room he found her standing in front of the mirror that he and Sam had hung up. Tori had complained about the fact that every time she wanted to see how an outfit looked, she had to go to the bathroom for the floor length mirrors in there, rather than the small one on the medicine cabinet in the room. She was standing there, gorgeous body on display, her hair still damp from her shower. Dean walked up behind her, placing his hands onto her hips as her brown eyes met his in their reflection. 

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head a yours?” Dean mumbled as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to her shoulder.

He felt her shrug, dipping her head before looking back up, catching his gaze in the mirror where he could see the glistening of tears starting to form. 

“Talk to me, Sweetheart.” Dean wrapped his arms around her middle, but hesitated as he felt her stiffen under his touch. “What’s goin’ on, Baby?”

“It’s nothing, I just,” Tori started, taking a deep breath as she placed a hand over Dean’s arms. She laughed a little, tilting her head to rest against his. “God, I feel like I’m back in high school, picking myself apart in front of a mirror.”

Dean had an inkling that’s what was bothering her. Lord knows he’s spent enough time in his years placed in front of a mirror. After coming back from Hell, he kept checking his body for all the scars he’d earned after years of hunting. But everytime Alistair and his demons broke him down to pieces, they put him back together better than he had been, including getting rid of the scars and marks from before he was sent down below. That didn’t even take into account how many times before he’d met Tori that he’d stared himself down, loathing every feature that he shared with John, loathing the hardness of his features, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes had lost the spark in them. 

He vividly remembered being plunked down in a gas station bathroom, all dingy and covered in graffiti, stinking of piss and body odor. He couldn't have been older than 12 when John had decided that his hair had grown too long. He remembered pleading with him to let him keep his hair the way it was. Remembered the sternness of his fathers voice as he grabbed the clippers and a pair of medic shears from his bag. He could still feel the tears on his cheeks as John had taken the shears to his hair, then the clippers. When he was done, Dean glanced in the mirror, and he saw his father staring back at him, only John had already left the bathroom.

“Does my girl need a reminder of how pretty she is?” Dean said softly, smoothing his hands across her belly to her hips. 

“Dean-”

“Nuh uh.” Dean cut her off, squeezing her hips. “I want you to watch yourself in the mirror, alright?”

Dean waited for Tori to nod, catching her slightly confused look in the reflection. He kissed her shoulder as he let his hands brush across her body until they landed on her belly. 

“Let’s start here, shall we?” Dean traced small shapes across her skin, circling the tip of his index finger around her belly button. He knew this was the main source of her insecurity, she’d said so before, telling him how she’d gained weight living in one spot. She was the furthest thing from fat, not that he would mind either way. Bodies change, but no matter how she looked, she’d still be his Tori. 

“This is normal. This lets me know you are well fed. It’s my job to spoil you and make sure you are taken care of. This tells me I’m doing my job right. Besides, you know how much I love to lay my head here. Speaking of which.”

He slid his hands higher, cupping her breasts. Dean heard Tori’s breath catch, saw the flush of her cheeks. “Do you know how much these drive me crazy? How much you drive me crazy? Makin’ me go crazy when you wear those tight tank tops.” Dean rolled her nipples between his fingers as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Don’t you think for one second I don’t know you’re teasin’ me when you wear them.”

Her laugh was the sweetest music to his ears, so breathy as she arched her back into his hands. He smiled into her shoulder, eyes catching hers in the mirror. Dean slid his hands back down her sides, feeling her shiver under his ministrations as one ended up on her thigh.

“And these?” Dean slid a hand along the inside of her thigh. “Don’t even get me started on these. I love the way these look in your jeans, and in those tiny shorts you know make me lose my mind. How many times these legs of yours have saved my ass, carrying me back home. So strong but so damn soft, I can’t get enough. Can’t get enough of the way they wrap around my head when I’m between ‘em”

Dean wasn’t sure Tori’s face could get any redder, her blush traveling down her neck, her breath growing shallower as he slid his hand higher and higher until he cupped her soaked core. 

“And I know you know how much I love this. Love to taste you, love how well you wrap around me. So responsive for me.” Dean pressed an open mouthed kiss to the side of Tori’s neck as he slid a finger down her center. 

She was already soaked as he ran his middle finger along her, finding her clit. His other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her back pressed against his chest. “Keep those eyes open for me, Sweetheart.” Dean guided. 

Tori whimpered as he toyed with her clit, finding that perfect rhythm. Dean knew just how to make her fall apart. He’d mapped her body out in his head, knew every curve, every mark, every scar like it was his own. Most of all, he knew just how to have her moaning his name. His thumb took over as he slid his middle finger into her. She was so wet his finger slid in with little resistance, her inner walls fluttering around the digit. Dean watched on as Tori’s eyes were locked onto where his hand had cupped her core, where his fingers expertly moved in and out of her. 

Dean damn near purred as Tori reached up, carding her fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He could feel her clench around his fingers as he added his ring finger, curling them upwards towards her belly. He was glad he had an arm around her waist as Tori’s legs started to shake, her hips rolling against his hand. 

“C’mon Baby. You got it. Let go for me.” Dean whispered to her. “Look how pretty you are when you cum for me.”

He cursed to himself as she clamped down on his fingers, moaning his name as she came, never taking her eyes off herself. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, panting as she came down from her high. Tori didn’t resist as Dean slid a hand under her legs, picking her up bridal style. He laid her down on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before crawling up the bed to nestle himself between her legs. Dean placed a kiss to the inside of her knee, trailing hot kisses along the softness of her inner thigh all the way back to the apex between them. 

“You’re the whole damn package, Sweetheart. So beautiful, I can’t ever take my eyes offa you. Not that I’d ever want to.” Dean nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. 

His first taste of her was heaven. Instantly her hands found their way into his hair, tugging the strands as he laved his tongue up her center. Dean quickly found her puffy clit, pulling it between his lips, gently grazing his teeth against the bundle of nerves in a way that had her thighs squeezing his head. His hand snaked around Tori’s thigh and across her hips, holding them down to the bed, keeping her from wiggling too much. Her ragged moans met his ears, even through the tight grip her thighs had around his head as his tongue worked in and out of her, his nose nudging her clit

Quickly she arrived back at that high, keening as she came on Dean’s face. Dean happily worked her through her high, tongue flicking against her clit, dipping into her molten hot core until she was practically pushing his head away from between her legs. 

Dean pulled away, licking his lips as he pushed his sweats from his legs, his cock painfully hard from the moment he’d slipped his hand between her legs. He kissed his way up her body, starting at her pubic bone, letting his tongue drag every so often as he worked from her belly to between her breasts to the hollow of her throat until he finally claimed her mouth. Tori clung to him as Dean gently pushed himself into her. He moaned lowly at the feel of her velvet walls wrapped around him. There was no resistance as he slid in and in and in. 

“Feel so good, Sweetheart.” Dean praised, smoothing a hand up her side. “Takin’ me so well.”

He started to move once she had time to adjust to him, going slow at first as he kissed down her neck, hand coming up to squeeze her thigh as he placed it on his waist. Tori felt so good beneath him, so soft and pliant, juxtaposed to the hard edges of him. She was so damn pretty. Dean felt his heart swell with affection, in pride that he could say that this gorgeous woman was all his. 

“My pretty girl.” He mumbled against her mouth as he rolled his hips into hers, going at that languid pace that he knew had her barreling towards that edge once again. “Feel so good, my pretty girl.”

Dean could feel that heat low in his hips just as Tori started to sink her nails into his arm, whispering his name to the non-existent space between them. 

“I know, Baby, I know. Me too. Let go for me.”

Dean tried his best to keep the same pace, to keep his hips from bucking wildly into her heat as her walls fluttered around him, legs shaking. Tori’s third orgasm had her cumming hard, body going tense beneath him. She clamped down hard, triggering his own release. Dean claimed her mouth, moaning into the kiss as they shared their high.

Dean eased himself down beside her on the bed, pulling her to lay atop him as their breathing slowed. He caressed the side of her face, pushing inky strands of hair behind her ear. Tori smiled sleepily at him, both of them thoroughly fucked out. Dean traced up and down her spine, letting his fingers brush along her soft olive skin. 

“Thank you.” Tori pressed a kiss to his chest as she reached up, intertwining their hands. 

“No, thank you.” Dean replied. “I’ll take any chance I can get to show my pretty girl just how divine she is.”

Dean chuckled as Tori blushed hard again, hiding her face in his chest. She giggled as she looked back up at him. “What’d I do to deserve you, huh?” 

“I should be asking you that question.” Dean ran a hand through her hair again, the touch soothing for the both of them. “With you, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

[yanderelucy2]

When You Are Away - Tears of Themis

When you are away... they start to act differently, let's see how they change! Tears of Themis MLs when you're off away for 3 months, with no way to contact them due to "reasons."

"When you are away, I begin to lose myself. I need you, it's dependence... or is this what you call... addiction?"

F!reader

A/N: These may not be canonically accurate to the character's personalities. You may also find that sentences are formed or written strangely, I do apologize that I am not the best writer!

PART 1 - Away, PART 2 - Together Again

Artem Wing

1 WEEK - After just one week the changes in him are noticeable, he's like a walking zombie as he consumes himself in his workload. In order to not worry too much, or feel the dreadful feeling of loneliness he occupies his mind with work. Not until Celestine reminds him "You mustn't overwork yourself as a form of distraction, if she comes back and you're ill she won't be satisfied."

1 MONTH - At this point he's recovered from overworking himself. Instead, he simply accepts the feeling of a cold bed in the morning, and he gets ready with a frown on his face. At work, he's getting more stern, and the workers and interns begin to get fearful something is wrong. He doesn't notice a difference in himself, only in his surroundings as he sees others distance themself from him.

3 MONTH - He's getting back to normal slowly as he knows you'll return any day, while he heals he finally notices just how he'd been acting. Cold, stern, strict. In retrospect he regrets it, he buys the law firm all kinds of desserts as an apology, but he can't figure out just why the sudden change in his personality. He tells himself though... "I need her... I couldn't survive in this world without her."

Marius Von Hagen

1 WEEK - A change at work isn't too noticeable until a problem arises within the company... once again he's at the center of it. His authority is being questioned. He's more serious than normal, he doesn't necessarily need to hold back with you gone. It's noticeable in his way of approaching the situation in trying to solve it.

1 MONTH - The problem was solved swiftly, but the public's response to how he reacted differently than normal still lingers. People still question him, and paparazzi question him, as to what's happened for the sudden change to happen. The less he replies the more it crowds the internet until he gives his public reply. "There is no reason as to why I solved the situation how I did. So I hope you will all end the questioning."

3 MONTH - It was revealed after someone who had been watching Marius spoke up after a while saying "His lover he always showers with affection, hasn't appeared at his side for 3 months now." The public love to assume, and the assumptions angered Marius... because how dare they say "They must've broken up... poor Marius." Since he knew you would return soon, he quickly admitted to an interview. "My fiancee is away on a work visit. Our love is everlasting, so do not go making assumptions that I would ever leave her side." His defensive manner, instead of deterring the public... won their hearts.

Luke Pearce

1 WEEK - No change is noticeable within the first week, at least to the exterior. Peanut though notices, and won't leave him alone. As if comforting his lonesomeness. "Peanut.. didn't I send you off on a mission? What are you still doing here." Luke tilted his head whilst furrowing his eyebrows. Peanut simply flies to his shoulder and sits.

1 MONTH - At this point in time it's becoming more noticeable as he's seen acting more restlessly, and recklessly as well. One of Luke's superiors ends up asking him... "Luke, how about a break. You don't seem yourself. You haven't been taking the right amount of precautions. Pull yourself together, or I'll shape you up myself." This snaps Luke's brain, he doesn't see a difference in himself. Why would he need a break? No one noticed, but he was using work as a coping mechanism, as a withdrawal drug.

3 MONTH - He's getting so excited to see you his mind goes almost insane. After the break, he was close to being back to normal, but every morning seeing no message, or a cold bed... his heart couldn't hold his sorrow long enough. He needed to see you, it physically pained him to not see you. "I need you by my side, please return to me quicker. Or I might just steal you... I can't be without you any longer."

Vyn Richter

1 WEEK - The change is almost immediately noticeable in his lectures, as his students question him. "Professor Ritcher! Are you okay? You're teaching has been more... well I don't know what's different, but it's different!" He feels bad for worrying his students, so he simply comforts them saying everything is okay, excusing himself with an "experiment" and "research purposes."

1 MONTH - He begins to notice the differences, so he takes it upon himself to take a break from work, but it doesn't help him in any way. All it makes him realize is just how much he needs you by his side, he's afraid he can't remember your touch, your voice, your soft breath between a kiss, your scent, he's afraid that with 2 more months remaining he'll forget.

3 MONTH - He's gone back to work, more out of obligation. He knows you'll return soon, so he hurries up his work in case you'll return that day, but every day you're not he finds himself with a gloss over his eyes. He misses you every day. "Why are you not by my side... is it selfish to need you so badly? Why haven't you returned to my side, I need you here with me. Please I must hold you in my arms, I must feel your soft skin on my tragedy-calloused hands. Being without you for so long... I think my heart is beginning to stop."

PART 1 - Away, PART 2 - Together Again

[maxsimagination]

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗜 - 𝗹.𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗽

summary: coming out to someone is always diffcicult, but lauren makes it easier.

• part 1 • part 2

-> i do not condone homophobia in any way, shape or form, this is just an imagine and is not reality.

𖦹 masterlist

"𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗠𝗔, 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗔𝗥𝗘 you?"

it was my weekly call to family that were back in australia.

"honey, i'm good, how are you? how's england?"

i had lived in australia for most of my life before moving across the globe to england to play professional football. i was only 19 when i got picked up by manchester city, the sky blues offering me a 3-year contract that i couldn't turn down. now, four years later, i was still here, still wearing the same sky blue jersey with pride.

"england's good. we've got another game on this week, a home game this time."

my family weren't always super supportive of my choice to be a footballer, but never said anything outright. i still knew of the disapproval, but that didn't stop me from playing.

"that's good, honey. found any guys that you like?"

my ma brushed off the football talk and quickly moved to her favourite topic. she was openly christian, as well as my pa, but she always had something to say.

"no ma, no boys. i've said this."

it was a lost cause from there because my ma was unrelenting in her lecture on how a woman belonged with a man, so on and so forth. i made up an excuse of how i had to go to practice or something just to get out of the call.

i couldn't even count on my fingers the amount of times i've been told that homosexuality is a sin, that's how much she's told me.

——

practice next day was nothing new, gareth had us running the normal drills with some one-touch shooting to finish it off before a break. all the girls were in the shade with the water coolers just chatting when i sidled up. lauren crept up behind me and squirted water on my head to surprise me. i shrieked and turned around to get her back.

we were basically best friends, being attached at the hip all the time and both being starting strikers for man city.

"loz! not cool!"

she cackled at my unimpressed expression and walked back over with a promise of no more water fights. we joined back into the conversation with the others, they were all laughing hysterically at alanna's story of a date she'd gone on with a girl and it hadn't gone to plan. each of the other girls then added in their own wayward date stories.

the little group turned to me and lauren, asking our opinions and stories. lauren was quick to tell her funny moments while i was quiet, thinking.

"what about you, yn? any weird dates?"

the tallest of our group, bunny, broke me out of my thoughts with her question. i looked up, slightly caught off guard, and everyone had turned to look at me. about 5 pairs of eyes bore into me, psyching my brain out and panic rose in my mind.

"i- no. no stories. sorry i've got to go."

the anxiety got the best of me and i turned to run back inside of the changing rooms. in the back of my mind, i knew that i was being irrational and the girls would definitely have questions about my behaviour but that wasn't my priority right now.

all i could focus on was the quickening pace of my breath and the sound of my cleats when they hit the floor. i reached the lockers and sat in my cubby, eyes closed and trying to calm myself down. i was so in my head that i didn't hear the door open or anyone enter the room.

"yn are you okay?" lauren's voice startled me and my eyes popped open.

"i'm fine."

i was apparently too quick to respond to that question when lauren cocked her eyebrow at me.

"ok so maybe i'm not fine."

i mumbled out and lauren moved to sit next to me. she didn't push me to speak, just sat with me until i was comfortable to tell her what was wrong.

"im scared.

everyone was talking about their dating stories, and i thought that i wouldn't be accepted."

most of the team were open about their sexuality and who they went out with, but i was the opposite. being brought up in an environment where the christian way was the only way, i was taught that a woman must be with a man and there was no other option.

"i thought that the girls wouldn't accept me."

"yn we will support you no matter what. i will support you no matter what."

i knew from about the age of seventeen that i was anything but heterosexual. but i struggled to accept that fact in my own mind, which made it extremely hard for me to express that to others. i never talked about the topic, preferring to avoid it altogether.

but right now, lauren sitting next to me waiting for me to really tell her what was going on, i decided fuck it, tell her.

"ithinkilikegirls."

it came out rushed and the words strung together in one sentence that hid the real meaning.

"um, slower please?"

lauren had a smile on her face, but she knew how difficult a topic this was.

"i like girls."

three words that held so much meaning. lauren didn't say anything, she just pulled me into a hug. her hands rubbed up and down my back soothingly. i embraced the hug, tears slowly pricking at my eyes and i let them fall.

"i'm so proud of you."

[4dkellysworld]

Hii hope you're doing well, if you're okay with it, I'd like to ask for some advice?

So, I've been trying to manifest something for a long time. But.. I haven't seen it. At all. It's been a really long time, like months. Normally I just brush it off and remind myself it means nothing, and imagination determines my reality, but after awhile.. it gets demotivating yk. It's been a long while, my self concept is pretty good, but I think it's slowly eroding because I haven't seen my manifestations yet. Thoughts?

Well, I have no idea what you've actually been thinking/doing/being to 'manifest' so you haven't given me much to work with. Also I am not a manifesting blog lol though I am changing my views on this, after all we are all creators of our own realities; we can either create consciously or unconsciously and self-mastery is all about taking responsibility for all our creations after all (this isn't an invite for more manifesting questions though, there's so many resources on this already lol). You might want to look into @aphroditeapprenticee-archive. A quick look at the asks shows me this one might be helpful to you, the others might be too. This reddit post might be helpful too.

Some other possible reasons:

You never accepted it as a reality/certainty and see it only as a fantasy or daydream

You told yourself you've accepted it as reality when you haven't actually. You can't lie to yourself

You're too fixated on checking if it's there or not, which just reaffirms the reality where you need to check [therefore it is not] >> you lack faith in what you have decided on

[An extension of above point] You keep changing your mind on whether you have it or not. Or you are also entertaining and identifying with thoughts that are opposite (Put another way, in LOA terms, "The old self has to die so the new self can live. Bury the old and live only as the new". Keep choosing the same thing)

You have resistance in the form of one or more: attachments, attachments to outcomes or expectations, fears, desires (you can't desire what you already have) etc which prevents you from accepting your "desired reality" as truth

The following excerpts may be helpful.

I've linked a video below which might be helpful to you, it's not geared on methods and talks more on the importance of faith and being conscious of what thoughts/beliefs you entertain. Very spiritually-geared as opposed to being outcome-focused (their titles are rather clickbaity but the content is alright actually).

Navigating this landscape of thought requires a conscious effort to cultivate a garden of positive life affirming beliefs. Imagine your mind as fertile soil and each thought a seed. What kind of garden are you tending, are the seeds of doubt, fear and negativity finding too much purchase or are you diligently planting and nurturing seeds of hope, love and abundance? The mastery of thought is not an overnight achievement but a lifelong journey of choosing moment by moment which seeds to water and which to weed out. This deliberate act of selection empowers individuals to shape their destinies guided by the unwavering belief in the secret power woven into the fabric of their being.

[kinki-cami]

Yknow im split again on whether or not i would want the affini to exist

Because honestly, truely, if i could literally just have basically star trek with pretty much infinite ethical food, slay but also if it was just like me and my like 8 neighbors (making 10 total people) i wouldnt mind, like just nature and chilling

Cause lets be honest, if you were sad in any way shape or form, even if its simply "i want to go take a 5 hour walk in a real forest" the affini would probably just be like "oh petal dont be sad" and inject you with (i can never remember the class names but i know what they do so) what is essential dopamine/serotonin, and youre pretty much removed of any individuality which. Suuucks. Especially for someone like myself who pretty much never had an opportunity to fully express myself.

Now dont get me wrong i LOVE identity death BUT i wouldnt wanna be erased, instead id rather just be trapped into a paradise of my own making in my mind. Like. I can look at whats happening to my body, buuutttt for the most part i just get to experience things i wanted to but never had the opportunity to, hell, {in the ben sharpiro talks about banning luigi from ssbu meme voice} lets say, hyypothetically, luigi grabs you- kidding! No lets say this scenario did happen, if the affini in charge of me pretty much told my replacement if any trauma was effecting that paradise to tell them and theyd deal with it, that would be even better bc i think i do have trauma considering every fictional character I've ever made that i would use another character that represented me to talk to, ""my"" ""friends"" (the fictional characters) always resent ""me"" (the character that represents me) in some way always using an annoyed tone

So yknow if i were to just exist as essentially a repressed thing in the back of my mind but i have my own little world i get to interact with back there while physical me is completely otherwise braindead from the affini, then i wouldnt mind, but yeah as it stands, uhh yeah i dont like 24/7 bdsm relationships, i want there to be a seperation between sexual me and normal me, especially since there already is a massive divide in that form, only really noticeable in private vs public and edged vs finished

And otherwise if i was in the hdg world and didnt have that option, you know the moment i was left alone after being captured by an affini and they didnt say that theyd do that, id be dead on the floor, probably crying as i die bc i wouldnt know a very good way to die, bc presumably humanity would have found a cure to diabetes by then, i mean considering it might happen by 2026 uhh i could also just inject myself with a lethal amount of insulin and go peacefully although probably panicked, otherwise, assuming theres no non oxygen, non carbon dioxide gas on the ship, yeah i would probably die a pretty painful yet pretty fast death, crying the whole way there bc fuck if i have to chose to basically watch myself lose myself, death, or trapped in my own mind but i dont know i am i would take option 3... unless thats unavailable, then i would take option 2

Now would they try to keep me alive? Yeah probably but then again you cant really recover a stab to the heart, neck, and lungs, or a hanging, or insulin with about 20 minutes of wait time so yknow

Idfk why im talking about this im depressed as FUCK right now but I'm also being real about if i was in that situation because... yeahhhhh but yeah uhh this is definitely a combo of saying "hey heres my solution!" And "fuck i have horrible thoughts i dont want in my head right now i dont know how to get them out without fucking doing something l Iike fucking finding sone way to cut myself, drink alcohol, or literally have enough fucking energy to get up, which i dont have that energy right now sooo yeah uhh fucking no ones going to read this haha its WAYYYYY too late so like 95% of people who follow me arent online and like , lets be real who the fuck is going to like a post about "oh if i was given the chance to remove all ambitions i had in life to just live in pleasure or do that but its all fake OR kill myself, i would kill myself" like. Thats fucked up. And also now that i think about it its like that comic about the time traveler who goes to the future and is given a choice to continue on her journey or experience eternal pleasure as you hallucinate the things you love and are constantly injected with dopamine and she never leaves and it shows basically everyone doing the same thing sooo uhhh yeah good luck finding THIS post sherlock, i doubt even BATMAN could find this post

[loren91]

Young Royals and the three act structure, Part one

Seems like there was some potential interest in a full three-act story structure analysis, so I’m taking this opportunity to indulge myself by going full nerd. I’m going to attempt to make the argument that limiting the show to three seasons is actually perfect for Young Royals, by highlighting the pattern the story follows.

A few things to keep in mind before we start.

This analysis is not about the characters deep inner emotional lives. We are not here to pass judgment on their actions. We are simply identifying the beats of the story in a neutral and objective manner, for the purpose of analysing the structure of the story.

As you will notice, the points I have identified are all from Wilhelm’s perspective. That’s because he’s the point-of-view character, the main conflict is shaped by him and his emotional state. He’s the protagonist. Each subplot however, will follow the same pattern and has its own purpose, but I’ll get more into that another time.

I’ll be referring a fair bit to Lindsey Ellis’s video essay on the subject, because I like how she describes the structure pattern in sequences. So I’m gonna borrow some of her language. Also, note that the examples she uses to describe the tree-act structure are all feature films. Since Young Royals is a series, it’s gonna divert slightly from her description. But that’s what is so great about this structure, it’s flexible. It’s not meant to be set rules, but rather guidelines to help keep your story relevant and engaging all the way through. If you find this stuff interesting, I’d highly recommend watching her videos!

The three act structure is absolutely not the only way to tell a story. There’s many different formats that works just as well! It’s really about finding what structure works best to tell your story. The three acts however is the most common format you’ll find in more commercially viable works, such as Disney films for example.

And finally, I’m not a writer, but an animator, and I have studied film theory/structure. I’ll do my best to motivate the plot points I’ve identified, but if you’re a proper story expert and disagree with me, I’m happy to discuss!

Okay, let’s get to it.

A three-act structure is constructed of just that, three acts, and roughly looks like this. Essentially, a beginning, a middle, and an end. Or the set up, the confrontation, and the resolution. These acts may vary in length, act two usually being the longest and act three usually being the shortest. But what truly defines them is the tension of each act, meaning what drives the conflict forward at that point. A story will have a main conflict yes, but that conflict will take on many forms depending on where we are in the story. Lindsey Ellis describes each act as consisting of multiple sequences, and defines each sequence by its individual tension as well. Though all points of tension should always stay related to the main conflict! So the main points we’re looking to identify in the story are the main act tensions and the main sequence tensions. 

Let’s go through season one of Young Royals and talk about each story beat.

Act 1

Act tension - Wille has to attend Hillerska.

Sequence 1

We start with the Set up/Hook. The purpose here is to establish the world and the protagonist along with their internal conflict, such as their flaws and/or desire that makes them feel incomplete - The way Wilhelm’s character is introduced informs us that he is royal, but struggling with his role, because royals have set rules to follow.

“Why can’t I decide how the hell I want to live? I want to live a normal life!”

The thing that sets the story in motion is the point of attack. Something happens that is outside of the protagonist's control/knowledge - That would be the royal court deciding to send Wille to Hillerska without his permission. This gives the protagonist something to react to.

Sequence tension is established - Wille does not want to go to Hillerska. The rest of episode one reinforces Wille’s discomfort at the school.

Next, we get to the inciting incident. An event that disrupts the status quo, and our protagonist has to get involved - The initiation party, particularly when Wille and Simon almost kiss at the end. This leads him to acknowledge his attraction toward Simon and become more proactive in his pursuit of the boy. 

The sequence tension is resolved. Notice how in episode two, Hillerska is no longer the main focus for Wille, but Simon is. The seeds for what will become the central conflict have now been planted. The conflict is usually driven by character motivation. This is where we can consider the protagonist's Want vs Need. The want drives the main tension - Wille wants to be with Simon. But we’ll find want he needs later on in the story.

Sequence 2

The purpose here is to build up the creation of the main tension of the story. The main antagonist can also be established here -  August keeps getting on Wille’s nerves. Especially when he’s trying to hang out with Simon.

That’s our sequence tension - Wille is working to befriend Simon, but August keeps getting in the way.

The end of the sequence sees the first major plot point, the Lock-in. Where our protagonist makes a decision that changes everything. Usually, something they can’t come back from - In Young Royals that would be the first kiss. Wille and Simon’s relationship has fundamentally changed. The main tension is now established.

Act 2

Act tension -  Can Wille be with Simon, despite him being a prince?

Sequence 3

At the start of this sequence, the protagonist has most likely achieved some kind of milestone or learned something - He’s definitely like that.

To keep the story interesting, writers will add so-called pinch points in between the bigger plot points. These usually act as reminders of the antagonist or the pressure our protagonist may feel - Wille feels he needs to break it off with Simon because a prince is not supposed to be gay. As we established in the set up, royals have rules. 

Sequence tension - Can Wille deny his feelings for Simon? Queer pining ensues.

Sequence 4

The purpose of this sequence is to build up towards the midpoint. We see the protagonist making attempts to achieve their goal - The want never changed, Wille still wants to be with Simon, despite the pressure. Wille invites him to spend the weekend with him.

Sequence tension - Wille is trying to prioritise his new relationship with Simon, but August is still being annoying.

Then the midpoint hits. A major disruption, either from a character action or a force of nature. Can be positive or negative, just something that changes the aim of the quest without resolving the main tension - This time it’s literally halfway through the season. End of episode three, Erik dies and Wille becomes the crown prince. Everything has changed.

Sequence 5

Everybody has to adjust to the new world order after the midpoint disruption. We’ve reached another pinch point - Again we are reminded that royals have rules, and Wille makes another attempt to follow those rules. By embracing his new role, he breaks up with Simon once again, then sort of pursues Felice and joins the society.

Sequence tension - Wille adjusting to his new title while mourning his brother.

It’s common for subplots to advance around this time - Like Simon giving August the drugs to sell.

Sequence 6

Another plot point, where our protagonist may stop and reflect. Maybe have a heart-to-heart with another character, and perhaps make a decision - This is where we see the football field scene and the end of episode four. Wille reaches out to Simon for help, reconnecting with him. This leads them to pursue a relationship once again. They are put in a false sense of security. They are finally together, thinking all is good. BUT, we in the audience know that August has the video of them and the writers keep reminding us of him and the threat he poses. Even if Wille and Simon don't know it yet.

Sequence tension - Can this happiness last?

Sequence 7

(Here’s where the story leaves the classic structure for a bit, and adds an extra sequence for some more drama, as filler. In theory, they could have skipped this sequence and gone straight to the video being released. This part is mainly here to give motivation for August’s character, making his actions clearer)

So we are essentially given another pinch point, a reminder of antagonist or pressure -  August tries to break them apart by telling Wille about the drugs, which leads to the music room fight. 

Sequence tension - August is becoming more hostile.

Wille saving Simon from being framed for the drugs is more related to August’s money subplot. And the Lucia hug scene is mainly there for character building purposes. I’ll talk more about that stuff in part two.

The plot has advanced to the culmination of the main tension. The crisis that serves as build-up to act three - August releases the video. At the end of act two, the protagonist faces their biggest challenge yet. They’ve hit their lowest point - The aftermath of the video's release and Wille is totally lost. 

Act 3

Act tension - Can they save their relationship after the video?

Sequence 8

Begins with the protagonist making a big decision that creates the new act tension. The tension in act three will be different, but still related to the main conflict - Wille and Simon talk in the locker room, where Wille says he won’t do the statement. 

Sequence tension -  Can Wille avoid making the statement?

We’ve reached our last major plot point, located at the end of the sequence. Sometimes known as the twist in the third act - And what a twist, Wille does the statement anyway. This narrows down the tension further, to focus on a more character-driven intimate place for the next sequence.

Sequence 9

Sequence tension - Can they be together despite the statement?

Climax, the last big fight - Simon tells Wille off for being selfish and breaks up. Wille also finds out that both August and his mother betrayed him. The protagonist’s need has emerged from this journey and is now clear to us - Wille needs to decide who he wants to be. The want and the need should be different from each other, but still connected. Wille wants Simon, but in order for that to happen, Wille needs to break out of this cycle of self-preservation and stand up for himself against the royal court.

The climax will most likely lead to some kind of character growth - Wille is now pissed because he’s lost everything and realizes how corrupt the royal court is. As Lisa so beautifully put it, “A flame is ignited in him”. Hugging Simon in public is a display of his character growth.

And finally, Resolution. The point where the story is usually wrapped up neatly, but if left ignored, you get a cliffhanger - Which is exactly what happens in this season. Nothing is properly resolved at this point. Resulting in an open ending/cliffhanger.

Oof, that was a lot. How are we all doing? So these are the main beats of the plot. Makes sense? Let me know if you need any further clarification 😅 I was gonna get into how the rest of the show fits this format as well, but that’ll have to be in a separate post. Here’s part two! 

[bloggingboutburgers]

cw: discussions of bullying and aphobia

Hearing aroace peoples' existential crises over their friends discussing crushes, as someone who was socially isolated and severly bullied for their whole childhood and most of their adolescence so had NO friendgroup until adulthood and NO community or inclusion in literally anything (and when it came to sex and romance the other kids explicitly considered my potential involvement in either to be impossible / laughible because of how "weird" they found me (my autistic traits before I even realised I'm autistic)), felt like starving while listening to someone else complain about the food they're actively eating.

Food intolerances and dislike of different foods (as metaphor for being aro/ace) ARE important and difficult to grapple with when you're expected to eat specific foods in specific proportions at different times - but man did it sting until I realised why I felt that way and gave myself a talking to since my trauma doesn't justify belittling the very real struggles of aroace people.

I guess since the choice between 'stay alone or conform' was never really a choice because I was rejected no matter how cis straight or allo I was it taught me to go "fuck it" and accept myself regardless of what other people do or say (which ironically has lead to me becoming dramatically popular all of a sudden at uni, which has been weird to get used to since I have literally no experience with any of this - platonic or otherwise - which did lead to some advantage being taken of me but f*ck it we ball ^^'). And I guess it's just been difficult understanding why anyone would care so much about whether they're "normal" or not? You really have nothing to gain from that, safety is not guaranteed in conformity so best to live aroace and damn all aphobes to hell if they have a problem with that.

It's a mindset I'll never understand and that's only ok now insofar as that lack of understanding no longer results in misplaced anger at people who, for a time, I had once considered spoilt, ungrateful and out of touch. Basically, I'm full of sh*t and to every aroace person reading this you deserve good friends that actually respect you for who you are and do not even TRY to get you to change your mind about sex or romance. Have a lovely day x

Sincerely,

An aggressive emotional support anon

I'm genuinely sorry for all the hardships you went through. I don't mean to equate at all, truthfully from reading you and considering I WAS asked some of those questions as a kid regardless (the "who's your crush" bullshit and whatnot), it definitely sounds like I had it less hard than you did, but... I was bullied in elementary school and middle school, also not necessarily because I was aroace (I don't know why it happened really, I don't know if anyone ever knows, I boil it down to... me being me and there being something fundamentally wrong with me ig), and I definitely also get some of those feelings of "oh boo hoo you call that struggle" boiling in me when people discuss their own past struggles sometimes, so... Yeah, every one person's experience is unique, but I can at the very least very much sympathize.

I think a way it manifests in me is that I now have that compulsive, debilitating fear of being "othered" in any way, shape, or form, so I guess being aroace doesn't help my case. But at the same time... Well, like you brilliantly put it, when you're in a situation like that, no matter what you do, you won't be accepted anyway, and having that knowledge back then is probably also what lead me to figure myself out as aroace so early in life. Because I was treated as this much of an outsider, I ironically had that much room in my own head to form my own identity, far apart from others and the need to conform. Yeah, that identity may include a "piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be supported of part of a group" side that's been forced in, buried deep down and can't be erased, but... It also includes asexual and aromantic, and it's been cemented so hard from so early with such self-affirmation that later down the line, it saved me from a lot of stuff. I never had to force myself into a romantic or sexual relationship because I was undoubtably aroace – and people saw me as an outsider and an eyesore anyway. I spent years of being scared to go to school or out in the street every day, but later down the line, somehow, I feel it saved me from doing so many things I wouldn't have wanted to do.

...Bleh, sorry, didn't mean to turn this into me-me-me crap when you had the courage and sincerity of not only showing your experience, but finding the strength to show more love, understanding and support than a lot of people probably cared to give you for so long, despite all the pain you felt for so long. I guess I just wanna say... This take is definitely inspiring, so thank you on behalf of myself and others I'm sure, but also... I hope that, for yourself, you're also managing to own what you lived through in a way that allowed you to affirm yourself more strongly (it sounds like you are, I hope it IS the case), and most importantly, I hope you're in a much better place in your life now and you'll never have to return to that level of loneliness again.

[munsonsreputation]

I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER FIVE: FASTENING MYSELF TO YOU WITH A STITCH

↢ chapter four | series masterlist | chapter six ↣

🎧 soundtrack

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.5K]

warnings: no use of y/n, cursing, self deprecation (are we surprised???) overall fluff

summary: things get heavy with the farmers market making its quick approach — thoughts gnawing away at you and pressure building in your bones. slowly but surely, you’re back at square one, lost in the labyrinth, thinking that the plane was going down. but what happens when Steve comes along in the midst of the storm and mess?

There was a sugary sweet aroma that clouded your apartment — a mixture of freshly chopped fruit that simmered in lemon juice and the overwhelming heaps of sugar and vanilla you mixed together all day.

Racks of fresh baked cookies cooled on a wire rack on the counters while the next batch baked in the oven. You had gone as far as to clearing out most of your fridge space — pre-filled piping bags littering the shelves along with the rest of the precut ingredients you had prepared throughout the week.

Somehow, no amount of planning and prep seemed to matter because you hadn’t anticipated being responsible for a few hundred batches of sweets for Saturday’s Farmers Market. Perhaps you should’ve posed a few more questions and concerns before agreeing on the spot, but you knew you weren’t going to leave Nancy hanging.

She was always so good to you… welcoming, big-hearted, and most of all supportive. Even if she didn’t ask, you would’ve volunteered yourself the second she brought up that she would be hosting the event.

If there was any way you could help, you wouldn’t even think about hesitating.

However, the ache in your limbs and the tiredness in your eyes were speaking a whole nother tune than your heart and mind. You spent the entire week in and out of the grocery store picking up pounds and pounds of flour and sugar — even the sweet lady at the market had run out of fresh eggs to sell you, having already picked up a few dozen days prior.

There were too many baking dishes and itty bitty teaspoons littering the bottom of your kitchen sink.

Recipes that normally took you an hour to bake had tripled with the increasing measurements.

Grocery store runs became more and more frequent with you forgetting to pick up that one very important and vital ingredient.

The menu you had scribbled down on a random piece of paper had been crossed off and rewritten and crossed off again more times than you could count. At this point it was barely legible, the black ink a jumbled mess of your handwriting that only you could understand.

Safe to say you were a mess… literally and figuratively.

There was a tingling feeling in your bones, an impatient restless prickle that flooded your senses in a way that was voicing to you that you were on the verge of a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen if you didn’t step away.

“Fuck this!”  You hissed to yourself sharply.

You reached for the knob, turning it to shut off the heat completely and pulled the bubbling fruit compote away from the burner. The floorboards creaked under your heavy footsteps taking you away from the kitchen and into the living room where you fell against the couch cushions, finally letting your back rest after being on your feet all day.

“It’s gonna be okay… everything is fine, I’m just being dramatic.” You whispered reassuringly to yourself with fanning hands trying to get yourself to cool down. 

But you and your consciousness knew you weren’t fooling anyone… not even yourself.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling at all — you had been here many times before staring up at the ceiling and trying to ground yourself in any shape or form. But it just so happened that you hadn’t felt like this in awhile, maybe because of how busy life had become with your new friendships and the less time you spent worrying. 

You had done your best to keep it at bay, even when it came to your artist’s block, you never let it overwhelm you like this If anything you accepted it and waited it out, but now that you knew someone was counting on you… it just had to come back and bite you in the ass.

“I can’t do this!” You whined dramatically, standing up and snatching the phone off the coffee table, dialing in the numbers and pressing it tightly to your ear.

With every ring you paced back and forth from end to end of your living room. The cord pulled taut with each step you took before it was slack and taut again.

‘Hey this is the Buckley residence, sorry we can’t come to the phone right now… you should probably leave a message and we’ll try to get back to you but no promises!’

You groaned, pinching your eyes shut as you stood in place waiting for the beep to come but you really wished she would have picked it up and sounded off her lovely voice.

“Hey, Robs, it’s me,” you knew she would be concerned right away when she heard this, your usual bubbly greeting gone and instead replaced with dullness.

“I’m having a really shitty day right now and maybe you can give me a call when you get home? Love you and hope to talk soon.”

It never got this bad, to the point where you felt like you couldn’t move from where you were and even if you wanted to, you had no idea how.

The thought of letting someone you cared about down made your stomach twist and turn. You didn’t have many people in your life, let alone genuine friends. But that all changed when you met Robin and soon after her friends became yours.

Nancy trusted you and was counting on you to be there for her — to show up the way for her the same way she did you. And sweet Will was also counting on you, the boy pitched you the idea and you smiled in his face promising him that it wasn’t only great but that you’d be there to help.

You could already imagine the disappointment in their eyes if you had to tell them you weren’t sure you were the right fit just barely two days before the event. It would totally shatter them, maybe not completely, but enough for them to never ask you for anything ever again because you’d only let them down.

Even when you didn’t mean to, it always happened, and here you were about to repeat it all over again. Losing the people who genuinely cared about you the same way you cared about them just because you couldn’t get out of your own head.

All of your life you had believed that everything good and right just ended up breaking, burning, and ending — it was always your fate. 

DING!

“Oh my god!”

You scrambled off the cushions in a haste, the phone toppling over onto the floor as you ran into the kitchen and threw on the oven mitts as quickly as you could. The smell of burning was only faint, the timer you had set on the microwave beeping two more times before shutting up.

You whipped the oven door opened, a big gush of heat enveloping the air whilst you reached in and grabbed the pan. Frantically searching your kitchen for any free space on the already cluttered counters, you made room on the kitchen table, placing it down on a dish towel to prevent it from developing a heat stain.

Much to your surprise, the cookies were not at all burnt: the colorful sprinkles of funfetti still remained vibrant embedded within the vanilla sugar cookies. You wedged the metal spatula underneath, checking and making sure they were perfectly golden, which in fact they were.

“Fuck my life.” You huffed, throwing off the mitt and raking your hands through your scalp.

The pressure was building, the weight on your chest feeling like the whole town was counting on you when you knew deep down they weren’t. The show would still go on with or without you but it just was principal – being inconsiderate or not.

The phone began to ring, muffled sounds from against your living room carpet as it had fallen over in the midst of the haste. It was probably Robin, concerned about the voicemail you left minutes ago.

“Hey sweet—”

“Steve!”

It was supposed to be a greeting of pleasant surprise not expecting him to be on the other line, despite spending the last week non stop on the phone with each other when you both were free. But all Steve heard was panic and distress, your warm and surprised hello replaced with everything opposite of that, making his mind race.

“Woah, hey, did something happen? Are you okay?”

You couldn't spare him from the truth or not, and it didn’t really matter because he’d end up finding out somehow. You sighed, peeking back into the disaster of your kitchen before looking down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. 

“I… well, kinda, not really, I don’t really know.”

“Do you need me to drive down there? I can come right now.”

There was shuffling in the background, his bed squeaking from getting up from it and the sound of his car keys being swiped off the counters. It had you backtracking as quickly as possible, regretting being so vague and making him worry like this knowing he was so far away.

While the thought of him coming down to see you after a week apart sounded enticing, it would be entirely selfish to let him do so. You weren’t Steve’s responsibility to take care of, no matter how much you felt inside for him and how his presence could put you at ease right about now.

For now, you’d settle for the next best thing: him over the phone. 

“Wait, no, that’s not what I mean, I’m sorry…” You squeezed your eyes shut, sniffling a deep breath in, “I just—just was having a really bad day and then I almost burnt the cookies I had in the oven. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

There was a deep sigh at the end of your sentence, the one where he could picture your shoulders falling defeatedly and that terrible frown he hated to see on your face. He could imagine it would be the same sight as when you sat across from him at the diner and felt so horrible about yourself.

If only you were a block away, he’d be at your doorstep in a heartbeat ready to tackle whatever was going on like it was his only duty in the world. To be quite honest he hated the distance between the both of you, like some sort of curse that only you two had to go through.

Way to go for Dustin and Suzies long distance problems.

There was another squeak, his back hitting his bed again before he spoke. “What’s going on?” 

You shook your head, not wanting to dump all of it on him after the day he probably had. “N-nothing. I’m just being dramatic and getting in my head about the farmers market thing.”

There was a migraine already coming to life from the pulse on your temples just thinking about it again. 

“C’mon tell me what’s bothering you.” He pressed, unwavering in his efforts to help you get it off your chest. 

You took another deep breath, falling back onto the couch cushions and this time ready let all the pent up stress go by finally telling someone the truth. 

“I don’t know if I can do it… I mean, I didn’t anticipate for it to be this stressful, you know. Which is stupid of me, I mean what did I think it was gonna be? A walk in the park? I swear, I’m not lazy or anything, I just didn’t realize—”

He cut in before you could even think about finishing that sentence, scoffing incredulously, “Stop it, you don’t have to tell me you’re not lazy because I know you’re not.” 

His voice was soothing and sure, not a hint of uncertainty behind it that made you think otherwise. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your own negativity that you promised yourself you would stop doing but would always have a habit of. 

“Saying it out loud makes me feel like I am.” You attempted to laugh at yourself to lighten the spirits, but Steve let out a disapproving grunt and you almost see the visual of him shaking his head. 

“You’re such a hard worker, I mean, that’s why Nance picked you. She knew you could do this and I do too.”

Even over the phone he never failed to make your heart melt and cheeks blush. Call yourself cheesy or whatever, but he was the greatest pick me up on days like these. 

Staring up at your ceiling you began getting lost in him despite the lack of visuals. “I kid you not, I think I went back to the grocery store like five whole times. My arms are going to be ripped with how many pounds of flour and sugar I’ve been picking up.” 

He chuckled, trying to picture it in his head. Poor you having to lug bags and bag of flour from the store all the way to your car then back home. 

“You know you could’ve called, I would have come down and helped sooner.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re already doing a lot at work and—”

“Cupcake, I categorize tapes. My job is far from stressful.” His tone went stoic, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

Steve did more than just categorized tapes. He dealt with the horrible and impatient customers, even the rowdy teenagers who kept wandering back to the adult film section. He put up with a whole lot at work — but you were never someone he had to deal with.

A relief of sorts is what you were – someone he’d call or run to with no hesitation because it just felt right. No obligations, no whys or hows,  just because in his bones, you felt like that person for him. 

His almost.

You’re the one he looked forward to calling after a long hard day knowing that you would be able to make him forget all about it. He could lay there in his bed, eyes shut with the phone glued to his ear and you on the other end of it. Maybe it wasn’t the best substitute for sleep, but in his eyes it was the best rest he could ever get if you weren’t here laying beside him like before. 

Still, your apologies never ceased, too concerned for his own wellbeing. “But you’re on your feet all day and you’re really tired and—”

Steve cut you off, stopping your unnecessary yet thoughtful concern for him. 

“And I still would’ve come down even if I was all of those things. You don’t have to worry about bothering me, you know you never do.” He said it sincerely, a happy and eased way about it like there was no other way to explain it. 

“How do you always do that?” You murmured, voice finally settling into a more relaxed mood the longer you spent away from the chaos.  

“Do what?”

You wiggled around, tapping your fingers against the phone, “You know what I need to hear even when I don’t say it outloud.”

Steve had always been great at that and for someone who claimed to never be good with words, he just knew exactly what to say. He’d like to think it was because the kids needed constant advice in their teenage lives and he came to be better at guiding and explaining things to them. 

But you never asked for advice nor did he feel like you ever needed it. Everything that he’d spew to you came from the bottom of his heart, things that he always wanted to tell you without reservation. 

He pretended to think for a second before replying obviously,  “Hmm, maybe it’s because I care about you?” 

“You care about me?” 

His laugh echoed lightly, thinking you were playing around because how could you not know? Your silence answered his question, and he just knew he had to tell you how serious he was. 

“Of course I do!” You could tell he sat back up on his bed, voice a little stronger now as he continued, “I care about you and I can’t stand hearing you talk so badly about yourself when I’m head over—”

A loud ring erupted through the receiver, a second call on the other line completely cutting Steve off as he was about to put it all out on the table. 

“Shit!”  You winced pulling the phone back and rubbing your ear from where it was ringing. 

“What!?” Steve shouted loud enough to hear with the phone still pulled away from you. 

Looking down at the display, the last name ‘BUCKLEY’ illuminated in bright orange. 

“Umm, Robin is calling… I left her a voicemail and she’s probably worried and I—”

Steve let out a breath of relief, sighing out as he settled back on the springs of his bed. “You can put me on hold, it’s okay.”

“O-okay, sorry, just a minute.” You squeaked, switching the line with your brain still processing what he was on the verge of saying. 

“Hey Ro—”

You couldn’t even get the full greeting out before her voice came to you rushed — you could imagine that’s exactly what Steve heard when you picked up his call a few minutes ago. 

“Oh thank god! I thought something bad happened for a second. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Just kinda had a mini breakdown, but I promise that I’m—”

“Do you want me to come down? I can call Steve or Nance and get a ride there.” She offered quickly without hesitation. 

You truly had the best friends in the entire world… how did you manage to get so lucky?

“No! No! I swear I’m okay… it was just some stupid thoughts about the farmers market thing. You know the stress and whatever.” You reassured her, hoping she wasn’t too strung up on it. 

“Are you sure?” She pressed again just for good measure, “I know Steve would drop everything for me and him to come down and help you.” Her voice lifted with a bit of teasing that you caught. 

You smiled self indulgently, happy to know you had people who were willing to come all the way down here to be with you — it showed that they really cared, and even if you didn’t need them to, hearing it outloud warmed your anxious heart. 

“You’re so sweet, Ro…but I swear, I’m okay! Steve actually called me.” 

“He did?” She gasped. 

She wasn’t actually too surprised considering that these days after scoring your number all Steve would talk about was getting home from work to give you a call before you headed to bed. 

The next morning she would be bombarded with him going on and on about the conversation you two had — little things like what you had for dinner, a stray cat you started feeding, entirely mundane yet sappy things that had him hooked because you were the star of those stories. 

Nevertheless she loved hearing about it — a perfect start to her morning, lunch break, and the entire shift of the day before doing a full repeat the next day. 

“Yeah, he’s on the other line right now.” 

A squeal ensued from her end, one that made a smile pop upon your features because her happiness always had its special way of radiating and lifting up everyone around her.

“Oh perfect! Merge the call!”

“Are you sure? I can tell him I’ll call him back later.” You offered, wanting her to know she would always have your full undivided attention. 

“You can merge it! I actually have something important I really want to tell the both of you if it’s okay?” She said making your mind race with a million different things she could be planning to tell you and Steve if it was this important. 

“Of course, give me a sec.” 

You heard her “mhm,” before you switched lines again and this time Steve’s whistling came through the receiver.

“S-sorry, she was checking in.” You cleared your throat, not doing a great job of masking the croak. 

“Was she jumpy?” He joked, knowing she had a habit of doing that all the time. 

“A little,” you snickered, “she wants me to merge the call. Has something important to tell us.”

“Okay, cool, yeah that’s fine. She called out of work today so I didn’t get to talk to her all day.”

Robin calling out of work was a rarity, sure the job was a little boring, but working with her best friend compensated for that. Steve was usually up to date in advance whether she would be calling out or not – so getting to work today and not seeing her was incredibly weird. 

You cleared your throat once more, fingers twirling around the cord as you spoke kindly, not wanting to let what he did for you go unnoticed. But Steve never did things to be thanked for, you knew that for sure, but still, you would cherish him for taking the time out of his day to be there for you. 

“But umm, I really appreciate what you said earlier, y’know… encouraging me and whatnot.” Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of gratitude and warmth. 

“You know all you have to do is ask and I’ll be your biggest supporter.” Steve responded happily, making sure that it stuck with you. 

Your fingers hovered over the merge button, contemplating your choice of words before you decided to let it go at the last second. “And Steve?” 

“Hmm?”

“I-I care about you too…a lot, just so you know.” 

You said with an oath-like-whisper hearing his breath hitch with a thick swallow. Clearly he was a little taken aback by your sudden leap of boldness that was usually hidden under your bashfulness that he found endearing, nonetheless. Before Steve could say anything else, you clicked the merge button, a quick static ringing through the receiver before it cleared up. 

A joyful Robin came through the other side. “Can you guys hear me, alright?” 

Steve coughed, trying to steady his heart that was pumping faster as he hung onto your words for dear life. He tried to think of something else in the meantime, knowing he needed to at least survive this phone call before he got to pace his room for the rest of the night and replay the words in his head. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Yuppers!” 

You obviously did a better job at trying to seem nonchalant.

Robin squealed, the sounds of her getting comfortable on her couch filling the line before she spoke again. 

“I have some really big major news to spill but—”

“But first tell me why you called out of work, dingus? I had to deal with Keith all alone today!” Steve retorted. 

She scoffed loudly, “God, do you ever shut up and listen, Harrington? It’s a part of my story.” 

“Wait, you called out of work because of this big major news?” You asked suspiciously. 

“Yeah…well actually no! I called out of work for a reason that led up to the big major news.” She informed you both. 

“Oh! Well, whenever you’re ready!” You chirped ready for the news. 

“Okay so remember Vickie?” 

Steve clicked his tongue a few times, “Isn’t she still dating that jerk from Purdue?” 

“Not since last month!” 

“What happened between them?” You wondered, not knowing much about Vickie and her history with Robin. 

There was a heavy sigh before a devastating confession. “He cheated on her.”

“Ouch.” You grimaced, biting down on your lip. 

“What an asshole.” Steve muttered. 

“Exactly! But anyway, we ran into each other this morning at the bus stop and we kinda just hit it off and we spent the day together then she kissed me!” 

You gasped and Steve cursed. The both of you were shocked by not only hearing about poor Vicky’s cheating situation, but on top of all that, the fact that she and Robin had swapped spit after how many months of pining. 

“You blew me off for a girl!?”

“Oh shut up Steve, as if you didn’t do it to me before either!” 

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you’d make a comment about how the two still fought like siblings even over the phone, but you didn’t, too intrigued and wanting to know more details. 

“Did she initiate the kiss?”

“Yes!” 

“Like a peck kiss or like a full fledged make out kiss?” You pressed.

“I-I don’t know! Maybe a little bit of both? I was just following her lead, okay? Last time I kissed a person was back in sixth grade when Donny Humberford dared me to… it was unpleasant and quite honestly was my awakening that I never liked boys.” 

You giggled as Steve went for his round of questions, the two of you taking turns like it was some sort of interrogation. 

“Well, c’mon tell us, was this kiss at least pleasant.” 

Robin sighed a sigh that sounded straight out of a rom-com, you could picture her kicking back her legs and looking so enamored by just the memory itself. 

“The most pleasant kiss I think I’ll ever get.” She sing-songed cheerfully.

“What about if Phoebe Cates kissed you?” He challenged.  

“Okay, woah, that’s totally unfair! Vickie and Phoebe are both hot babes!”

You jumped in again, this time with a very important question that needed to be answered. “Did you foot do the pop up thing?” 

Stuttered words came from Steve, who had no idea what you were talking about. “The what? Is that some sort of sex thing?” 

Robin snorted. “Ew no!” 

“Steve!” You shrieked, covering your face. 

“What?! You said foot and thing in the same sentence and that makes me think of some really gross stuff that I don’t even think the rated X section has.”

Robin gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth, “You’re totally right! Wait, do you think Keith stole all the foot fetish tapes?” She speculated seriously. 

“What the hell is wrong with your boss?” Your face twisted up in horror. 

“He’s a creep.”

Steve was next with a considerate yet weird warning, “Please, if you ever come to visit us, do not wear opened toed shoes at the store.”

“Jesus Christ, yeah, I’ll make sure I remember that. Anyways, the foot thing!” 

“Oh yeah, the foot thing!” Robins snapped gleefully. 

“Would someone just explain the goddamn foot thing?” Steve complained. 

“You know! When you kiss someone you really really like and your foot does that little pop up thing because you’re enjoying it because it’s with them.” You tried your best to explain. 

“Guys don’t really do it though… they pop something else, if you know what I mean.” Robin cracked with a laugh before Steve choked on his spit at the vulgary. 

The line reduced to chortles, you and Robin dying at the joke, while Steve couldn’t help but smile, waiting for you both to settle. 

“And you want to call me filthy?”  He pointed out when it finally died down. 

“No but seriously, she kissed me out of nowhere and I didn’t get the chance to really even process it and I’m just realizing that and, holy shit! I kissed Vickie!” 

“She actually kissed you first but okay.” Steve corrected, though Robin didn’t seem to catch it. 

“Vickie and I’s lips were pressed together! I felt her mouth on mine! Oh my god! I kissed Vickie!”

It wasn’t long before the call was filled with her squeals and screams, Robin completely forgetting about you and Steve while she remembered it all in her own world. Her heavy panting filled the line then, taking a breather from the screams and her recollection of every detail. 

“Honey, do you wanna process that alone?” You suggested indulgently, hoping she would take you up on the offer because it really was a special moment you wanted her to process. 

Thankfully she didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I gotta go!”

“Bye-bye now, don’t dream too much about it.” Steve sing-songed before she hung up with a heavy clunk. 

The static rings through for a millisecond as she disconnects, before you and Steve are alone once again. Good-natured and proud laughter comes from both of you, so ecstatic for your friend. 

“That’s adorable! I’m so happy for her!” You gushed with a squeal. 

“I should’ve known something was up! She never calls out of work like that and doesn’t give a reason why.”

“I bet you she’s screaming into her pillow right now.” 

“Or she could be pacing her room with her face in a pillow and screaming.” He added as you both agreed that it would be a very possible ‘Robin-thing-to-do.’

Steve seized the moment with a question of his own. “Have you ever done the foot thing?” 

Laughter came out the second he finished the query, you just couldn’t help the fact that he was asking about that all of a sudden – not that you minded, but you just never imagined Steve Harrington asking about a corny foot pop. 

“Now all I can think about is foot fetish.” You fake gagged. 

“You’re so dirty minded! Okay, okay, has your foot ever done the pop thing…that’s better?”

“Much better,” You crooned, thinking for a moment about all the times in which you’ve been kissed with nothing sticking out, “And, no, I don’t think it’s ever happened to me.” 

“Really?” He sounded surprised, as if it was some sort of shock that you’ve never experienced such a thing. 

“The foot pop is, like, totally memorable, trust me.” 

Steve was half regretful of bringing up such a dumb question, hoping it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to remind you of your ex that he already knew you weren’t too fond of. 

“Well who knows? Maybe one day right?” He put it out there into the universe, crossing his fingers that his optimist came through the way he wanted. 

Your small laugh was all it took for him to know everything was just right. “One day.” 

Perhaps it was the hour and the lack of sleep you had been getting for the past couple of days, but you let out a yawn, apologizing in the middle of it as Steve chuckled and told you not to worry about it.  

“I should probably go… I need to get started on the cupcakes and package the cookies up.” You groaned, reality hitting as you looked around your place that was still a complete disaster, and didn’t magically clean itself up. 

“Why don’t you call it a night huh? I’m sure you worked all day.” 

Steve’s voice filled with the same concern as the beginning of the call, still not understanding why you were putting yourself through so much when you were already doing the best you could.  

“Been up and moving since 7 a.m..” You yawned again, rubbing your eyes. 

Steve shook his head, not that you could see him, but he was sure you must have felt his discontent for overworking yourself through the phone. 

“You did so much work, you deserve a break.” He repeated sternly. 

You rubbed your forehead, knowing he was more than right. “Yeah but then that means I’ll still have more work to do tomorrow and—”

“And I’ll come and pick you up and we can bake the rest of the stuff at my place. I’ll help and it’ll be a nice change of scenery for you.” 

Steve was notorious for doing and saying things without using his head, oftentimes leading to horrible and awkward situations. But when it came to you, more times than not, everything he did and said was without thinking of himself and more for the best interest of you. 

He knew you’d been bending over backwards for this event and the last thing he wanted you to do was go at it all alone. Steve knew you were more than capable of doing it all by yourself, but he didn’t want you to – not when he was there willing and able.

“Don’t you have the morning shift tomorrow?” You suspected, having both his and Robin’s schedule memorized by heart. 

“Well Robin owes me so not anymore.” He retorted cheekily. 

Sure, maybe he should have given Robin a break considering kissing Vicky to be an incredible milestone, but if he could survive a shift alone with Keith so could she. Plus, it was for you, so Robin couldn't be too upset if she wanted to. 

“If you’re going to call out I don’t want to make you do more work.” 

“You’re not making me, I want to.” 

He’d do anything when it came to you without even second guessing it. There was something deep down inside of him hoping that you knew and understood that because he needed you to. 

“You’re too good to me.” Your chest rose and fell, a happy breath that was a glimmer of hope to his ears that you knew. 

He took his own breath, glancing over at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “Get some rest and I’ll be over in the morning.” 

“I could drive there if you want? Save you some gas and let you sleep in a bit more.”

“I know you could, but I want to. So please?”

Why Steve was so generous when it came to you, you’d never really understand considering the mess you were. A part of you liked to think that you were the mess he wanted and there was nothing more you wanted to be than his. 

“Y-yeah, sure, thank you.” You stuttered, gripping the phone tightly 

“Get some sleep okay? You deserve it.” He cooed, a smile leaking through his voice that you could see even over the phone. 

“I will.” You promised to smile at the thought of getting to see him so soon. 

“Night sweetheart.”

“Night Stevie.”

Steve shouldn’t like the idea of waking up at the crack of dawn and proceeding to drive to a town an hour away on the one time he called out of work — but when it’s Roane and he’s coming for you, he loved the journey.

He felt more lively than ever even if he had woken up ten minutes before his alarm and ran out of instant coffee to make before he left. All of the little inconveniences didn't matter when he was taking the roads that led straight to you.

There’s a vast difference between the town he grew up in and yours. Hawkins should feel like home, and at times, it really is — his closest friends are there, but then again his parents always come back eventually. And when they do, it feels less than that — like him playing a game of hide and seek trying to avoid them until they go out of town again.

Sometimes there were moments where he just wished that they both packed up their things and relocated permanently so he could stop banking on the moment where they finally woke up and made an attempt to be an actual family — the one he still yearned for even after all of these years of disappointments.

It’s the harsh truth he’s had to face since he was a young teen realizing that they’d always come home, but never for him. A feeling of cruelty that reminded him that no matter how patient he was, his parents would never notice the way they’ve neglected him through the years.

He kept quiet, stayed hidden in plain sight when they were around knowing they could never make up for it — the damage had been done and his home was never going to be home as long as they were around.

But in hindsight, that’s why he enjoyed visiting Roane these days.

He didn’t have to hide or worry about running into one of his father’s friends from the office or his mother’s girlfriends, trying to uphold a conversation with them that he clearly didn’t want to be in. He knew close to nothing about his parents and their whereabouts and didn’t want to unless it was them coming home early and him needing to leave for the next few days.

In Roane there’s no one he’s hiding from… just someone he’s desperate to get to.

But of course an early morning in town isn’t complete without a pit stop at Taylor’s. He’d be damned if he showed up at your doorstep at this hour without a dozen cronuts and your favorite coffee.

He was welcomed with the chime above the door, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee and baked breads, a type of homeyness that could never be replicated unless it was coming from your kitchen. 

Like second nature he knew what to get, an order of assorted cronuts, your rose latte with an extra pump of vanilla syrup, and his very plain iced mocha with an extra shot of caffeine to get him through, but he doubted he really needed it when you’d be there beside him the whole day.

“It’s going to be $19.89.” The cashier announced, ringing up the total and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket.

Flipping open his wallet, there was a giddy smile that spilled on his face. The yellow notepad paper folded up and placed within the clear pocket of the billfold, your handwriting reading ‘to: stevie <3’

It’s probably the worst way to store his most prized possession, but the damn thing got him through long work days and even longer ones at the arcade when Max and El begged for $5 to spare — he doesn’t mind them asking if every time he opens his wallet, he’s greeted by something that reminds him of you.

He probably looked like a psycho taking too long to grab a $20 bill with him distracted. Finally sliding the cash across the counter, he waited for his change before tucking it back into his wallet and stuffing the receipt into his pocket and stepping off to the side waiting for the drinks to be done.

“Steven!”

The greeting came from the woman walking through the front door, the chime of the bell above her not at all audible with her voice bellowing within the small space. She wore a big big smile, arms held out wide as she approached him.

He cracked a grin, letting her pull him in as he hugged her warmly. “Dorothea.”

She was just as lively at seven in the morning as she is at ten at night at the diner.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while. You two haven’t stopped seeing each other already have you?” She lifted a weary brow, voice laced with a bit of teasing. 

Steve shook his head, shyly smiling at her insinuation of what you two had going on. “I’ve just been working a lot, these days. I’m going to see her right now, just came by to pick up some breakfast for us.” He gestured towards the counter of packaged goodies. 

“Aren’t you such a gentleman? You know if I could clone ya, I would!” She pinched his cheek playfully.

God, she reminded him of his great grandmother he hadn’t seen since he was seven.

“That’s uh…very sweet of you. Thank you.” Steve smiled sincerely, hoping he didn’t look too strained. 

She gripped onto his arm, squeezing as she smiled from ear to ear. “Well tell her I said hello! She hasn’t been to the diner in a while, must be locked up in her apartment painting or something.”

“That and baking.” Steve replied with a proud grin. “She’s in charge of a booth at the Hawkins market tomorrow.”

“No kidding?” She tilted her head, strikingly, always amazed at the amount of things you were able to juggle. 

“You should come, she’ll be happy to see some familiar faces around.” He extended the invite warmly, cursing himself for not having a flyer on hand to give her in case. 

“Order for Steve.”  

He gave her another smile, “Hope we see you there,”

“I’ll try my best, pumpkin! You two enjoy your breakfast, now.”

And he was off, back on track to his destination with the goods secured knowing it would make your morning better even if you were not so much an early bird. It’s little things like this that he knew he could do to make your day a little less stressful especially since he anticipated plenty of baking for the next few hours.

But he hoped with his presence you’d find it in yourself to not put so much pressure on yourself. He was there for a reason, wanted to give you a hand and take some of it off your plate so that you could relax a bit.

Sure, he didn’t really know much about baking, but he was willing to learn for you.

The drive to your place was short, not too far away from the cafe. Your apartment complex was tucked away from the main parts of town, hidden just a few miles away from Taylor’s and the diner.

It was a quiet yet cozy neighborhood, everything about it screamed your name. 

Flowers of all kinds littered the boulevard, bright yellows and pinks peeking out through the tall green grass and dancing in the sun, accompanied with a light breeze of air as he drove by.

Stray kittens and puppies roamed the sidewalk like community pets, nuzzling up against the ankles of children who walked hand in hand with their parents and siblings towards the bus stop for school.

Tall oak trees that had been standing for years lined the sidewalks housing birds and their babies on branches where they also got the best view of the sunrise at their peaks.

Elderly couples mingled with others, dressed in their cozy morning attire and some still in their pajamas hoping to get some exercise in the summer nice weather that would soon be replaced with autumn.

Quite frankly this place held everything and more that Steve wanted for his life. The atmosphere filled with some sort of magic potion that had him wanting to stay forever if it meant that he got to walk these same sidewalks and drive down the same roads with you by his side.

It was stupid and far-fetched idea considering the circumstances he was in, but he’d still like to think that someday this would be the place he called home. Somewhere where he didn’t have to just watch happy people living their lives with the ones they loved, but where he could be doing the same too.

“Here we are.” Steve whistled, turning his wheel into the complex a few blocks away from the main homes.

He was glad you lived on the ground floor, not because it would save him time to take all the items into yours, but because your place greeted him through the windshield every time he pulled up and placed his car into park next to yours.

Your front porch, while not having much space, was still decorated with everything that made you, you.

Fresh herbs planted in a small basin that sat on the railing of the entrance and a trellis of green vines resting against the wall beside your front door. There was a welcome mat placed at the doorstep along with a pair of gardening boots that were too big your size, an attempt to scare off potential burglars who want to mess with a hypothetical giant with a size 10 foot — Steve laughed like a maniac when you told him about that.

He shut the car off, reaching for the coffees and juggling the box in one hand as he shut the door with his hip and approached your front door steps.

Setting down his drink, he brought his fists up to the door knocking firmly. “Sweetheart, it’s me!”

He waited, listening to hear your voice call out for him followed by your footsteps thudding against the wooden floors as you ran towards the door, but all he heard was silence. Not even the sound of music playing through your record player or the morning news on your television.

Just pure silence.

He frowned, knocking again this time a little louder. “You in there? It’s Steve.”

Still no answer. 

He pressed his ear to the door, complete silence, not even a peep of water running from the shower which confirmed his suspicion that you were still very much asleep. Though he wasn’t surprised, you were probably in bed sleeping soundly after all the work you did yesterday. 

Steve set the items down on the porch, looking around the area until his eyes landed on the pot tucked away in the corner  — it was a fake succulent where you planted a spare key. He tried to tell you how unsafe it was to keep a key out there in the open but you claimed no one would try to pluck a key out of a creepily real looking cactus.

Smart girl you were. 

“Gotcha.” He smirked, plucking the key away from the bottom of the pot and approaching the door with it in hand. 

“I’m coming in, cupcake.” Steve called out one last time with a knock. A warning, hopeful that you finally had woken up but to no avail there was still silence.

He sighed, sticking the key into the lock and turning it open and carefully pushing the door in not wanting to startle you. But alas, he didn’t think that it was even possible when you were cramped up on the couch sleeping soundly. 

“Oh, christ.” He said under his breath, quietly stopping in his tracks. 

You had a blanket partially pulled over yourself keeping you warm enough to bear the entire night. Your hair was sprawled out across the cushions, strands resting along your cheeks. You slept like a baby, curled up in an awkward yet comfortable position. 

Steve quickly picked up the coffees and baked goods, shutting the door as quietly as possible as he toed off his shoes and rested the items onto the coffee table.

He looked towards the kitchen, finally aware of the sheer magnitude of work you had been doing. Sure it was a bit of a mess, but he was relieved a bit to know that you got some rest like he suggested. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve whispered softly, bending at the couch where he shook your shoulders gently.

You only stirred, keening as you nuzzled yourself deeper into the cushions, eyes pinching tighter to stay asleep. He felt terrible for having to be the one to wake you up, but it had to be done. 

“Honey, it’s almost seven… you gotta get up.” He spoke a tad louder, brushing back your hair out of your face until you pressed your cheek to his hand, gluing it there so he couldn’t move. 

“Hmmm, no it’s not.” You argued sleepily with your eyes still closed, licking your lips as you remained comfortable. 

You were cute even at this early hour and he would have loved to let you stay in bed but he knew it would throw off your entire game plan and have you rushing more than you already were. 

“C’mon doll,” He shook you again, this time with enough firmness to get your eyes pinching and peaking open. 

He gave you a small smile, mouthing ‘good morning,’ as you stared blankly at him, not a single thought behind your tired eyes other than it had to have been a dream that felt too real. 

“I had to use the key to get in… you fell asleep out here last night.” His voice was faint, not wanting to rudely pour all this information on you so early in the morning.

Clear confusion accompanied the tiredness, just starting to really wake up and fathom that Steve was hovering above you and it wasn’t a trick your brain was playing on you.. 

“W-what?” You yawned, shutting your eyes again and giving them a rub. 

“It’s 7 in the morning, sweet thing. You overslept a little.” His thumb moved up to caress the skin under your eyes, soothing your harsh rubbing. 

You moaned out an objection, shaking your head against his hand, “No, I didn’t.” 

He laughed, shaking his head at your positivity before finally pulling his hand from your cheek to lift his sleeve and hover the watch over your face.

 “Look, honey.”

It took you a second, eyes still clouded with fatigue as you squinted up at the hands of the clock. Slowly you began to process it, the short hand pointing sharply at the 7 and the mere fact that Steve was in fact before your eyes with the purest look of fondness despite the hour. 

“Holy shit!” Your eyes widened, pushing the blankets off yourself in a haste and sitting up. 

“It’s okay—”

Your eyes darted to him, frowning deeply, torn between embarrassment and stupidity for having him wait out there for god knows how long. 

“I swear I set a timer for fifteen minutes,” you huffed, pointing towards the coffee table for the stupid kitchen timer that he proceeded to pick up and shake. 

“I was supposed to take out the trash and pack up the cookies.” You explained, watching as he sat it back down and gave you a reassuring shake of his head, unbothered by the situation. 

“It’s okay, maybe you just didn’t hear it.” He tried, hoping you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt instead of beating yourself up.  

You took a deep breath, offering a tight smile as you patted the space next to you and gathered the blankets over your shoulders. He took a seat, getting comfortable beside you, watching how you closed the space until your knees were knocking against each other. 

“I’m really so sorry… were you waiting long?” You glanced over to him.  

He shook his head, reaching over to brush your hair over your shoulder. “Nope, I just got here. Thought I told you to rest up last night?”

“You did,” You said guilty, watching his hand drop back down to his lap, “Buuut I just wanted to get a few more things done and I was supposed to have a power nap then clean the place up.”

You combed your fingers through the roots of your head, resting your elbows on your knees as you realized the mess was still very much there and Steve had to be here to witness the catastrophe.

Just as quickly as his hand dropped to his lap, it came back out to rest over your knee, fingers rubbing assuringly as he gave you a sequence of squeezes to get you looking at him again. 

 “S’okay, you needed it.” He assured you, his touches never ceasing as his chin poked out towards the coffee table. “I got you some coffee and your favorite.”

Sure enough there was a box of piping hot cronuts filling your apartment with their decadence, and a cup of your favorite morning drink rested right beside his half finished one. 

Steve’s generosity was something you never thought you could get used to, but by now you should’ve known that he always went above and beyond… at least for you. 

“You didn’t have to.” You whispered thankfully, closing your eyes as you tilted your head onto his shoulder.  

He slotted closer to you, keeping his thumbs rubbing your skin in random patterns as you felt him shake his head against yours, simply murmuring, “I wanted to,” in the quiet space. 

For once, in the last few days that you spent in the haze of stress and anxiety, today felt like the calmest morning you had all week. Despite you nearly burning your apartment down and falling asleep in the living room in less than 24 hours, with Steve here, it seemed like he brought some sort of magical potion that had you thinking everything was going to be okay. 

It was difficult for your heart to swell and get tight in the confines of your chest when you realized that peace could be this. The two of you spending mornings like this, even when you were the farthest thing from peace – maybe it was him who could give it to you. 

The two of you sat around for a few minutes in complete silence, just enjoying each other's presence for what it was worth right now. Something about it felt domesticated in the best way possible, knowing the simplest things in life like this were free. 

“I’m gonna go shower really quick.” You announced, slowly pulling away from his side and stretching your arms out.  

He retracted his hand from your skin, being the first to stand up, “I’ll put your coffee in the fridge for now.” Steve headed towards the kitchen with your drink in hand. 

Your feet continued across the floors padding towards your bedroom, bed still freshly made having not slept on it the night before. Sure your back should have been aching from sleeping on the less than suitable couch, but you got the rest you needed and that’s what mattered.

You pulled open your closet, settling for a loose dress to sport instead of jeans knowing they’d probably be covered in flour and sugar by the end of the day. You pulled your towel from the hanger on your door and walked across the hall towards the bathroom.

Catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you looked exhausted — the clear fatigue that had been building up over the last couple of days settled and ended up with the after effects of the burnout showing on your skin. A cold shower was what you needed, icy water cascading your body, doing its very best to wake you up and rid you of the exhaustion. 

You didn’t keep Steve waiting long, out of the shower in less than fifteen minutes and by then you could hear the slight clambering of dishes coming from the kitchen. 

“Have you eaten yet?” You shouted loud enough to hear, combing your fingers through your semi-damp ends.

More clambering came through the door, before you heard a loud dramatically loud scoff, “Without you? Of course not!” 

You grinned in the mirror, rolling your eyes at his quick wit before finally shutting off the lights and heading down the hallway to see what he was up to. 

Once you got him in sight, his hands were drying the dishes in the rack and there was no longer the clutter of the dirty ones in the sink. He stacked the mixing bowls on top of one another before noticing your presence lingering behind him. 

“I took out the trash and did some dishes. Didn’t want to get started without you.” He hung the damp towel over the oven handle before gesturing over to the empty trash can that was once overflowing.

“Steve, you’re a guest.” You chastised, going around the kitchen to pick up the small bits of trash that stuck around.  

“A considerate one at the least.” He shrugged his shoulders, following you around like a lost puppy and offering his hand out to take the remnants of the garbage from you to toss into the bin himself. 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, moving around him to throw it in trash, before he grunted out a snicker. 

“C’mon let’s sit down and eat before we get going.” 

He had already brought some plates out, moving next to the drawers to grab some utensils. For whatever reason, warmth bloomed in your heart, happy to see that Steve was just as comfortable in your home as you were in his. Simplicity in him knowing where things were was a sort of happiness you couldn’t explain. 

You bit your lip, walking over to the fridge to open it before looking over your shoulder. “Did you want me to make some more food?”

He shook his head, opening the box of cronuts and fishing two out for the both of you. “I’m okay, but I could whip up some scrambled eggs for you?”

He looked up from the sweets, seeing you nod your head with a desperate look on your face as you held your stomach. Last night you hadn’t eaten much so you really needed to make up for it by having a hearty meal to set you up for the rest of the day's work. 

“Coming right up.” He drummed his fingers off the dining table, as you switched places. 

The kitchen was soundly, not much with chatter this early in the morning, but with the sizzling from the pan as Steve poured in the eggy mixture and the soft buzz of the toaster oven where you warmed up the  cronuts. It wasn’t like the morning at Steve’s where you waltzed around the kitchen — it was much slower, yet filled with the same amount of domesticity. 

Steve could tell you were still tired, the grogginess seeping slowly out of your bones the more you sipped on your coffee and tapped your toes against the tiles watching the oven closely. You weren’t trying to hide it from him on purpose, but he noticed that with every small yawn you let out, you turned away from him, trying to brush it off with a headshake. 

He didn’t put a spotlight on it though, just happily smiling to himself as he stirred the eggs and watched you in his peripheral vision. The high pitched ding rang through the small space and you sighed contently, slipping on the oven mitt and reaching for a pair of tongs to grab the pastries, plating them nicely on two plates.

“You can start eating if you want.” He insisted, turning his head to follow you when you skimmed past him 

You hummed disapprovingly, setting them on the coffee table before making your way back to him,“No, come on I’ll wait for you. Let me wash the–”

He lunged over, getting in the way of you turning on the faucet, “Stop it, you’re gonna overwork yourself.”

You huffed at the absurdity of the situation, seeing as though he was the one who was already overworking himself and it was barely 8 in the morning. 

“I’ve barely done anything all morning.” You argued with a light laugh, attempting to get past his arms and switch the water on. 

Still he stood his ground, not letting your pushing move him with your nudges, “Considering the amount of work you did last night, you shouldn't be doing anything right now.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest tilting your head at him. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?” 

He shook his head, pointing back at the living room with the spatula still in hand. “Not a chance! Now go sit down, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Fine!” You drawled, heavily stomping your foot down and turning on your heel back to the living room. 

Steve’s eyes never left yours, even when his back was turned to you, he could feel you attempting to tidy up your living room in the slightest way, to which he simply bellowed, “sit and relax,” before you were shuffling back into the couch cushions, mumbling how he had eyes on the back of his head like a mother would to which he laughed. 

The kids would certainly agree. 

After a few minutes, you heard the burner shut off, and his footsteps walking over to you.

“Breakfast is served.” he announced, setting the eggs in front of you.

“You’re an angel.” You looked at him, grinning as he handed you a fork from where it was hiding behind his back. 

“I’m flattered.” He took a seat beside you and picked up his plate, “So tell me what’s the plan for today.”

You took a bite out of your eggs, chewing and swallowing them down. “Yesterday I made the frosting for the cupcakes so today we’re gonna make them and ice them.”

“What flavor?”

“Maple and Raspberry.”

His face twisted, lips curled up before he spoke, “I’ve never heard of that combination before.”

“No silly,” You covered your mouth from giggling, “The maple frosting is for the brown sugar cupcakes and the raspberry frosting is for the hibiscus cupcakes, but they also do have a little bit of raspberry in them.”

His bottom lip jutted out over his top one, nodding at your correction, before he lifted a playful brow at you. “But can’t you tell I trust you so much that I thought Maple and Raspberry would be good together?”

Steve trusted you more than he trusted himself which said a lot considering that he was usually pretty set and stone with the way he did things in his own life. After all, his parents didn't play a big role in his so he had to figure out a lot of it by himself. But when it came to you, trust came easy knowing you wouldn’t drop his hand if you told him you wouldn’t. That was the territory between you both, promising and keeping your word – never letting the other fall. 

“If we have any extras maybe we can test it out.” You suggested with a nudge of your elbow into his arm as the two you both smiled and continued to eat.

“How was work yesterday? I didn’t get the chance to ask you over the phone.” You shifted your knees towards him. 

His face covered with mock horror, while you playfully gasped, watching him set his plate down.“Hell. I honestly think it was the most grueling eight hours of my life.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.” You tried to reason with disbelief in your voice, because really, how bad could it have been? 

“Being forced to work a shift with Keith is literal hell. I mean for one he could not shut up and for someone who claims they love movies, he just kept talking over all of the stupid tapes I put on to try to shut him out.” Steve rolled his eyes at the recollection, so thrilled that he wasn’t stuck in the same predicament today. 

“And isn’t Robin working with him today?” You stifled your laughter, for your dear friend who was probably dealing with Keith all by herself right now. 

There was a devious smirk replacing his distaste for yesterday realizing he had planned it accordingly without realizing.

 “Yep, but she’s got a half day so technically she’s only spending half a day in hell with him.”

“You’re horribly considerate for someone who was upset that she called out for a girl.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly, knowing he couldn’t be too upset at Robin. After all, she was his best friend and sure he was pissed for having to work with Keith, but he was happy that she finally got to spend time with Vicky, the same girl she had been pining over since forever. 

“Had I known it was for Vicky I would’ve called out too and came down here to help out sooner, but I thought she caught the flu or something.” He turned his nose up, happier that his best friend didn’t catch anything bad except the love bug. 

Your face contorted with irritation at yourself, waving your hand in the air, “Trust me when I say you’d be glad you skipped out on the mess yesterday.” 

He didn’t skip a beat, shaking his head at you being ridiculous because he’d never miss out a chance to be with you.

 “I wouldn’t have minded anyway.” 

While his words were true, and you definitely believed that he wouldn’t have minded considering he cleaned up the place while you were showering, you felt a little hopeless knowing he was picking up the pieces when he didn’t have to. 

“You know I still feel a little bad that you’re spending your day off helping me bake.” You placed the plate onto the table, letting your shoulders sulk deeper with your hands twiddling in your lap. 

“Why?” He lifted his brows, genuinely confused at why you would feel bad for him where there was nowhere else he’d rather be.  

You gave him a small shrug, looking up at him with uncertainty. “Because you should be doing something you want to do or better yet resting in bed preferably.”

He hated when you tried to look out for him more than yourself, immediately taking your nervous fingers away from your lap and holding them in his. You stared at him, holding on tight and wondering what was going to come out of his mouth. 

“I am doing something I want to do with the person I prefer to be with right now.” 

There was a twinge of vulnerability in his tone and you could see the way it painted his features whole. How you could tell, he was telling the truth about wanting to be here with you and not just doing it because he felt obligated to. 

Your heart was seriously going to break itself out of your chest soon. 

“You’re gonna regret saying that once I turn your kitchen into a disaster.” You joked, squeezing his hand in yours and not letting go. 

He pursed his lips, shaking your comment off, preparing for the said disaster in his kitchen as long as you were going to be there. Becoming a deadweight with his hand in yours, you easily pulled his arm up, neck adjusting to get the time on his watch. 

“If I’m planning it out in my head correctly then we should be done by this afternoon and that way you can drop me off before traffic hits and I’ll drive down tomorrow morn—”

“Pack a bag and spend the night.”

“Huh?”

“Just stay the night at mine that way you won’t need to drive down so early for the farmers market.” He explained like you should’ve known it was the plan all along. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you called out his name in faux exasperation.

“Steveeeee.”

“What?” He pursed his lips slyly, pulling you by the shoulders to get you looking at him again, “you’ll get to spend a few extra minutes in bed and you’ll be saving gas. Basically killing two birds with one stone.”

“But I don’t want to be stuck in your hair the entire day.” You protested. 

His brows lifted suspiciously as his lips twitched up trying to resist the grin, “Woah, you plan on gluing yourself to me or something? Cause if you are, I don’t know if I could forgive you for messing up my mane.”

“You’re impossible,” You nudge his shoulder with a weak fist failing to hide your smile, “I don’t want to be a burden. What if you have plans?”

“I do have plans, silly.” He began, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumbs across your open palms, “and all of them involve you.”

“You know you’re making this very hard for me to decline.” You attempted to harden your features, but to no avail the smile crept through. 

He patted your knee with a victorious look on his face. “Good. We can spend the day baking and prepping then we can sit back and relax. Maybe go out by the pool and sunbathe… Oh! And I got a new tape so we can watch it before bed or something.”

“Sounds tempting.” You fizzled through your teeth, squinting your eyes decisively. 

“That means it’s working and you should say yes.” He whispered, like a voice of reason. 

“Okay.”

“Great, now go pack a bag.” He patted your leg, one, two, three times before standing up and gathering your empty plates in a stack.

“Will you do me a favor while I do that?” You stood, trailing behind him into the kitchen where he was placing the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, I’ll wash the dishes—”

“No, not that!” You laughed, gesturing him towards the counters where a rack of cookies sat alongside other crafty materials. “I need you to package the cookies in little plastic baggies and tie them off with ribbon.”

“I can definitely do that, too.” 

“I got a few done last night but fell asleep before I could finish.” You picked an example up, showing it to him. 

“Don’t worry about it, I can do the rest.” He took the baggie from your hands, ushering you away with a shoo of his hands. 

You thanked him before heading back into your bedroom quickly grabbing the canvas bag that hung above your door as you sifted through your drawers and closet for some clothes.

You picked out a floral dress for tomorrow's event, and settled for an extra set of intimates — you packed an oversized tee and some jeans in case but you knew Steve would let you borrow some of his if you needed and he still had your pair of overalls that he hadn’t given back yet.

“Do I double knot them?” Steve called out.

“Yeah and you can snip the ends to make them even!” 

“Got it, thanks!”

You slung the bag over your shoulder, drawing the curtains and unplugging your lamp just in case since you’d be gone for the night… maybe even the entire weekend. The only thing left to pack was your skincare products, throwing them in a small pouch and making a mental note to set them on the bathroom counter when you got to his to prevent any from leaking out onto your clothes.

Steve finished off tying the last baggie of cookies, bunny earring them and snipping off little bits of the ends to try to make them look as cute as your sample did.

“What do you think?” He held his work of art up as he heard your footsteps coming closer. 

You grinned, holding your hands out before he plopped it into your palm while you inspected it. 

“They’re adorable!” You giggled, smoothing the frayed edges of the cut ribbon.

“Are you trying to be nice? You can tell me if they look bad.” He pouted, attempting to take it back from you to redo the bow knowing you took pride in anything that was yours. 

You shook your head, keeping it towards your chest and away from him. “No, I’m serious! They look so cute, thank you for doing them.” 

His cheek was met with a quick kiss, before you brushed past him putting down your things on the living floor before sauntering back into the kitchen with a mission to get everything ready to go. 

“Y-you’re welcome,” He coughed out, kindly covering the crack in his voice with a sweet smile before he turned to watch you, “Anything else I can do?”

“Stop being so nice.” You poked out your tongue, beginning to pack the cookies into a brown bag for easier transportation. 

He huffed, helping you without being asked, “Now that would turn me into Mike and I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Do you have some vendetta against him or something?” You questioned, hands hitting his with every grab and toss. 

“Oh we all do” He snorted, swiftly sweeping the bag away from you, before pulling the keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll go put your stuff in my car.”

He proceeded to grab the rest of your belongings, lugging the bag you packed and the other stuff to his car all in one go. You triple checked all the appliances making sure everything was unplugged and turned off before you began drawing all the curtains to completely dim the place for the next couple of days. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Yep, just gonna grab the paintings.” You nodded, pointing to the small crate full of finished canvas that you would be selling at the market. 

He didn’t let you even try, immediately beating you the distance and grabbing the box, holding it on his hip as he held the front door open for you. Sticking by your side as he watched you lock up, being your second eyes and even pulling on the handle for an extra precautionary measure. 

The air conditioning had been running, thankfully cooling down the vehicle as you buckled in and watched from the rear view mirror while Steve closed the trunk shut and rounded his way into his seat and did the same. 

“Why don’t you close your eyes until we get to my place?” He suggested, glancing over to you while turning on the radio trying to find a station you would enjoy. 

A dramatic gasp left your lips as you slapped down his visor, opening the mirror to check yourself out. “Wow, do I look that tired?” You half joked, placing your hands on your cheeks in horror. 

“Stop, that’s not what I meant,” He chuckled, reaching over to flip it back into place with a tight regretful smile, “What I meant to say was you didn’t get much sleep last night and it could help a little bit to just close your eyes before doing more work today.”

“But I feel bad, you’ll probably be so bored in complete silence.”

He wondered if you always worried about him this much and while it was cute, he’d have to tell you to stop eventually, because worrying would do you no good, especially if it was about him. 

“You know, you’re gonna need to stop feeling bad for me all the time.” He lectured, tilting his head at you. 

“I can’t help it when you’re stuck with me.”

“Will you please just try to nap at least?” His voice was more optimistic and you nodded skeptically.  

“Fine, but you have to wake me up if you get bored.”

“Deal. Here, this’ll be more comfy.”  He said, leaning across the console and reaching for the lever to lean your chair back all the way for max comfortability. You covered your face, laughing behind them as you wiggled and got comfier in the seat.

“Comfier?” He brought his hands back to the wheel, watching as you nodded your head with closed eyes. 

“Way better than my couch.” You mumbled, positioning yourself towards him, still getting snug in the confines of his car.

He pulled up the emergency break, beginning the journey with one last look at you. “I’ll wake you up when we get there, sweetheart.”

Steve knew you were a natural in the kitchen — ran that place like it was your second home, but what he didn’t anticipate was how you worked when it came to strictly baking. Perhaps him suggesting the nap on the drive to his place was a great idea considering the fact that you were wide awake and running on that coffee he picked up.

He could barely keep up, straying behind to wherever you would go — oven, pantry, fridge, sink, repeat. It was endearing and far from something that Steve would categorize as chaos, in his eyes this was your comfort, somewhere it all just came to you naturally, which also included dishing out tasks, ones that Steve was happy to take up. 

His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, brows scrunching towards the center of his forehead while his hands squeezed the piping bag and wrists swirled it slowly around the tops of the cupcakes.

You bent at the hips, looking through the glass window of the oven checking up on the loaves that had been baking, making sure they were rising properly. Standing up straight, you dusted your hands sneaking up behind Steve to catch a glimpse from over his shoulders.

“You’re doing great!” You whispered cheerfully, not wanting to throw him off his focus.

His shoulders only bumped as he chuckled, head tilting abruptly to the side before finishing off the swirl and setting the piping bag down.

“It’s a little crooked don’t you think?” Steve frowned, picking up the treat and holding it out in front of him.

You shook your head, rubbing his shoulders, “They’re perfect and you’re a complete pro already.”

“Okay now that’s a reach.” He placed it down, turning to you with an unconvinced yet charming grin. 

You tucked your cheek into your shoulder, shrugging, “What? I’m being serious! I messed up like a whole dozen cupcakes before I ever got good and here you are only three in and they’re gorgeous.”

“You’re really making me consider switching careers to part time cupcake piper you know that?”

“I’ll hire you on the spot.”

“Geez, offer a man some insurance first.”

Your face twisted apologetically before spreading with a self indulgently smile, “Probably can’t do that, but I can assure you I know how to properly dress a cut if you end up slicing your hand open!” You chirped sweetly, tapping his cheek with an affectionate pat chuckling against your touch.

The ding of the timer set off, prompting you to turn around and make your way back to the oven, slipping on the mits. A gush of hot air enveloped you as you took out the hot loafs, setting them on the stove. Quickly you shut the door, tossing off the mits as you inspected them with your eyes first. 

“How do they look?” Steve asked, coming beside you as you poked the tip of a knife through the center checking if it was baked all the way through.

A quick second to examine the knife to ensure there was no residue was all it took before you nodded, “Wonderful, but they’ll look even better once I glaze them.”

“What do you need?” He rose his brows heading over to the cabinets ready to get whatever you needed. 

Likewise you went towards the fridge, “Powdered sugar and preferably whole milk — ah ha! Whole milk it is.” you clicked your tongue, peeking past the door to see him looking through the tins and bags.

He cursed under his breath, closing the door a bit to meet your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve got any powdered sugar in here. I should've asked you last night if you needed anything before.”

You shook your head, turning back towards the fridge, “That’s okay, we can go to the store together later?” You suggested going to put the milk back. 

He snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “Better idea, why don’t you go now and I’ll stay back and finish frosting up these cupcakes, hmm?”

“I could wait for you, I don’t need to frost them right away.”

“You need a break, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, here,” He paused, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing behind him into the living room, “Take my car and let me give you some cash.”

“Steve, I don’t need your money.” You countered with a light chuckle, taking the keys from him as he reached into his pocket shaking his head.

“No seriously, take it and get whatever you need. I feel like shit for not asking before and making sure I had all the ingredients.”

He truly felt horrible and you could tell in the way he scrunched his brows and shook his head more at himself than towards you. The last thing he wanted was to fuck up your whole process that he knew you always took the time to run through effortlessly. 

“You’re already doing enough, you know.” You remind him with a tender rub to his shoulder, “It means a lot…you talking to me over the phone, bringing breakfast over this morning, and taking all the way here to make sure I wasn’t lonely.”

It was a true sentiment that you spoke and meant every word of. You were sure that no amount of baked goods or thank yous would ever be enough to show Steve how grateful you were.

“I wanted to, you’ve done so much for everyone, me especially.” He knew you went out of your way for everyone including himself, putting everyone first except you. 

“Well, I wanted to.” You assured him. 

“In that case, I want you to take this and get whatever we need. Please?” He placed the bills in the palm of your hand, smiling when you nodded and palmed it. 

“Do you want anything specific? I think I’m just gonna pick up a bag of powdered sugar and a small thing of white chocolate chips for the scones.” You picked up your purse you had thrown onto the coffee table where you arrived.

He shook his head, walking you to the front door and pulling it open, waiting as you slipped back on your footwear. “I’m alright, I don’t need anything. Just drive safely and don’t be scared to use the horn if you need it.”

You let out a laugh, tiptoeing and placing a kiss on his cheek, “I will and don’t stress about the cupcakes, they already look perfect.”

As you buckled your seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors, you took one more look out the windshield, waving a “see you in a bit,” to the boy watching from the driveway. It was funny to think that the first time you’d been there, you had been sitting in your own car anticipating the entire moment of meeting everyone and now you were there in his car knowing you’d be back in no time. 

Hawkins wasn’t new territory to you. You have frequented the place for years, but it was just a little funny that throughout all the years, these roads never led you to Steve, and all your friends for that matter, until now.

The grocery store you walked into was the same one where you met Robin and from there the rest was history. Funny enough, you hadn’t been there since that interaction — it felt like forever but at the same time it had only been a matter of weeks. Time was silly thing, and it just so happened that all the fates aligned in some magical way.

You strolled through the aisles with a small basket in hand, picking up the necessities while also checking out what they had in stock this time of year. It was in the produce section that you ran into the sweetest lady in town, Joyce, who was seemingly glaring at the tower of apples debating on which ones to pick.

“Granny Smiths, Fuji, and Galas are the go-to if you’re gonna use them for baking, but if not then any will do, just make sure none of them have noticeable dents.” 

You snuck up beside her, stifling your laughter as she jumped for the initial scare, then again, but with a smile on her face when she realized that it was you.

“Honey! Oh my god, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She quickly engulfed you in a hug, before you finally greeted her properly.

“Are you here with Steve?” She asked, looking around to see if he was nearby.

You shook your head, checking out the pile of apples and picking some for you and him as a snack.. “No, he’s actually back at his place frosting cupcakes for tomorrow.”

An impressed smile was plastered on her face, her cheeks lifting with a cheeky blush, “He’s just the best huh?” she teased, as you giggled and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Who’s the best?”

The deep voice bellowed a few feet behind you, prompting you to look over your shoulder, and down came Hopper sporting a surprising pale pastel button up, lugging two boxes of Coca-Cola. He gave you a pointed look, something that silently said, “please don’t comment on my non-work attire,” to which you honored, obviously.

“Hey Hop,” You waved, reaching out to give him a small hug after he placed the drinks into the cart. He patted your arm, before letting his drape over your shoulder as you laughed and let him be.

“We were talking about Steve,” Joyce started, “He’s back at home helping her out with the bake sale for tomorrow.”

He peered down on you with a stern nod, “Well isn’t that great. Drove down here yourself? Car not giving you any issue right?”

He really was a dad right down to his core. If you told him how you’ve been avoiding driving your car for the past couple of days, he would probably suggest he go check it out then and there.

“Oh no, Steve actually picked me up this morning and let me take his car to come here for some stuff we needed.”

“He let you drive his car?” He questioned, taken aback and clearly so as he dropped his arm and propped it up on his hip.

“I know, crazy right. He has a lot of trust in me.” You coughed up a laugh, while Joyce piped in something about how she thought it was sweet of him to do.

“Says a lot considering he never even lets me take her for a spin.” He shook his head, dramatically clicking his tongue at all the times he had failed to get the keys to the Harrington vehicle. 

Joyce groaned, tilting her head at him.“That’s because you’re a forty year old man that drives like a drunk sixteen year old on prom night.”

“Ouch!” He shouted, face coated in fake hurt as she brushed him off.

Turning her attention back to you when you asked, “Will I be seeing you guys tomorrow?”

She smiled brightly, clapping her hands towards herself, “Oh of course! I’m helping Karen run her book exchange booths.”

“And I am acting as security.” Hop announced, plucking an apple and taking a bite out of it.

“Just you? Where’s the rest of your unit?” You pestered him jokingly.

He only shrugged, mouth full of half chewed up apples as he replied.“I have no idea, but the event will need some securing.”

“Honey, it’s a farmers market. I don't think there’s anything to be securing.” Joyce reasoned.

“We’ll see about that.” He shot back with no harm.

Their bickering was always light hearted and fun, something you could appreciate because it was the laughter that always kept the relationship lively. And in any relationship for that matter, laughter was like the heartbeat to it all, something so witty, but essential — you wondered if you and Steve sounded like that from time to time.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you opened your arms, and reached over to give Joyce a farewell hug. 

“Well I should get going, I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Of course, tell Steve we said hello and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Will do!” You said, pulling away, and doing the same to Hopper.

“Bye kid.” He patted your head before letting you go your separate way.

The drive back home was as pleasant as the drive over, just lacking in company. You didn’t think that you’d get used to driving Steve's car without him being there in the passenger, but still, it was a thoughtful offer and it did give yourself some time to clear your head of all the stress that you endured yesterday though much of it was already gone since you woke up this morning. 

You placed it in park when you got into his driveway, grabbing all the grocery bags in one go before you exited the car and made sure it was locked up. The front door was surprisingly unlocked, meaning Steve hadn’t moved since you left. You’d lecture him about leaving the door unlocked when there were freshly frosted cupcakes that burglars would most definitely take first.

“Steve, I’m back!” You called out, toeing off your sandals at the foyer before you made your way into the living room dropping his keys back onto the coffee table.

“Still in the kitchen!”

You lugged the bags along, lifting them in the air as you walked through the doorway.

“I know you told me you didn’t want anything but I ended up grabbing a bag of tangerines and I was thinking we could make some drinks for when we go out to the — oh my god!”

They fell with a heavy clunk to the ground and thank goodness there wasn’t any glass in there, but the poor apples would definitely be bruised. Steve turned his head over his shoulder, quickly shutting off the water as you stared at the loaves sitting on a raised plate as the excess icing dripped off the sides.

“Sur-prise?” He cracked a nervous smile, wiping his hands dry, hoping to receive the right reaction from you.

“You iced the loaves?!”

If your tone came sharper than you meant, he didn’t notice it and neither did you. Steve was too busy watching the surprise wash over your features — the way your eyes widened and mouth hung open.

He leaned against the counters, still watching you until your eyes finally met his. Picking up the index card you had brought from home, and walking over to the pantry, pulling out a now empty bag of powdered sugar, and placing them on the counter.

“I may or may not have lied about the powdered sugar but yeah, I read the recipe card and followed it to the tee.”

He paused, opening a drawer to retrieve a spoon, scooping up a little of the excess that dripped into a bowl before handing it over to you, “Here, give it a taste, please.”

You could tell he was nervous, eyes leaking anticipation while he held it out, his hands nearly shaking. It was cute that he got so nervous, like you could ever be mad at him for trying his hand at something so thoughtful of him to do. So you took the spoon, sticking it into your mouth before you promptly hummed around it, nodding your head at him with wide eyes that should’ve been enough to tell him he did great. 

“Fuck did I mess it up?” He spoke with an uneasy feeling, swiping his finger into the bowl and grabbing a sample to taste, pressing his lips together to try to decipher if something was terribly wrong. 

You shook your head hastily, removing the spoon from your mouth before twirling it in the air, “No you nailed it, like absolutely nailed it!”

Still even with your assurance, he seemed to doubt himself, picking up the bowl for himself, moving it around to test the consistency of the frosting. He held it out towards you, tipping it back and forth. 

“It’s not too runny? I think I added more than a capful of milk.”

Instead of trying to ease his worries with words, you simply rounded the corner, taking the bowl away from him so all he could focus on was you. It was cute that now you could see what Steve meant when he said you go into your head all too much — maybe he was right when he said self-doubt would get you nowhere but a headache. 

“You did perfect,” You began, dusting off the powdered sugar off his t-shirt, looking up at him with a grin, “not too runny, not too thick. Just right.”

It was enough to stop him in his tracks, ironing the worries away in the same way he did yours more often than not. The hand on his chest didn’t leave, when the words stopped, in fact you kept it there, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt without really thinking much of it, while Steve tried to keep his composure and heart in his chest.

“S-so what did you buy?” He deterred his sights, looking towards the floor where the groceries still sat.

You squinted, hand stopping its movements, as you flashed him a sneaky smile shaking your head before slightly digging your fingers into the dough of his chest. 

“No, we’re not just gonna skim over that whole thing…you lied to me!” You shrilled. 

And like that, the kitchen erupted with laughter, Steve failing to keep up the innocent act, and you beyond astounded that you fell for it. He held his hands up in defense as playfully pushed him away, even stepping back as he tried to move closer, just to be theatrical. 

“Okay technically I didn’t lie lie!” He countered with his hands waving in the air. You crossed your arms over your chest, raising a brow at him,  “I thought I didn’t have enough of it but after you left, I measured it out and like the recipe said, a half cup sugar for each of the loaves and I just so happen to have one cup.”

He was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met: not a chance you could be upset even if it was just pretend. 

Steve had already done so much for you in less than 24 hours. From dealing with your anxiety over the phone, to driving all the way to you, and then on top of that trying to take the stress off your plate.

There was a pinch between your brow, beginning to grow deeper and your lip caught between your teeth. The longer you didn’t say anything, the more Steve caught the tell-tale signs of your guilt knowing you hated that he was doing so much and you finally got a break you deserved. 

He was just as quick to reassure you, stepping forward and testing the waters to see if you’d close the space and to which you did, pouting up at him with an adorable frown until your chest met his in a hug. 

You could feel him smile against your head, hands wrapped around your body as he tightened the hold tenderly, “I wanted to do it. You needed a break.” He murmured into your hair as you chuckled into the fabric of his shirt. 

It felt routine by now, and you didn’t need to thank him verbally when he gave you a nod as soon as he pulled away and saw the sincere look upon your face. The way he was able to read you like an open book felt personal, the only kind of way that you wanted to be read by him. Ins and outs of you already memorized so carefully with little to no room to question if he was right or not.

You didn’t want him to question anything, especially not you.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily let it out, slowly pulling away from each other until you looked over the counters and to the ground. 

“Tangerines.” You called out, moving across the tiles.

“Huh?” 

“I picked up some tangerines at the grocery store.”

You handed him the netted bag of fruits that he easily ripped open and let them spill over the table top, “They’re in season?” He pursed his lips, inspecting the fruit carefully. 

You nodded, reaching out for the remnants of its packaging, smoothing it out to show him the label, “They’re from Long Beach, California.”

It piqued his interest, looking over at you like you’d know the answer to his curiosity, “Do you think they grow on Sunrise Boulevard?”

You giggled, shrugging your shoulders while you unloaded the rest of the items. “Probably. I’ve never been so I don’t know for sure.”

“We should go someday.”

He extended the invitation as if you, a paycheck to paycheck living individual, could ever afford a trip like that in a heartbeat. But it was the fact that he extended it in the first place that had your insides twisting and turning like a lovesick fool.

We. The possibility of you two going together. And he said it as sweetly as it sounded, honey dripping from his lips, with a smile oh so beautiful that you could really believe that maybe you two could go together one day — even if the rest of your friends tagged along.

As long as he was there with you there was always the possibility of we. 

Steve often transported you back to middle school, the days where you caught yourself kicking your feet and blushing like an idiot over a boy who said all the right things. The only difference is Steve didn’t let you crash and burn on the ground. With him, things feel different.

“We should.” You said, lifting your hanging head, not caring anymore about hiding the red flush of your cheeks.

“Good.” He smiled with a nod that he was more so giving himself, his brain spitting out all of the celebratory phrases it could think of after seeing the double vision of your rose blush. 

For once, the both of you seem to be a bit braver in your endeavors, holding the intimate eye contact in the silence of birds chirping from outside the flung windows and the whistle of the wind. If you two were a cartoon animation, your hearts would have been jumping out of your chests, and interlocking hands by now.

His eyes didn’t stare blankly at you, and yours certainly didn’t shoot dangers through him. It was as if you both were swimming in each other, taking one another in without a single word spoken because none needed to be said.

You both knew it and you both could hear it in the silence.

“Why don’t we go for a swim, yeah? Call it a day with the baking and just… just spend some time?”

Together he wanted to say. Something that should’ve slipped freely but instead died in his throat, too scared to let you know what spending time together really meant to him, between the both of you, actually. 

“I’d love that.”

You kicked Steve out of the kitchen, claiming that he could at least let you finish up the cleaning after he had lied to you about the powdered sugar. You could hear him from the stairs, still arguing that it wasn’t really a lie, making you shake your head and snort while you wiped down the counters.

He emerged as you finished washing the sticky icing bowl, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks with two towels under his arm. You were sure, he caught you staring for a second, before kicking you out the kitchen to go get changed while he made you both drinks and skimmed the pool for dead leaves and critters.

Getting changed in the confines of his bedroom felt like the first time you had been there all over again. Only this time you weren’t a stranger and he’s not waiting on the other side of the door for you to be done. 

This time you’re a piece of his life and he’s waiting for you.

Slipping into your swimwear, you caught a glimpse of yourself in his mirror. It had occurred to you that this was the first time you would be as bare as you would be in front of him. Sure you weren’t a prude or anything, but you always felt a bit shy, and your feelings for Steve didn’t make it any better.

Not wanting to leave him waiting for so long, you plucked a random shirt from his dresser and threw it over yourself before jogging down the stairs and out the sliding door where he stood with the pool stick in hand, grabbing whatever that was floating on the surface.

“I’m back,” You made your presence known, moving beside him to see the small pile of leaves he gathered on the side of the pool.

Your nose turned up at the little critters that crawled away into the grass, before Steve whistled and pointed to the shaded umbrella, “M’almost done over here, I put your drink over there.” 

The pool loungers had been tugged under the shade with towels laid out over the cushions and a variety of snacks sitting along inside the drinks. 

“I just juiced some of the tangerines and stirred it with some tequila and margarita mix I had left. If it’s too strong, I can add more juice or make you another.”

You thanked him, walking over to take a seat and sip on the drink while you waited for Steve to finish the pool maintenance. A lot of his home was taken care of by him, and you could understand why if his parents weren’t home too often – it forced him to take up everything and keep everything in order. 

You wondered why Steve never gave himself the credit he deserved. Only in his early twenties already taking on what most people in their late twenties still had a hard time getting a grove with. Yet he made it look flawless with little to no complaints about his situation and how this responsibility might have been too much for him. 

But deep down in the pit of your stomach, you wondered if this place was really his home or a home he was looking after until he found his. It wasn’t entirely the same situation as yours, hell, you got out the moment freedom striked. 

Steve had everything: enough money to pay for rent at a decent apartment nearby, all the life skills in the world, and himself — you just wondered why he was staying. 

“How is it?” He called out, back facing you from the other side of the backyard where he stuffed the pool scopper back into the shed. 

Your hand raised above your forehead blocking the sun as he walked towards you, the other picked up his drink handing it to him when he sat on the end of your lounger, thankfully blocking the remnants of rays for you. 

You watched him take a sip, nodding his head at himself before looking over to you for your opinion.

“Good! Not too strong actually, I think the tangerine juice is great.” You bubbled, taking another sip of yours before placing it back on the table with a clink. 

He hummed through his drink, before setting it down and taking a look at you. You had made more space for him on the lounger despite him having his own only a few feet away. Your legs tucked under yourself, and arms came to wrap around your midsection, attempting to hide from his gaze despite his t-shirt that was already drowning you.  

You were naturally sheepish, and he knew that but he hoped you weren’t doing this just because he suggested it. The last thing he wanted was to force you into doing something you didn’t want to be doing. Hell, the both of you could be inside sitting in silence, and Steve would be happy, long as you were there. 

“You know, we don’t have to swim if you don’t want to. We could just sit out here and talk, whatever you want okay? Whatever is comfortable—”

“No, no, I’m fine! I—I’m just a little shy, that’s all.” You shook your head, attempting to relax your tense muscles, untucking your legs from underneath you.

He grinned, nodding slowly, as his fingers grazed the sleeve of his shirt on your body. “That's okay, nothing wrong with that,” he assured you, meeting your eyes with a impish glint, “nice shirt by the way.”

“Thanks… for letting me borrow it, I mean.” 

You looked down at the graphic, finally aware that it was an Eagles t-shirt, that unbeknownst to you was one of his favorites and only worn during special sports occasions. However he decided in his mind that anytime you wanted to wear the garment, it was a special occasion in itself. He wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

“Always.” He grinned, looking down into his lap, not wanting to frighten you with his ceaseless content. 

The heat of Indiana wasn’t as fierce as it had been for the past summer and you hoped it would stick around, at least until tomorrow so you all could survive a pleasant farmers market afternoon. For now, you’d enjoy whatever mercy the season would have on the town with no complaints, especially when there was a mansion with a view sitting right beside you. 

“Wanna get in?” You snapped out of your thoughts, eyes following his movements as he asked you and took another sip.  

You sat up, legs extending over his as you looked out at the aquamarine reflection of the water. “Uh, yeah, do you have any sunblock, by any chance?”

He clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against your shins. “Shit, yeah, sorry I totally forgot. I think the kids used up the last bottle but I have the spray kind, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” You nodded, lifting your legs and letting him slide away. 

He walked through the sliding door again, and you could hear the slight rustle of him looking through cabinets and cursing at himself that the kids must have misplaced it. With him still busy you took a deep breath, tugging the shirt off your body and smoothing your fingers over your skin. 

You had nothing to be insecure about, not when it came to Steve's eyes. He’d seen you stripped down with your emotions – sadness, insecurity, exhaustion and everything in between. Him seeing you in a bathing suit was far less intimidating than it seemed.  

“Sorry, I think Dustin must’ve knocked the cap off or something but it still sprays and… oh, h-hey.”

The sunblock slipped from his hands, poorly failing to juggle back into his grip in time before it clanked against the concrete. You didn’t give him an answer, simply lifting your brow before you choked out a fit of laughter, hunching over yourself to grab your tummy.

Steve didn’t mean to be such a man, but just a split second ago, you were covered up in his t-shirt which alone made his head spin, and now, he was seeing skin that had never been exposed before and he felt like he might pass out and knock his head into the concrete. Perhaps it would have been a terribly gruesome way to go out, but at least you were the last thing he got to look at before he went. 

“I—I’m sorry!” He stuttered, turning away sharply as his throat bopped with a swallow, “I didn’t mean to say that, it kinda just slipped out. Feel free to totally hit or slap me right now, because that was super duper weird of me and—”

You stood up, prompting him to seal his lips as his eyes slowly turned to watch you pick up the sunscreen, beginning to spray the formula onto your arms, working it into your skin.

You looked up at him through your lashes, washing away his embarrassment as he saw you shake your head.“It’s fine, really. I don’t think it was weird, at all… just super duper funny.” You teased, scrunching your nose at him.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, still looking apologetic in his features.“I feel like an idiot,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly. 

You tilted your head at him, wiggling the bottle in the air. “You can make up for it by getting my back for me?”

He took it from your hands, watching as you spun around and pulled your hair away. “You sure?” 

You hummed, “Positive, unless you’re gonna say ‘hi’ to my behind too.” You joked, turning over your shoulder to see him scoff a laugh before spraying you down.

He was careful, asking permission before his hands even touched your skin, and then again when he had to work the product under the straps of the suit. His fingertips are light and gentle, and at the same time meticulous, making sure not to miss a spot and let a single sliver of your skin get burned by the sun.

“Want me to get yours too?” You suggested, spinning back around when his hands finally dropped from you.

“Only if you want to.”

“Spin, Harrington.” You twirled your finger in the air, grasping the sunblock and getting to work.

It was different, feeling your touch without a layer of clothing in the way. Sure, you’ve both slept in the same bed, practically in each other's arms with him shirtless, and you two definitely touched each other in the softest way that no one else did. But your touch right now was suffocating, eating him whole as he tried to breathe through it and tell himself that you were too good for him. 

“You have a million beauty marks.” You murmured, breath fanning over his neck making him go dizzy. 

He swallowed, turning over his shoulder to watch you rub the product over his shoulder blades, your fingers working mindfully under his gaze. 

“B-beauty marks? Moles, you mean?”

You met his eyes, shaking your head with the softest look upon your face. “I prefer to call them beauty marks.” 

“That’s cute.” He whispered as a reply.

“Yours are too.” You complimented, feeling him exhale soothingly while your hands worked the rest of the skin, ending it off by tapping your fingers against the beauty marks, “all done.” 

You twisted the bottle shut, tossing it on the lounger for later when you two would have to reapply. Turning towards him you ran your hands up and down your arms, waiting for what was next. 

“Are you a strong swimmer?” He lifted his brows, watching you think. 

You blinked, thinking  of all the rare moments you’ve ever been in a body of water there in the midwest. “J-just a little. Why?” 

“Don’t want you to drown.” He said, a smirk growing on his face. 

You shook your head, not understanding what he was getting at. 

“Why would I— Steve!”

 A squeal ripped through your throat, as he scooped you up into his arms bridal style, carefully walking you both over to the edge of the pool where hid your face in his chest expecting a gush of water without warning. He couldn’t help but chuckled, adjusting your higher with a small toss until you wrapped your arms around his neck securely. 

“You ready?” He bellowed out into the air with a hoot, cradling your head gently for extra measure.

“Whenever you are.” You pinched your eyes shut, tucking yourself more into him as if that would make it less worse. 

And like that, cold water engulfed your body all at once. Even in the big splash, Steve’s arms never left your body, keeping himself glued to you as you both came up to the surface and your hands brushed your hair away from your face. 

“I got you,” Steve laughed, shaking the water away from his face and never daring to let his arms leave your body.  

“It’s so cold!” You whimpered, immediately wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling yourself closer to his body where your jaw trembled against his collarbone. 

He could feel you shaking in his arms, taking a bit longer to adjust to the coolness given the fact that you hadn’t been to a pool in ages. His hands ran up and down you back, pausing in between passes to knead your skin. 

“You’ll warm up soon,” He guaranteed, kissing the side of your head before resting his chin on top of yours, the two of you fastened together with a stitch until your shivering fizzled out. 

Usually Steve’s pool was filled with the bustle and shouts of children, water splashing everywhere and him standing on the sidelines with his hands on his hips, reminding the kids not to run on the wet pavement. 

Though today it might have been the most peaceful it’s ever been. 

Turns out, you’re not the best swimmer after all these years with little to no access to any pool or beaches, but you are one hell of a floater, giggling as Steve waded the water beside you, mimicking waves and moving you along the expanse. 

You two attempted to race, doing laps back and forth, but you gave up a few seconds in, elbows resting on the concrete as you watched each stride he took against the water until he was back to you. Rubbing his eyes, he caught his breath and looked at you in disbelief. 

“You beat me?!”

“By a long shot.” You joked, before he playfully rolled his eyes and swam closer to you. 

His hands sneaking underwater reaching out to grip your thighs and throw them over his hips where you quickly held on tight as we took you both to the center of the expanse. There was little to no room between you both anymore, the personal space bubble had popped long ago and now it was a shared out that sheathed the both of you. 

Steve didn’t think he could let you go, even if he tried. 

With your backs beneath the sun, everything felt right. Clearing the air, you breathed in the mix of chlorine and each other. The only sounds were the whistle of the wind, the swoosh of the water around you, and your harbored inhales and exhales. 

It was all consuming in the best way possible. 

For Steve, the city he had lived in his entire life felt as cruel as the loves in his past. And there were a lot of loves: platonic and romantic, yet nothing felt entirely like this – not even close. There was always a flaw, a blemish in time that made the past never work out the way he had hoped, but there was a gut wrenching realization that ever since he saw you, there was no need to look back at those shortcomings. 

He was quieter than usually, eyes studying you without even realizing it, still you didn’t shrink under his view. You followed his sights, watching as his orbs moved from a part of your face to the next, taking you in like an art piece, memorizing every detail like his life depended on it. 

And for a moment a wave of realization washed over you. The way you were in Steve’s arms, the way he was looking at you, the way you looked at him — friends didn’t do the things you both did, especially when your other friends were around. 

Steve was just your friend when he gave you a long-sleeve to borrow, drove down to your art gallery, talked you through your worst moments, offered you a bed to sleep in, slept with you in said bed.

But maybe you and Steve were never destined for the whole friendship thing. You both had crossed so many lines unforgiven, and there was no way either of you could deny the truth by saying goodbye.  

You had to step into it and let go. 

You swallowed, arms tightening around his neck while your chest rose with a deep puff. Only then did he snap out of the haze, blinking slowly until he shook his head and snapped his eyes to yours silently apologizing to which you brushed off with a half-hearted smile. 

“You know, some beauty marks have meaning.” You revealed, hushed tone just loud enough for him to catch against the breeze. 

His breath hitched, tips of his fingers caressing your spine, tracing it up and down absentmindley like second nature.“Y-yeah?”

You nodded, eyes meeting him, almost pleading for him to let you. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Please do.”

His grip on you was tight enough to allow you to let go, letting your arms float freely in the water, before thumbing the marks on his skin delicately.

“You’ve got a bunch of tiny ones by your eyes,” You whispered, carefully swiping over them with your thumbs, “these ones mean that you’re hard working, which you are.” You said obviously. 

He’d be willing to work harder to make whatever this was permanent. To wake up from the dark night he’d been sleeping through since he could remember. He’d do it all, if it meant getting to wake up to you, everyday… to wake up and be yours, it was that simple. 

Your thumb moved down to the double freckles on his cheek, murmuring, “Sensitive.”

“Like a cry baby?” He questioned, still full of jokes despite the inner monologue that was eating his entire being up. 

You breathed through your laugh, holding his face still as you clarified. “Like someone in touch with their emotions.” 

Steve never had the best upbringing, you knew that, and while your understanding of the whole picture was very little, you knew that he didn’t let that define him. He didn’t treat his past as an excuse to be horrible to other people, in fact it made him better. Softer in his approach to situations that he did his best to guide instead of control.  

Honesty was the freckle on his chin. Steve never tried to prove himself to be a good person, worthy of something greater than the things he was given, even when he was. He had trusted the wrong people in the past, did and said things he was never proud of, but he didn’t ever pretend like those moments didn’t happen. 

His reputation, the one that should've scared you away and prevented you from getting to know the real him, was in your eyes, the most delicate thing about him. He didn’t try to put up a perfect facade for you, but he did prove that he threw out all the bad, every cloak that hid his true colors and daggers that fought every truth — he threw them out, not to become someone new, but to finally be him. 

How you wished you could’ve been brave enough to say it all because you wanted him to so desperately know. 

And how Steve wished he could dive into your mind and swim through your thoughts as you stared at him with complete tenderness. Something he didn’t think he could ever get used to because what about him could possibly make you go slack-jawed? He didn’t know what you saw him, but quite frankly he’d listen if you’d tell him. He’d listen to anything you had to say. 

“Any other ones?” His grips moved down to your waist squeezing gently and seeking the connection in the midst of your silence. 

You hummed, giving him a soft smile before he reciprocated it, visibly enchanted by your ability to get lost in him the way he got lost in you. 

“You’ve got a special one right here,” You let your fingers brush over his cupid's bow, caressing the spot back and forth. 

His eyebrows jutted up curiously, breath fanning over your thumb as he spoke. “Special, huh? You’ve gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

He pulled you in just a little closer, your chest bumping into his and your foreheads just inches apart, and like that, you were a little more brave with nothing left to be scared of. Your hands cradled his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on yours with every word that left your mouth because you wanted him to understand, to see himself the way you saw him. 

“Empathy. The world lacks it, but somehow you’re full of it.” Your words flowed with conviction as does the admiration that sparkled in your eyes. 

“H-how?” His voice broke, as if he could barely believe that he had an ounce of it within him. 

You rolled your shoulders back, determined to get him to see it in himself. “Well for starters, you’re a great listener. Always listening to me ramble about dumb stuff and—”

“Nothing you say is dumb.” Steve said sincerely, fingers caressing your back warmly against the coolness of the water. 

“See, you’re also good at reassuring me.” You grinned, teasing him because he proved himself wrong. 

He rolled his eyes comically as you went on. “And you always try your best to understand me, even when I’m a mess and nothing makes sense. You try and you put yourself in my shoes to try to understand.”

“I always want to understand you.” He murmured, eyes staring into yours with fondness that was difficult to not shy away from, but you forced yourself to bear it. 

“I know, and that’s why you’re such a good person, Steve.” You smiled, rubbing your thumbs along his cheekbones following his structure. 

Steve Harrington was quite possibly the best person you’d ever get the honor of knowing the way that you did. You truly wanted to share him with the world, to give everyone a look at the finest person who was everything and more jumbled up into one being, but at the same time you wanted to be selfish, to keep him to yourself because no one deserved him, sometimes you felt like you didn’t either.

You just got lucky. 

“I hate not knowing what you’re feeling.” He admitted, swallowing thickly, remembering all those times he had to poke and prod in order to get down to the root of your sadness. 

You nodded understandingly, hating how closed off you were in the past. “Sometimes I’m too scared to say it outloud.”

You wanted to be more like Steve, not wanting to be defined by the things that you hate, the things that you were afraid of, or the things that haunted you in the middle of the night. You wanted to throw out your sword and live in peace just being defined for what you loved… the people you loved.  

“Why?”

Your eyes met his curious ones with reluctance, nerves kicking into gear more than ever because you knew what saying the truth meant.  

“B-because, I don’t want to mess things up.” You said, nervously massaging the back of his neck with gentle touches hoping he couldn’t feel them shake. 

All this time you thought it was black and white. Too scared to let the past go because of the years you had put into them, and too scared to move forward because you didn’t want a repeat. The extremes that held you back, believing that failing once meant failing forever — all of that meant nothing anymore. 

All you could see in your mind was you and Steve intertwined, all of the bad that you had thought up was put behind you and you never wanted to look away from him. 

“You couldn’t mess anything up, not between us.” He said firmly, one hand loosening from your body to grab at your elbow, bringing it back to his cheek where he wanted you to feel him. 

All this time he thought it was burning red. Chaos and dramatics without ever solving anything. The highest of highs and lowest of lows, a dangerous path that never led him anywhere except heartache and pain. The treacherous journey that was always destined for failure — he didn’t feel that anymore. 

All he could see in his head was him sneaking back and forth from your town with you in his bed, and nothing would ever be the same. 

“Are you sure?” Yours eyes locked, his washing away any lingering feelings of doubt with a simple nod. 

You saw the thick swallow and bop of his throat while his hands traveled to your jaw, holding you there. “I’m positive because I’ve been feeling too.” 

And like that you both were wide awake.  

“S-say it please,” Steve pleaded running his thumbs over the bottom of your lip wanted to feel it so he knew it was real. 

“I-I could show you instead.” You murmured, taking his wrist in your hand, feeling the thumb of his pulse. 

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours, feeling you breathe against him like a lifeline reaching out.

“Please.”

Finally you both were letting it go, stepping into it together because what you had was golden, like daylight.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: happy new year everyone!!! I’ve missed you all so much and I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long — I took a break from posting as avidly in order to prioritize letting myself rest up and enjoy my break. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and a big thank you to my love, Effie, for helping me proofread this and always giving me the best advice ever!!! I can’t wait for you all to read the next chapter!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[synnthamonsugar]

DESTINYTOBER: Day 20 - Ghost

Read it on AO3

. . .

The way the others told it, the Witness tempted the unthinkable. To Zavala, it promised the return of his long-dead family. For Crow, a second chance at life free from the stain of his predecessor. Gifts even the Traveler could not provide were gladly held in the myriad outstretched hands of the First Knife, not only offered but pushed into the arms of its would-be recipients. 

It did not escape Ikora's morbid sense of humor that her Final Shape took the form of normality. Such a storied life. Such power and knowledge. Friends near enough to her heart to be family, people who understood her and she knew in kind. She had everything a Guardian could want, except the thing that supposedly comes most naturally — a relationship with her Ghost. 

Her dynamic with Ophiuchus was largely one of coworkers: distant, unemotional, respectful enough to get by without major incident. Still, she would not knock on his office door to ask advice, nor go for drinks with him after clocking out. They were well-matched in being mismatched, mutually comfortable with the tension belying the fact they would not interact if they weren't forced to by circumstance.

For the most part. Ikora overthought everything, and this was no exception. Inoften, but enough, she wondered: should she want a relationship with Ophiuchus? Should she want to want it? What did it say about her if she didn't? Would having it be a balm for an ache she didn't even notice, and would soothing that ache fix her doubt?

Ikora was meditating atop a high boulder in the Refraction when the Witness first called to her. It made its appeal wordlessly, entering her mind with visions of what could be: quiet moments at home, Ophiuchus snuggled to her chest as she read. Nestled beside her pillow, optic dimmed, as she drifted to sleep and awoke. In moments of pain he spoke reassurances, and in times of triumph he celebrated with her. He loved who and what she loved, and opposed that which she opposed. Wide-eyed, she snapped out of the dream, but some of the warmth in her chest remained. 

For days, it tried and failed to win her with subtlety. 

When it reached out next, it was with a grip hard enough to not ignore. 

She blinked, and found herself transported from the forested groves of the Blooming to a dark, empty space outside of space, a spectral image of Ophiuchus before her, optic plaintive, unwavering from her gaze. From everywhere and nowhere, the many mouthed voice spoke:

— We can provide blissful unity with your other half. Is that not what you desire? —

"No," Ikora replied, calm but defiant. "Not if it means forcing him to be something he's not. Not if it means changing myself to fit arbitrary definitions of what a Guardian should be."

— But you strive for perfection. A guardian is but one piece of a two-part whole. That which is incomplete can only be flawed. —

"You are complete, maybe more complete than anything in the history of the universe has been. Yet you are fatally flawed. Even if —" she emphasized it harshly, " — I'm not whole, I can be perfect."

It flared with anger. Cold wind rushed against Ikora from all directions. 

— You think your Traveler wise. Benevolent. Why would an intelligent and loving creator pair two souls so unfit for each other together? Why would it foster division between the smallest units of itself, if not to encourage strife? —

"You are so self-obsessed that you cannot comprehend that others have motives separate from yours. You cannot imagine a relationship built on mutual trust and respect and selflessness — only subjugation and force." She brushed away the ghostly image before her. "You have nothing to offer me or Ophiuchus. Be gone at once."

At that, she was back where she'd departed from, astral winds replaced by the warm, fragrant breeze, the sudden brightness of the sky watering her eyes. 

Ophiuchus, the real Ophiuchus, was there. 

"You fell off my sensors," he excused himself. 

"We had a talk." 

"I didn't hear it, but I felt it. Did you mean all that?"

She nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"Good," he nodded back, before transmatting away. Ikora smiled to herself, glad to have him as her partner.

[perdicinae-observer]

Title.

Urgh, how do people normally start this... Fancy greetings? Right, right. Hm...

Afternoon. (That was not fancy at all.)

This is Marshal Louis Nicolas Davout writing. Or...well, typing.

I've decided to finally excuse myself from my moping session solitude and venture into unknown territory that is this strange platform. (Which I have been...observing from a distance.)

Seeing as my late colleagues have been up to some...shenanigans on this platform, I might as well find something to amuse myself with the ample time I'm given and do some...[*grimaces*]...socialising.

[*sigh*] I'm going to regret this...

So, to whoever may see this and care; you are free to send me your questions, letters, and queries regarding whichever subject you wish. I will be reading through and answering them accordingly when I am not busy tending to domestic matters around the painfully quiet estate.

However, do be mindful of the things you send. Respect goes both ways and I do not like to squabble. Unless it's against certain b

Unsavoury comments regarding my hair will swiftly be ignored and used as fuel for the fireplace.

...Don't expect me to initiate interactions much.

Regards,

L Davout.

——————————•

!! This is a joke RP account run by @mbenguin, a guy who is in no way shape or form a bona fide historian-- just really enthusiastic about balding dead nerds and French history! This is in no way meant to be accurate, analytical, or faithful 100% to reality despite being based on actual historical facts to a certain degree. This is a fictionalised parody that is meant to be in-character as possible to my interpretation of the man himself and I'm doing it for shits and giggles !!

Handy list of folks participating in this madness (whose exchanges will be tagged separately!)

Events (chronological, sometimes) ──

[✓ — Finished , ✗ — Ongoing]

Birth of "Lenoir", Hell's cutest ink demon chick

Local Old Man Turned Cutest Owl Ever, More On Page 2

Princess of Eckmühl(?)

⇲ Swedish Home Invasion

⇲ Catgirl Madness (ft. The Ass Boys)

Arc: The Ginger Rescue Expedition

⇲ Lenoir took over correspondence!

⇲ Party ADCs in the house tonight

Epilogue (1,2)

He's back!

Swedish Home Invasion 2 Dinner?

Waterloo 2: Electric Boogaloo

The Gasconious Wedding

Eagle sitter

Pheasant insanity

Arc: Winter Has Come

⇲ October ( i, ... )

⇲ Brief escape (The Masquerade)

Tags ──

#correspondance de Savigny-sur-Orge -- The marshal's replies to his letters- sent straight from his humble, lonely manor. Could both be written and spoken answers.

#dépêches personnelles -- General responses/exchanges (hilarity ensues)

#proclamations du Prince d'Eckmühl -- Important announcements/event messages

#représentations par le petit gardien -- Drawn visual representation by the marshal's mysterious companion...whose text will be in purple!

#la réponse du petit gardien -- Said mysterious companion's answering his letters, if there are any directed towards him.

#galerie d'oiseaux -- Collection of bird images that 'ruffled his feathers.' With positive connotations.

Be careful when asking questions regarding Aimée or his family!

——————————•

[ammonite-collective]

Autism terminology

Person with autism vs autistic person

I know that professionals dealing with disabled populations are taught directly to use person first-language regardless of what the person they’re working with prefers. Person first language is the idea of stating that the person with a disability is a PERSON and their disability is secondary.

I have seen a significant portion of the autistic community, including myself, preferring identity first terminology. My reasoning is that my autism cannot be separated from me to be to end up with the same person. My autism is very much a part of me and it shapes my experiences so I would not be who I am now without my autism. That’s not a good or bad thing. It is simply a neutral fact.

Person first language also includes using “person with a disability” as opposed to “disabled person.” The idea seems to be that the disability doesn’t define a person but a lot of the time it does and it’s important to say that. I am also physically disabled and chronically ill and being disabled has impacted my life so immensely. It is a daily occurrence that I go through. In addition, disabled is not a dirty word. It is okay to say that a disabled person is disabled. They aren’t “differently abled.” I don’t have special abilities, I literally just can’t do some things.

Honestly, I think it’s probably the best idea to just ask someone how they prefer to be talked about and the words they use to describe themselves. Some people prefer person first language to describe them and that’s okay too. Please just talk to disabled people instead of just assuming or talking over us.

Nonspeaking/Nonverbal

I unfortunately see a lot of people using “going nonverbal” to describe intense overstimulation that causes a person not to be able to speak for a period of time. Based on interactions with nonverbal people, this trivializes their experiences. Being nonverbal is a permanent of not being able to talk at all or talking very very little. You cannot become nonverbal for an hour. Your experiences matter but you don’t need to take words from people who need them to describe their struggles and experiences. Nonverbal people have different support needs to speaking people. Like they may need/use an AAC device, use sign language. They also have different struggles. People tend to talk over nonverbal people as if they are not sentient human beings. Their communication attempts can be ignored and they often are put through intense and traumatic ABA therapy to force them to speak and act more “normal” rather than just listening to their other forms of communication.

Alternative terms to use:

• verbal shutdown- inability to speak due to overstimulation

• temporary speech loss episodes- self explanatory

• selective mutism- anxiety disorder where a person cannot speak in specific situations but can speak in others

Is autism a disability?

Short answer, yes.

For most autistic people, it is a disability but for some low support needs people, they don’t consider it to be for themselves. Both views are perfectly fine. However, if you deem it to not be a disability for yourself, please do not determine that for other people. If you were to do that, you’d be wrong. The presence of a disability is generally required in order to receive care that many autistic people require to live their daily life. There are also a significant portion of disabled people in general that cannot access accommodations or support regardless of need. If you do not need support to succeed, you are privileged. You are also not the majority and you need to keep other people with higher support needs in mind when you make blanket statements. Or better yet, don’t make blanket statements at all.

High/Low functioning labels

These are not accurate ways to describe autistic people. The correct terms would be high/low support needs. Functioning labels are harmful to low support needs folks because we are unable to access support we need and they’re harmful to high support needs folks because their thoughts are disregarded with the assumption they don’t have important insights and experiences.

Asperger’s/aspie

I do not support the use of aspie/Aspergers to describe even oneself. The reason being that Hans Asperger was a Nazi. The term was used to determine which autistic people got to live during the Holocaust. Usually, I’m all for people determining which words vibe best with them but this word reeks of supremacy. It’s the same concept as saying you’re “one of the good ones.” I don’t support acting like this in any community. We all have the same disorder and it’s not cool to separate yourself from those you view as lesser, even if that thought is subconscious.

ABA

Applied behavioral analysis therapy is a way that neurotypicals try to force their societal standards onto autistic people, mainly high support needs folks. It is generally regarded to be abusive because their whole philosophy is to “break” a person down and “rebuild” them again in the way the therapist wants them to act. If your thought process surrounding disabled people involves breaking them, you are not safe. Autistic people are whole people and the opinions of allistic (not autistic) people do not matter on that.

Autism Speaks and the puzzle piece/Light it up Blue

A lot of well meaning allistic people donate and support Autism Speaks. I understand the appeal if you are uneducated on the harm they have caused. Their overall goal is to cure autism. A lot of “autism moms” (mothers of autistic children that make their child’s autism their whole personality) say that they hate the autism but love their child. The autism cannot be separated from the autistic person. Autism is a neurotype. It influences the way autistic people interact with and perceive the world around them. An autistic person without their autism would have entirely different experiences and mannerisms. They would be an entirely different person. That’s why autistic activists fight against the search for a cure. My autism does cause immense difficulties in my life but I don’t want to be allistic. I would not be me as an allistic person. If there is a cure, I don’t want it. We should be spending resources helping autistic people in the moment and meeting them where they are instead of trying to change them. Searching for a cure when we are actively in need of support is disrespectful at the very least.

The puzzle piece is incredibly offensive to most autistic people. The whole idea behind it is that autistic people are not whole. That we need our “missing piece” to be whole human beings. That we are somehow lacking. I hope I don’t have to explain why that sucks.

Light it up blue isn’t exactly bad on its own but it comes with the whole of autism speaks. It also symbolizes that autism was a “boy’s disorder” for a very long time.

Awareness and Acceptance

While I believe that autism awareness is important, it can only do so much. Plus, most people already know about autism, and they’re terrified of it. Acceptance is so much more important. You may be aware of autism but unless you accept autistic people with open arms, you are not safe to us. You must accept us as we are and let us breathe in your presence.

Final thoughts and a call in

I am only one autistic person. I do not have all the insight of every autistic person. I tried my best to cover many of the things I believe are important but I definitely couldn’t cover everything. This already took me a week to research and write because I’m disabled and struggle with projects like this. If you have more to share, please reblog with your own experiences and stuff you wish people knew. If I got something wrong, tell me (kindly please). I hope we can work together to make the community and society as a whole safer and more welcoming!