#the summer I turned pretty wallpapers

[prplocks]

♡☆♡ belly wallpaper

reblog if you save ▪︎

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[peachy-ash]

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐢 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲

[multiwriterrx]

Late night designs ❤️

TSITP - Conrad and Belly 👀

[randomperson1234sblog]

Steven Conklin 💛🥥🌻

“Stop flirting with my sister.”

[fangirlingnuisance]

In celebration of TSITP Season 2, here are some free-to-use wallpapers I made! 🫶🏽 --like/reblog if you save or use! <3

[rockaesthetic]

𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝙹𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢

[fandom-addict404]

Anxiety’s One Hell of a Problem

“Oh fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck” Conrad muttered under his breath, shakily. He felt his heart rate beating a mile a minute and his hands shaking profusely has he scrambled to grab his phone from his pocket. However it seemed to keep slipping from his hands.

He finally got his hands to grip hard enough onto his phone where he clicked on Steven’s contact. He held the phone to his ear, the dial tone fading in and out as he felt his body float to and from his body every couple of moments. His hands were shaking and his leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table.

“Conrad? Conrad? Is everything okay?” Steven’s voice echoes, worriedly over the phone. At first Conrad can’t completely hear him but Steven’s mind quickly pieces together what’s happening from the sounds of Conrad’s rapid breathing and panicked muttering from across the line. “Hey, Conrad, man, it’s okay. You’re having—“

“A panic attack, I fucking know!”

“It’s okay, just breathe with me.” Steven instructs, taking a deep breathe as example. “In…and…out. Just like me.”

“I—“

“Don’t talk. Just breathe, man. In…and…out…” Steven guides Conrad with his words, keeping a smooth coaxing tone.

Conrad takes a deep breath—though ragged—still a deep breath in and releases hot air through his slightly quivering lips.

“T-thanks, man. That was uh…really helpful.”

“Yeah, of course. You know I hate hearing from you like this every couple of weeks.”

“Sorry, I just don’t know who else to call.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean—“

“I could always call with a bit more than my ragged breathing and panicked thoughts over the phone.”

“Yeah! I wouldn’t even mind a nice friendly hello and a how are you every now and then. Ya feel me?” Steven smiles and Conrad can feel it, even through his phone’s shitty audio.

There’s an awkward silence for a couple of moments. Steven has so much he wants to say but he can’t have Conrad go back to square one with denied calls and shut off-from-the-rest-of-the-rest-of-the-world mentality.

“So…uh, it’s been getting worse?”

Conrad nods and Steven sighs to himself. He feels this pang of hurt in his stomach. Thinking of his best friend in the whole world (including Jeremiah, of course) going through this—and practically alone he might add.

“I just don’t know what to do. I mean, I’m anxious all the time. Over the stupidest things and sometimes over—her. a lot over her, actually.” he closes his eyes for a moment but when a flash of her appears he quickly snaps back to reality.

“What was this one over? Was it—?”

“No. This one was just stressed about you guys coming for the fourth. There’s a lot to do and my dad’s here and I’m just suffocating in this house, y’know?”

“Yeah. Your dad did tend to do that for you.”

Conrad lets out a dry laugh and takes one last deep breath. I’m gonna..”

“Yeah…” Steven says but quickly grabs the phone with his other hand and says, “Wait. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“Have you ever thought about…”

“Repainting the walls here? I might go a few shades lighter, I don’t know. Would that be bad? Repainting my mom’s walls like that? I don’t know it was just a thought but—“

And just as Conrad started spiraling about wall colors and whatever else that has crossed Conrad’s still slightly frantic mind, Steven interjected and spat out, “Have you ever thought about therapy?”

The call went silent, the only sounds coming from his dad’s bickering with the movers and the construction outside.

“I, uh…fuck, I-I don’t know, man.” Conrad stutters out fidgeting with the drawstrings on his shorts.

“I-I think—“ Steven clears his throat and adjusts his tone to something more assertive. “I think you’d really benefit from it. It’s really no secret you have anxiety and not in the, ‘sometimes I get anxious. It’s whatever’ sort of way and we BOTH know that. it’s in the ‘I’m having panic attacks almost weekly and I’m always overthinking everything’ sort of way.”

“Steven. I don’t—“

“Need to talk to someone about me feelings?”

“I’m—“

“Fine and don’t need some shrink to tell you how you feel?”

“See you get it.” Conrad jokes, his nervousness traveling all the way from Cousins to Philly in the duration of 2 seconds on a phone call.

“Just tell me you’ll think about it, okay?”

“Think about it?”

“Yeah! Think about how you feel about ‘finding your zen’!”

“Are you quoting yourself?”

“I am! it was a very wise thing to say and I think it applies to this situation.”

They finish up the conversation and Conrad hangs up the phone. He closes his eyes and takes a few more deep breaths and puts a smile on his face, almost feeling it. He hates putting on a happy face when he’s not feeling it but right now he’s trying to do the right thing and right now that’s finishing up the house before everyone comes, getting everything together for his mom’s favorite holiday, and resisting the urge to punch his no-good-of-a-father in the face. Easy enough, right?

For the rest of the day, all he could think about was Steven’s comment about therapy. Conrad knows he can get his panic attacks under control. All he has to do it breathe. Easy. Just breathe. We all breathe. In and out, in and out. But then why was it so hard for him all the time? Why was every little thing making him pull his hair out, get a sick feeling to his stomach. He felt on edge all the time. it used to come out in angry bursts but now, he either crumbles and panics or he shuts down and lets these little things ruin his day. What was happening? Was it…anxiety? first off, he hated that word ‘anxiety’. So diagnose-y and real. And second of all, it felt like more. He wasn’t just anxious, he was crumbling, tearing at the seams. Why?

Why fucking him?

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+ [6K] friends with benefits, but oh no! there's feelings. canon adjacent, kind of? smut, summer, car sex.

You heard the rev of the engine just before the headlights flashed over your bedroom window, casting shadows over your sheets, your own silhouette on the wallpaper. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, the sound of the car idling across your street, waiting. 

You did anyway, fingers parting the slats of the blinds as you turned off your television, grabbing a sweater to shove on, feet stuffed into sneakers as the knit fell to just above the hem of your skirt. A few months ago you would’ve rushed to check your reflection in a mirror, sprayed some perfume, dabbed on some gloss, maybe a cherry flavoured balm on your lips. Now, you just grabbed a set of keys from the dish in the hallway before you closed the front door as quietly as you could. You should’ve told your parents, you knew that. Hawkins wasn’t as safe as it used to be, teenagers getting murdered in broad daylight, an Indiana summer scape being used as the scene for some ripped off horror movie plotline. 

But sneaking off into the night with a pretty boy was all part and parcel of being young, wasn’t it?

The BMW was parked under a street lamp opposite your driveway and when he saw you making your way down, the boy got out of his car, greeting you at the passenger side with a kiss that he ducked down to give you eagerly before opening the door. 

It wasn’t always like that. The terms and conditions of this… situation, used to be a lot more strict. There were rules that came with hooking up with the guy from the video store next door. A casual fuck at a party became accidentally more and long gone were the days that you’d been pressed against a wall by someone who was more man than boy now, stubble scratching across your chin and jaw as you kissed him, tongues tasting like tequila, like cherry vodka and cheap beer. 

And you’d had enough sense left in you that night to pull away, gasping, panting, your hands in his hair as his snuck up your shirt, just barely, thumbs pushing nicely into your waist. You’d let your half lidded eyes drag across his pretty features and recognition managed to take over drunken hormones, over want. 

“Hey, you’re the guy that works in Family Video, right?”

And he’d nodded, smiling a little lopsided as his gaze stayed on your lips a second too long, loving the way they were glossy and bitten red by him. “Mhmm,” the boy had said. “Steve. You’re the ice cream girl.”

Not much else was said that night, not when the girl from the ice cream shop liked the way the boy from the video store tasted. You liked the way Steve held you, how he pressed you into a dark corner of someone’s house party, his eyes only on you even when there were so many other girls trying to get his attention. He’d walked you home when the sun was coming up, his sports jacket draped over your shoulders, your shoes in your hands. You’d written your number on his hand with an eyeliner pencil, smudged but there. 

He’d kissed you again when your neighbours sprinklers turned on, when the birds started singing from the cherry trees out back. It was a soft thing, too soft and too gentle not to mean much but when he pulled back, he squinted at you, looking regretful. 

“I, uh, I’m not looking for anything serious right now,” he confessed. Steve looked sad about it. “I don’t wanna lead you on— I just, there’s a lot going on right now, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you understood. So you nodded and shrugged, the boy's jacket moving against your shoulders and you could smell his cologne, the smoke from the party, your own perfume where it now lingered on the collar. 

So you said, “that’s okay. Doesn’t have to be serious, if we don’t want it to be. We can just… I don’t know. Hang out.”

Steve grinned that night, pleased, cheeks a little pink, ‘cause you both knew what hanging out meant. So he nodded too, told you to keep his jacket and that he’d get it back later, told you he’d see you soon and maybe he could take you for a drive or something. 

Casual, no labels, no expectations. No feelings. 

You were pretty certain that was the night you started falling for Steve Harrington. 

—————

You took Steve’s offered kiss with your chin tilted up, trying hard not to smile, failing when he held out a hand for you to hold as you ducked into the car. He shut the door for you, crossed the front of the beemer, lit up by the headlights, his white t-shirt hanging loose around his collarbones, threadbare and worn. His hair wasn’t done like he usually didn’t it, the messy strands falling across his forehead instead of pushed back. It made him look softer, like the Steve you’d grown to know past midnight. 

It had been months since that party. Months of hooking up on lunch breaks, using the staff room of the ice cream parlour to make out in instead of sharing food, rushing to Steve’s parked car to fool around in the back, letting the windows steam up, a sight too salacious for daylight. You didn’t date, Steve didn’t take you out to dinner, or the movies. You didn’t ask him too. Neither of you had met the other's parents, or friends. You knew a lot about Steve’s life, but you weren’t exactly enveloped in it. 

That’s how it was supposed to be. Just sex. Fun. 

But then Hawkins fell to scandal, a murderer on the loose, a boy you once knew from school. Weird goings on, strange sounds from the forest, news crews parked on streets, hoping for the latest story. Steve wasn’t around as much and when you did see him, he was with people you didn’t know as well. Nancy Wheeler, a kid called Dustin, Max Mayfield and another boy from the school basketball team. 

You’d watch across the street as Steve closed up the video store hours too early with Robin Buckley, rushing to his car with his friends in tow like there was some sort of emergency. So lunch hour sex sessions turned into late night drives, when the rest of the town was asleep and every house you passed was lit up by the street lights, by the aquamarine glow of backyard pools. 

Subtle changes happened first. There were still no dates, no talk of feelings. In fact, whatever was stressing Steve seemed to only be fixed by fucking you. He wasn’t rough about it, not mean, nor careless. But there was a different kind of urgency when he parked up somewhere dark and hidden, pushing his lips to yours and sighing hard like he’d been waiting all day to taste you. Eyes closed, forehead pressed to yours as he let you pant into his parted lips, quiet, soft noises mixing with the slap of his hips against yours. And when you were both fully dressed again and he was ready to take you home, he pressed extra kisses to your cheeks, your hand. 

He’d stare at you, longer than he used to, eyes filled with something you weren’t able to place yet and the boy would tell you to promise him you’d be safe. 

Steve would watch you until you made it inside, he’d do that all the time. But now he was in the habit of only pulling away when he saw your bedroom light flick on, your silhouette waving to him from behind the glass. 

After that, Steve took to kissing you more and more, sex not required. A kiss hello, sweet and chaste, a kiss goodbye, longing, meaningful - even if you didn’t know what it was yet. He was touchy, more open, talking to you and opening up when you’d get into his car and see the boy’s tired eyes. He’d tell you it was fine, that it was nothing for you to worry about. But you spotted a bat in the back seat footwell once, an old looking thing with fucking nails poking out the top.  

Steve had turned a little ashen when you stared at him, promising you earnestly that it was only for protection. You know, because of everything that was going on. You weren’t sure what made you believe him so easily, but you did. Night time drives turned into make outs broken up with Steve burrowing his face into your neck as you raked your hands through his hair. You’d watch him grow sluggish, words drowsy as he spoke about how the bad guys aren’t always bad, are they? And should we really believe what the cops on TV are telling us? And wouldn’t all of this just be so much easier if people had superpowers?

You weren’t sure what any of it was supposed to mean, but you’d nodded and dotted your lips over his hairline, letting him lean heavy against you until he scrubbed a hand over his face and coaxed you into his lap, telling you softly that he’d feel a lot fucking better if he got to make you fall apart with his fingers. 

You let him. And you returned the favour too. 

—————

You knew tonight was different by the way Steve was white knuckling the stick shift, antsy as he brought his touch to your bare thigh instead. He rubbed his thumb there, exhaled heavily when you covered his hand with your own. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly. You didn’t dare break the quiet, the one that only came with driving out of town when the sky was inky, when the wheat fields whispered in the breeze and the bus stops stood empty. Hawkins was asleep, but there was something that Summer that made the town feel less than peaceful. Maybe it was the ‘wanted’ posters on every street light. Eddie Munson’s face staring back at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine.” He glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road for a second or two. He looked heavy, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Atlas, the man with the earth on his back, cast in marble, ready to crumble. “Just a little stressed ‘bout stuff, that’s all.” 

It was the same answer he always gave. You assumed it was his parents - his dad and his relentless tenacity about his job, his future. Maybe it was Keith, giving him a hard time about shifts. Maybe he had a friend in trouble. You were ready to ask, to pry a little deeper when the boy said:

“You’re not, uh—  you don’t get headaches, do you? Like bad ones.”

You squinted at him, confused. You watched the streetlights run over his features, casting the boy in a white-yellow glow before they stopped completely, signalling you’d reached the edge of town. The water tower passed you both by, only fields, the road and stars for company now. 

“Um, no more than anyone else who works with sugar loaded ice cream and six year old customers all day,” you joked. “Why?”

Steve didn’t laugh, shit, he didn’t even smile. He looked as serious as before and he ignored your question in favour of asking his own. His hand squeezed at your knee, affectionate, his thumb running circles into the inside of your leg before he had to let go to shift gears. “You don’t have nightmares, do you?”

You were really confused now. You leaned back against the door, watching as empty farm pastures blurred past Steve’s face. His lips were pressed right, concern in every part of his face, drawn in there like it was permanent. He looked tired, scared. Your throat drew tight. “Steve, is something wrong?”

“You’d tell me, right?” Steve was slowing the car down, pulling into an empty gas station lot that sat on an desolate road a few miles out of town. The place hasn’t been used in years, the pumps empty, the shutters on the windows covered in graffiti. But the neon sign above the roof still flickered, bathing you both in red and purple lights. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you? If you felt like…” Steve swallowed harshly searching for the right words. “If you didn’t feel safe?”

You unclipped your belt to lean forward, your hand resting on Steve’s thigh. Your brow was furrowed in concern, a worry knotting in your chest because you’d never seen the boy this serious. “Steve, what?” You watched as the boy exhaled again, a heavy, shaking thing and he looked at you with the most tender eyes. “Hey, hey, Steve, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Steve swallowed, throat bobbing hardly and his face crumpled, frustration and worry easily read. He was scarlet lights and inky shadows, neon purple bathing the dashboard as rain started to fall on the windscreen. Light drops of it, dotting here and there until it got heavier and heavier, a dull roar against the car roof. Water droplets slid down the windows, racing each other and Steve tried to find the words. 

He couldn’t. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t really explain. Not right now,” Steve dragged a hand through his already messy and he truly did look apologetic. He looked so tired. “Just, please, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right? If you needed help with something, or, or, someone to talk to? You’d come to me, wouldn’t you? You know you can talk to me? About anything? This— this isn’t all sex, I know, fuck, I know it was supposed to be but, shit, we care about each other right? I, I care about you— ”

You nodded, eyes wide, moving as close as could over the middle console, the parking brake digging into your tummy so you could clasp his cheeks between your hands. You soothed your thumbs over the slight stubble there, eyes searching his, wondering if you’d find any answers there. You didn’t. So instead you kept nodding, hoping the boy would believe you. 

“I’d tell you, Steve. I’d come to you, it’s okay. I’m fine, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about, not with me, okay?” Your voice was urgent, hushed, a frantic whisper almost drowned out by the rain. 

But your words seemed to soothe the boy and he visibly relaxed, face leaning into your touch. “So, no nightmares?” He asked again. 

“No nightmares,” you promised him and he turned his face into your palm, kissing the skin there, the way a boyfriend would. It made your stomach flip, an undeniably tender gesture. “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded, eyes closing briefly to gather himself and the lights made the shadows under his lashes turn a deep ruby red. The rain splashed the hood of the car, puddles in the forecourt, purple lights reflecting back like an oil spill. “Yeah. I’m sorry, fuck, it’s just— I wish I could tell you.” Steve let his head fall back onto the seat when you moved your hands. “You must think I’m insane, right?”

You smiled wryly, bringing your feet up to rest on the dash, a move he would’ve told you off - semi jokingly - a few weeks ago for. “No more than I did when I first met you.” Your skirt gathered at your thighs with the move, pooling in the cradle there, cheap silk, lilac and more suited for a trip to the mall rather than a rainy night. But Steve tracked the movement, gaze dropping to the bare skin it uncovered before his eyes found your own again. “And for the record, Harrington, I care about you too.”

It seemed to break something in the boy, those earnest words, real enough to shatter, to make someone crumble in the best way. He punched out the breath he’d been holding and he leant his cheek against the headrest, eyes on you, amazingly soft. “I just wanna keep you safe,” he whispered and the statement made your heart ache. 

This wasn’t part of the agreement. This wasn’t even in the rule book. 

“I am safe,” you whispered back, brow still wrinkled in confusion. “Is this about Eddie Munson? The police are looking for him, Steve, they’ll find him soon—”

“Somethin’ like that,” Steve tried to smile but it was thin and tight lipped. “I didn’t mean to worry you, m’sorry.”

You smiled, still confused but eager to bring the boy out of his strange mood. You wanted to help, you wanted to comfort. “It’s okay,” you told him, soothing a hand over his thigh again. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout little, old me.”

Something in Steve’s expression told you maybe all he really did was worry about you. But he didn’t say anything more about it, not then. He just slid his hand over your own, let his fingers wrap around your wrist and climb up your forearm, tugging gently. “Hey, c’mere,” he whispered and you knew that look, you knew that tone of voice. 

Wanting, needy. Desperation coloured it this time, something new. 

He’d normally meet you in the backseat, lips crashing in the middle, a faux argument about who was on top that time. But instead, Steve just coaxed you onto his lap, sliding his chair back from the wheel to make room for you, your legs spread in either side of his hips. He seemed greedy for you, wide palms sneaking under your sweater immediately, the stitch between his brows softening once he got his hands on you. 

“Wanna touch you,” the boy sighed and he sounded far away, voice dreamlike now you were closer, like his worries had been eased. “Can I? Wanna make you feel good, think ‘bout it all the time,” he confessed, leaning in until his forehead was pressed to yours, his chin tilted up to meet you, noses bumping. 

You nodded, eyes falling shut because all you wanted to do was feel. It was easy with Steve, easy to close off the rest of the world and put all your trust in him. The cocoon of his car felt safe, warm and smelling like leather and his cologne, the hazy light filtering through the rain on the windshield, a kaleidoscope of crimson and violet. 

“Yeah, please,” you nodded and your voice sounded so much softer and smaller than before, like you were giving into it, like you were begging him. 

Maybe you were. 

His hands found the hem of your sweater at the same time yours found his, but you tugged at his cotton shirt with more insistence. You watched his face falter, like he was remembering something. You frowned, fingertips searching under the material for the familiar feel of his warm skin, the trail of hair that led down his navel and into the band of his underwear. Your brow wrinkled deeper when you found something scratchy, a crinkled band that seemed to wrap around him. He flinched when you pressed your palm to it. 

“Steve— what—?”

“Babe,” Steve tried to placate you with sweetness, his eyes worried, his hands holding your waist and pulling you closer. “Jus’ leave it on, yeah? It’s—”

“Are you hurt?” 

You couldn’t help it, worry and panic taking over and you hated that you didn’t listen to the boy but you were tugging up the hem of his top before he could protest. A bandage was wound around his torso, crisscrossing at his stomach, climbing up to the bottom of his ribs. There was a dark shadow under the right side, like there was a bruise hiding there, or worse. 

Suddenly, all the talk of keeping you safe seemed laughable. Your eyes watered at the sight of him, the skin that peeked out from the edges of the wrap a little mottled, an angry red mixing with green and yellow. “What happened?” You sounded distraught and the watery concern Steve that could hear was thick in your throat and it made him fucking ache. 

“Nothing,” he tried to lie, but he sounded tired, like all he did was avoid the truth. “I’m okay, I swear. I promise you. I just, I just took a bad fall. Bruised my ribs, caught myself on somethin’ sharp, or  whatever, but I’m good.”

You didn’t believe him. Your heart was telling you not to. But Steve Harrington was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was too exhausted to argue. You stared at him, saw how he pleaded with you, silent, hopeless.  

Your hands found his jaw, thumbs smoothing over the apples of his cheeks and held him like he was precious. He was. So much more than some guy you found in the dark corners of a stranger’s house party. Who would’ve thought?

“Are you in trouble?” Your voice wobbled. You felt helpless. You were trying to tamp down the ugly thoughts in your head, wondering about all the worst case scenarios, thinking about the kinds of people who could do this to someone. You wondered if your dad could help, if he’d give you some cash if that’s what Steve needed, the spare room, a way out— “can I help? What can I do to help?”

“No, no,” Steve answered with a new sense of urgency, eyes wide. “No, listen, you’re staying far away from it all, okay?”

The fact Steve didn’t deny that there was something to fear, that there was something he was caught up in - something he wasn’t telling you - made your worry spike even more. “Steve, what the fuck is go—” 

You were cut off by a kiss. A crushing thing, all consuming and it swallowed your words, your worries, your tears. Steve was warm all over, his lips just as hot, soft and plush and always tasting like mint chapstick. He chased your mouth as you went to pull away, an argument still on your tongue but he kissed you until you turned pliant, hands falling from where they’d been planted on his chest to winding around his neck. You made a soft noise of defeat when his tongue licked over the seam of your lips, your mouth opening for him, the kiss turning deeper. You took in the sound of Steve’s shaky gasps, the way his hands mapped out the curve of your back, the dip of your waist. 

Steve kissed you until you both couldn’t breathe. 

You pulled away panting, eyes heavier and half lidded than before and Steve’s were no better. He was trying to coax you back, his fingers on your chin but you were reminded about what lay under his shirt and your features were crumpling with concern again. 

“M’gonna hurt you, I’m too heavy,” you whispered, aghast, shifting onto your knees awkwardly as if you suddenly just realised you were sitting on his lap. “Steve.”

“No, hey,” Steve protested, squeezing at your waist until you sat back on his lap. He whispered your name, serious. “You’re not hurting— Jesus, stay please? I’m fine, okay? Please. Babe, please, just…” he looked up at you, words trailing off and lingering in the small space that was between you both, floating in the red-purple light. 

It was still raining. 

“What do you need?” You asked him and you tried not to let your eyes turn glassy but the boy underneath you was gazing at you like you were the first one to ask him such a question in years. “What can I do to help, Steve, huh? I’ll do it, okay?”

“Need you,” Steve managed to choke out and he looked lost, he looked desperate but his eyes were hungry and falling to your lips and god, god, his hands were trailing up the sides of your ribs and he was groaning softly when he found you’d left your bra at home. “I swear to god, I promise, I just need you.”

It made it easy to fall into him, lips pressed to his as you tried to hold yourself off of the boy, just slightly, enough to hopefully not cause the boy any pain. But Steve was having none of it, sighing against your mouth and tugging you forward, his hands gripping your hips, sliding underneath your sweater and along the waistband of your skirt. He groaned, a sound you knew well, his lips chasing yours as he kept you pressed down in his lap, the cotton of your underwear pushed to the denim of his jeans. You kissed him back, pliant before turning eager, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you resisted the urge to roll your hips over him. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you whispered again and you sounded scared, worried. “Steve.”

“Shhh,” Steve soothed you with a hand on your jaw, tugging you back, keeping you grounded against his. His thumb was pushing to your cheek, trailing down to catch over your lip, his mouth ghosting over yours. Your noses knocked, breaths mixing. “S’okay, m’fine, yeah? You’re fine, babe.”

Steve watched through hooded eyes as he coaxed you into moving, a gentle back and forth of your hips over his and he smiled, nodding when you let out a soft noise, forehead falling to rest against his own. “There you go, there she is,” Steve whispered and it felt fond, it felt familiar, the way he spoke, the way he held you. 

It didn’t feel like something friends did, not even friends with certain benefits. Not anymore. Not with the way he was looking at you. 

“I just need to, fuck,” Steve let his head fall back onto the chair, chin tilted up to watch your face, the scrunch of your nose when something made you feel good. He was blue in the shadows, navy, inky. Scarlet skin, red cheeks, purple lights making him ultraviolet. “I just need to feel you, I’ve not stopped thinkin’ about it all day, I swear. Is that crazy?”

You shook your head, lips parting as you let out a heavy breath, the kick up of Steve’s cock in his jeans hitting your clit just right. You kept rolling your hips, slow, even strokes over him. “No, s’not crazy,” you let out a quiet whine, chasing Steve’s touch as he gripped your hips a little tighter. “Think ‘bout you too.”

“Just wanna— wanna switch off sometimes, you know?” Steve groaned when you reached for the button of his jeans, wrapping an around your waist as he lifted his hips and helped you tug the denim down one handed. “Bein’ with you, it helps. It helps so much. I just wanna get lost in you— baby—”

Steve cut himself off with a groan, eyes clenched shut and the term of endearment falling from his lips too easily. You’d ached as he spoke, staring at his soft eyes, the tiredness around them, busying yourself with freeing his cock from from his boxers until you knelt up a little and pulled your own underwear to the side. 

You were already wet from his kisses, the way he’d helped your rock your hips over his, but god. God, Steve was a stretch. The boy would normally work at you before hand, legs spread for him in the backseat so he could fit two fingers inside, his tongue and mouth helping ease you, melt you. Then he’d give you inch by inch, jaw unhinged and eyes dark as he talked you through it, telling you how good you were at taking his cock. 

Desperation won over this time, though. It took a little squirming, a wriggle of your hips and a sharp gasp until he was fully seated inside of you and there was always a dull burn as you did. It was worth it though, to feel so suddenly full, to watch the way Steve’s brain seemed to glitch at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. He moaned, brows scrunched together as he pressed his fingertips into your hips so hard you were sure he’d leave a lavender coloured map of touches behind.  

“Shit, shit,” the boy gasped out and he clung to you as you did him, pulling you into his chest so he could wrap both arms around you, big hands spanning across you back. “Baby, fuck, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You felt breathless at the sensation, stuffed full, your nose pressed to Steve’s neck as he surrounded you, as he held you. You shifted, just slightly, adjusting as he throbbed inside of your cunt and Steve hissed sharply through his teeth. 

“You’re gonna make me fuckin’ come, ohmygod.”

You laughed, softly, not at all mean and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling closer as you stayed still, just for a minute. “Easy, cowboy,” you murmured. Steve’s hands moved to your ass cheeks, grabbing them, kneading them. “You okay?”

He nodded and you pulled back enough to see the way his cheeks flushed pink, lips parted and eyes flutter closed. The boy sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you just feel so fucking good. You’re so warm,” he marvelled. 

It was getting harder and harder to stay still, your cunt clenching around Steve’s cock, making you both gasp, soft noises falling from each of your mouths and it was anyone other than Steve, you would’ve seen embarrassed at the wetness gathering at the base of his cock, coating the insides of your thighs. “Can I move?” You asked him, whispering. 

Steve nodded, too blissed out already, his pretty brown eyes getting that far away look to them. Hazy, fuzzy, dreamlike. He seemed less tired now, less stressed, less tense. So you lifted yourself up gently before settling back down on him, the tip of his cock nudging deep inside of you and it made you cry out, a strangled sound that Steve stole with a kiss. He kissed you through it all, hands everywhere at once, roaming over you, sneaking under skirts and sweaters to slide over your bare skin, like he was making sure you were real. 

There was a neediness to it all that surpassed hormones and urges. 

So you let him, kissed him back with just as much fervour as you rode him, hips moving slow and gentle, the pressure building between you both, filling the air in the car, filling the cracks between your ribs and it made you spin, it made you dizzy. You kissed Steve until he didn’t look so blue anymore, and when you pulled back, letting him mourn at your neck, your jaw, your chin, the rain had stopped and the purple light above the gas station was flickering. 

“Steve,” you sighed, your voice cracking, watery. 

“I know,” the boy mumbled back and he sounded the same. 

You were staring into his eyes when you came. One hand pressed between your sticky thighs as you pushed mean fingers to your clit, the other in Steve’s hair, holding him to you, anchoring yourself. Steve swore as he felt you tighten around him, pussy fluttering as you came, movements turning a little messy and unbalanced but the boy gripped you under the ass and helped you move through it all, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on your skin. 

“M’close,” Steve groaned, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the heat from his cheeks, the softness of his hair against your throat. “Fuck, babe, I’m so goddamn close, where—?”

You doubled down on your efforts despite your shaky thighs, despite how sensitive you were. You rocked over him, pace quickening, wanting nothing more than to make Steve fall apart. You heard him gasp, lips parting against your neck, heavy breaths falling over your skin. You held him to you, let him bury himself there, helped him hide until he could piece himself back together again. 

“Inside,” you told him and your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore. You sounded wrecked, wild, desperate. It’s not something you and Steve did often, in fact, you’d only done it once before and you’d both been too tipsy to really remember it. But you were on the pill and Steve trusted you as much as you trusted him. “Wanna feel it, Steve, please, inside—”

“Oh, fuck!” Steve gasped as he came, hips bucking up into you with a little less rhythm than before  and he abandoned his grip on your ass to wrap his arms around you again, pulling you in, crushing you to his chest. He held you, pumping you full, cock twitching as he cried out, the sound muffled against your cheek. He whispered your name, a prayer. “Fuck, fuck. Baby.”

You could feel how hard his heart was beating, your cheek pressed to his chest as the rain started back up, heavy drops on the car roof, more lines trailing down the steamed up windows. You could hear Steve’s soft pants in between, his breath huffing over your hairline. You felt the boy skin his lips over the same spot, his nose pressed to your forehead. 

“You okay?” He whispered and you nodded, pulling back enough to look at him. 

He looked so much softer than before, the harsh lines gone, tension released. Steve ran a hand over your cheek and you leaned into it, kissing his palm. “I should be asking you that.” You brushed a gentle hand over his side, where you knew his bruise lay under his shirt. “Did I hurt you?”

“Quite the opposite,” Steve laughed, soft, quiet. The rain was growing louder, heavier. He was still inside you, heavy, warm, big. It was a comfort you didn’t want to read too much into. “Feel cured,” he joked. 

You huffed out a breath of a laugh, smiling, cheeks warm and you winced as you shifted up on your knees and Steve made a soft noise, cooing at you as he held your waist and helped you move. You bit your lip as you moved your stretched out underwear back into place, your body burned at the feel of Steve’s come slipping from between your folds, warm, wet. 

“I don’t even have anything to help clean you up,” Steve murmured apologetically, but he would’ve been lying if the idea of you going home full of him didn’t make his dick twitch again. 

“S’okay,” you told him and when you made to move off Steve’s lap, the boy gripped your thighs. 

You looked at him, brows raised, because this was normally the part of the night where you fell back into the passenger seat, satisfied and a little numb, laughing over a stupid joke Steve cracked before he drove you home and kissed you goodnight. “Stay,” he asked, whispering. You watched him swallow roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can you just—? Stay here for a bit, yeah?”

You softened, eyebrows scrunching as you took on the emotion on Steve’s face, the shyness there, the hope. You nodded, settling gently back onto Steve’s lap and you reached out, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, using the gesture as an excuse to let your fingers trail over his cheekbone. Steve turned, catching your knuckles with his lips, a fleeting kiss. 

Then he sucked in a breath and seemed to ready himself, his hands on your hips again, sneaking under the fabric of your sweater so he could rub circles into your skin with his thumbs. 

“So, it all started with this girl…”

[artdcnaldson]

sex lessons au is the only thing that’s been on my mind i literally cannot think of anything else.. virgin!reader my beloved..

them finding your vibrator and asking you to show them how it works……… they totally didn’t plan this at all knowing you had one. if it was the summer before stanford… art was digging through the dresser in your room looking for something (totally not your panties!!! or that tiny bikini you wore yesterday!!!) when he found it. or. or!!! they heard it… from down the hall. just a slight buzzing noise they wanted to go investigate which ended with them camped out in front of your door and you being none the wiser..

GODDDD it’s like you live in my brain <3 Pre Stanford prequel is sooooo yummy <3 I can’t decide which I like better so fuck it, combo value meal

But, sigh <3, Art being a total fucking pervert my beloved. The whole summer you’ve just been so fucking confused because why do your panties keep getting lost in the wash? Totally not because Art steals them from your hamper, cums with them wrapped around his dick, and feels so guilty that he throws them away entirely. Anyways… back to the topic at hand. Patrick catches him in the act of rooting around your room, just stands there completely silently in the doorway until Art finds a cute white pair of panties, goes to tuck them into his pocket. He clears his throat, nearly gives Art a coronary.

“Jesus christ, you’re clinical,” Patrick mutters, but he’s grinning ear to ear. “Why don’t you just look for her diary or something?”

Art glances out the window, towards the backyard and the pool you’re currently swimming in with Patrick’s younger sister. Far enough away that it still feels safe to snoop, to be a nosy, perv.

Patrick lifts up the mattress, looks through your dresser drawers, all leading up to the moment he pulls open the nightstand and finds what he’s been looking for. Art’s cheeks burn an embarrassing shade of pink as Patrick holds it up. It’s a cheap wand vibrator— probably from the Spencer’s at the mall— pink and bedazzled around the handle. Patrick presses the button and it buzzes to life in his hand.

“Jesus, turn it off,” Art says quickly, glancing around like you might materialize out of thin air and catch them. Patrick rolls his eyes, but obeys. “Do you think she… uses it.”

Patrick makes a face, almost annoyed. “No, it’s fucking decoration, dipshit.” Patrick swallows, presses his tongue to his cheek while he thinks. “We should come back tonight, see if we can hear her use it.” He expects Art to argue, shake his head and say that’s fucking weird and invasive. But Art just swallows hard and nods.

So they wait until after dark, when everyone else is asleep. Patrick brings his gameboy to occupy himself, Art pretends to be interested in the corners of the wall where the wallpaper is peeling. His watch reads 11:45 when he hears your blankets start to rustle. He and Patrick press their ears to the door, so close that they’re sharing breaths.

They hear you gasp and sigh, shifting a bit, and let their mind fill in the blanks. You’re in bed, with your hand between your thighs to start, getting yourself worked up. It isn’t long before he hears you swear under your breath and rattle the nightstand drawer in your haste. Click, and buzz.

You moan softly, sounding sweet and pretty. It doesn’t feel fair that they’re on the other side of the door, that they can’t know what you’re imagining, what you’re thinking of. Or who. They’re practically holding their breaths until you cum, with a shaky moan that you have to muffle behind your hand. They hear you click off the vibrator, slide the drawer closed, and roll over in bed with a sigh.

They hurry back to their shared room, faces flushed, buzzing with the pervy adrenaline of being halfway successful voyeurs. Patrick pins Art down on his bed, slotting his body against his. Art groans, cants his hips up, seeking friction. “Do you think she was thinking about us?” Art pants as Patrick works their boxers down grips both of their hard cocks in one hand, pumping them in tandem.

Patrick nods, moans into the junction of Art’s throat. Art fumbles for something under his pillow, retrieves the fucking panties he’d stolen earlier that day. Patrick laughs weakly as Art sucks them into his mouth, tongue laving over the gusset that had previously nestled against your pussy.

“Jesus, Art,” he groans, already close. Art moans, muffled behind the cotton, and cums the second Patrick’s thumb brushes over the head of his dick. Patrick jerks them both through it and finishes messy and warm over Art’s softening cock.

He collapses boneless on top of the blonde, who slaps at Patrick’s shoulders until he relents and slides off of him.

The next morning, you’re all eating breakfast like nothing happened at all. You, none the wiser, them, perfect little liars talking about how they went to bed early for once. They figure they’ll try their hand at camping outside your door that night too, just in case.

[roach-works]

Gallery Jamboree 2023

so we all agree that art is no longer being circulated on tumblr the way it used to be, and that The Youths no longer know how to reblog shit because they’re from insta-tok or whatever, and that subject-specific tags are turning into a unusable slog because so much shit gets inappropriate hashtags. and that shit is getting pretty dire.

[image id: a hand almost buried in crumpled paper, holding a sign that says “help”]

i’ve been thinking about it and i have a proposal:

WE NEED MORE GALLERY SPACES.

[image id: a fancy art gallery with red brocade wallpaper, gold picture frames, and beautiful oil paintings]

who benefits from galleries? artists benefit because their work is shown in a space that’s already attended by an expectant audience. the audience benefits because they can follow a space with the expectation of being served the curated content they want to see. and crucially, people who want to participate in creative work without having to make it themselves can become the curators who help connect artists with audiences.

[image id: a mule-drawn tour bus about to set out on an educational ride]

i propose this summer, with school letting out and a lot of bored young people ready to particpate in fandoms and other hobbies, that we start a push to make more fanblogs with the explicit, understood purpose of serving the community more gallery spaces. artists will get more exposure and fans will get to see more art.

[image id: a wall mural featuring a large hand pulling back a blank curtain to reveal a dense and complex design of overlapping words and tags. a sunbeam illuminates a bright triangle of wall that reads “hey”]

being a curator is a really fun and really valuable way to engage with your community, whether that’s the fans of a show, hobby, game, science, genre. it really can’t be overstated how cool it is to be one of the guys who find and reblog artists with limited reach and thus introduce them to a wider audience that will be happy to see something great.

THIS SUMMER, START A GALLERY SIDEBLOG AND SEE HOW IT GOES. TELL YOUR FRIENDS TO START GALLERIES. ADVERTISE IT IN THE TAGS. ADVERTISE YOUR FRIENDS. PUT OUT CALLS FOR WORK. RUN IT FOR A WEEK OR A SEASON OR TEN YEARS. FOLLOW OTHER GALLERIES. LET’S SEE IF WE CAN MAKE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL.

#GALLERY23

[12-seconds-to-live]

Laniel.jpg and Charlotte

Pairing: DR3 x LN4 x F1 female driver

Warnings: none, just my happiness with Daniel and Lando

NICE AIRPORT - TERMINAL 1 @15:20

"You look cute today" I stop looking to my phone to look at Lando. Well, that's new

"You say it like it's weird of me using a dress"

"It is" He smiled

"I'm gonna ignore you from now on"

"It's not common, even when we go to parties you use jeans, so, I have a point"

"The real point here is that we are in the middle of the summer and if I put a raw egg on the floor it will cook"

"But what about the jet? It's going to be cold in there"

"I have my enchanté sweater" Lando made a loud gasp "It has cute peaches and it's purple"

"I sent you a full box of my merch last month, mean"

"Cry about it, Daniel thinks that I have a pretty face so everybody is going to see me in the new enchanté collection"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I asked him months ago, even I helped with the design of one of the pieces"

"Well, congratulations. You should look who's coming" I turn my head and a very smiley Daniel Ricciardo was walking to our direction

"You knew?"

"I invited him to flight with us, I know how important you were for him these moths away from racing so I..." I interrupted him with a hug and a kiss in the cheek

"You're the best, Norris" Lando didn't expect that reaction, now he can feel his cheeks burning

I got up and run to Daniel. After Silverstone, I decided to wait for Danny's test with Pirelli. After he finished a call from Helmut Marko was all we need to know that he got the seat for the rest of the season. Even if I have a good relationship with the australian, I organized a few days off with Lando, Max, Nyck, some frineds and myself to let Nyck know that we're his friends and friends support each other.

"It's been only a week, you know?" He said laughing

"I don't care, I'm happy. These past 7 months had been like going on a rollercoaster over and over again so, you know. Even if it's AlphaTauri, you have your way back home, you never left, you just have to travel the world over in search of what you need and then return to find it"

"I know Char and thank you for everything" His eyes got glossy so I hug him "Do you like my design?" He said ponting to his sweater

"No, it is..." I gasp

"Yes, kiddo. Tommorrow a million boys are going to see you wearing the new collection"

"Ha ha, funny, you know that I have my eyes on someone"

"Someone a bit brainless. Hey Lando, I guess you were waiting for me"

"Yeah, let's go"

Once in the airplane

"I have to say that this is a very important moment and pretty faces like yours should be able to broke the internet" I said taking Lando's camera and pinting to them "New wallpapers for your fans"

They looked at each other and start with their goofiness and well... I guess they really missed each other. Maybe Carlos and I have competition.

"We are pretty good looking guys, you know?" Daniel said with a smile on his face

"Even you could use us as your wallpaper" said Lando

"Good offer but nothing can beat my photo with Tom Holland" I said with a side smile and ready to take a nap before we arrive in Budapest

"When are you gonna tell her how you feel?" asked Daniel looking at Lando

"I don't know what are you talking about" he answer looking at the mirror

"Kids, always scared of love"

DRIVE TO SURVIVE EP.4 S.6 NICE GUYS ALWAYS COME BACK

"Hello Charlotte"

"Hi Netflix, can I have some tea? I been walking around doing interviews and stuff and I couldn't finish my lunch"

"Sure, mint?"

"Yes, please" I smile to the interviewer "We can't start, I'll wait for the tea"

"Ok, what were you doing when the news drop?"

"Oh, ha ha, I was with the main character. I can do anything, even work as emotional supporter, PR, car mechanic, you know" one member of the staff approached me with the cup of tea "Thank you"

"How do you feel about this?"

I made a pause thinking and trying not to burn my lips "I think that this a great moment to tell you what happen after Abu Dabi. Well, I sign my contract with McLaren, I was feeling bad about the decision, just for Danny and I spent the night with him and his girlfriend just talking and at some point we got more serious and I just told him and without knowing about Red Bull: What is a home if not the first place you learn yo run from?"

I smiled to the camera "Then he told me about the third driver offer and I felt different, by the time he leave in 2018 I guess that he felt that he was destroying everything and he just needed to slip quietly to the back door without causing to much noise and then not stop running. And maybe that was he needed more than what he really wanted, let go the feeling of wanted to go back and remember what you once had and what you once where "

"But then I told him that it's funny that the feeling of leave home and being far away make us wander our choices but for Danny is something else. He's back home and ready to no longer remember which tale of his past is true and which is an invention. Outside he's the same on the inside he's the same kid that leave Australia looking for a dream"

"I guess he's your favourite person between the drivers" asked the producer

"No, Daniel is my brother and I know he feels the same about me"

📍Budapest

Liked by charlotterjones, daniel3.jpg and 943.501 others

landonorris We’re photographers. We’re back.

📸: @charlotterjones

user1 ARE YOU KIDDING ME. STOP THIS CUTENESS

f1mia need a landan.jpg account plz

charlotterjones This is a piece of art ❤️

landonorris including the photographer danielricciardo our favourite girl

user2 "dude we’re getting the band back together״

user3 we missed daniel button --->

I got inspired! This little story is linked with my current story called (Un)Lost

Hope you like it!

Taglist: @evans-dejong @omgsuperstarg @bibissparkles @hoely-maria @mochimommy2002 @noope306 @eugene-emt-roe @80sloverry @rens-daylight @summerslike11 @matildrry

[prplocks]

✧❁ wallpaper 〴 lola tung ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

reblog if you save ➳

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

[peachy-ash]

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐢 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲

[brackishkittie]

crazy in love, dina woodward

— dina woodward x black!reader

synopsis: dina as a gf whose literally infatuated with you.

c/n: pretty suggestive, but mostly just fluff!

a/n: was so excited to finally write smth for my bby dina I love her sm!!!

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who loves physical touch and quality time. she loves just laying next to you and admiring all of the features on your face while caressing your face with a big smile on hers.

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who helps you get ready when you guys are going out anywhere, like on a date.

“baby can you help me please?” you ask her while struggling to put on your earrings because you two were kinda late. “was waiting for you to ask me.” she giggles and quickly helps you put your earrings on. “you look beautiful..” she says as she stares at you through the vanity mirror, she adores her gf so much.

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who lovessssss kissing you to wake you up, kissing you before bed, and kissing you even when you’re wide awake and focused on something.

“are you done yettttt?..” she whines, she’s been trying to get your attention for awhile but you were too busy doing whatever you were doing. “almost done baby..just give me like five more minutes.” you say to her but she no longer wanted to wait and just started kissing all over your face which made you two erupt into laughter. “hey stop! that tickles! diiii get off of meeee!!!” “try to stop me then!”

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who loves playing with your hair. she loves playing with your braids, your twists, locs, etc. she oils your scalp for you and even learned how to do cornrows for you anytime you felt like wearing a wig. she’s always ready and willing to do something for her girl.

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who rewatches your story every single time you post yourself. she just be cheesin at her damn phone, watchin her gf look good. ( she don’t even care abt the music startin over, it doesn’t even bother her. all she cares about is her beautiful gf on the screen. )

“dina it’s been ten minutes take ts off now.” “ok fine one more time…OUUUUU look at my baby! I gotta watch it again just hold on.” “DINAAAAAA!!”

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who sets you as her lock and home screen wallpaper so EVERYBODY and I mean EVERYBODYYYYY knows that you’re her girl and if they don’t get it by then, then they’ll be sure to know by the way she CONSTANTLY brings you up in every single conversation she has with anybody even if it has nothing to do with what they’re talking about.

“so I’ve been deciding on whether I should surprise my-” “omg my girlfriend loves surprises!” “???..what?..”

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who loves baking and cooking with you. you guys made cinnamon rolls one time and all you two cared about was just the smell of cinnamon and love in the air. the faint noise of summer walker playing in the back from the tv and you two laughing.

“yk what this icing reminds me of baby?” “dina you are absolutely insane…” “OH COME ON!” “YOU ARE A NASTY NASTYYYY WOMAN DINA.” “you love me though.” “shut up.”

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who gets jealous when she feels as if someone is gettin a little bit too friendly with you…if they compliment you on your hair in a way she thinks was flirting, she’ll take matters into her own hands and start mean muggin them, palming your ass, grabbin your waist..she would do anything to make it known that you were hers.

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who I personally believe is a switch, she loves taking control most of the time but when you’re in control? GODDDDDD THAT WOMAN TURNS FERAL. she turns into putty in your hands, like she’s literally in love with you. you can just touch her in the slightest and she’ll already have goosebumps trailing up her skin.

☆ﾟ— gf!dina who has you as her gorgeous passenger princess. she keeps her hand rested on your thigh or when at a red light, takes it as a chance to just admire you and take in your beautiful features once again. ( sometimes she doesn’t even realize the light is green and snaps out of it once she hears the loud honk of another driver behind you two. 😭😭 )

tags: @mariefilms @machetegirl109 🫧

[randomperson1234sblog]

[selfindulgentpixies]

The hands that hold you ch8: Learning to trust

Satosugu x gn!reader

Ahhhh I'm so sorry this took so long. Health struggles slowed my ass way down and I had to figure out how to stitch this chapter together. chapters 8-10 will likely be snippets of events between hidden inventory and premature death. I actually have so many things i would like to put in but it's hard figuring out what's relevant enough and maintains a good flow for the story. I really want to include the exchange event next chapter so let me know if that's a thing you guys want to see.

Master list

____

It’s the previous week and Satoru and Suguru are preparing for their day while you’re asleep in your own room for the first time since your recovery began instead of one of their rooms or the infirmary. Neither is particularly thrilled to get back to ‘business as usual’ as it were but with it being summer a pair of sorcerers as strong as them couldn’t  be spared for long. Truthfully they’d much rather stay at your side for your recovery. On the second day you’d spent in bed with them watching movies they’d caught you stretching and saw how your whole torso was essentially one massive bruise. It was only a glance considering how you’d aborted the movement out of pain and had immediately brushed off any worry they’d expressed. The injuries may have been mostly healed by Shoko but the blood beneath the skin still needed to break down along with her mainly only healing the life threatening parts of your injuries. 

 Suguru rests his chin on Satoru’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his slim waist to watch him type away at his phone. He was leaving you a text explaining that they’d both be out today for missions. “Don’t want them to worry,” he says even though an explanation isn’t really needed. Suguru makes a small sound of agreement. They both already knew you had a tendency to worry. Satoru closes out of his conversation with you, putting him back on his phone’s main screen. 

Suguru’s lips quirk into a small smile seeing Satoru had a new wallpaper even if it also made his chest tighten. It’s you blanketed in the red hoodie Satoru had bought for the trip to the beach, curled up and sleeping with rice flour lightly smudged on your cheek from the mochi you and Satoru had shared that night when things were still okay. “Do they even know you took that picture?” 

“Not a clue since they don’t get nosy when I’m on my phone unlike you,” he says teasingly. He holds the phone so Suguru can get a better look at the picture of you. 

“I’m surprised this is the picture you picked, all things considered.”

“I know..” he sighs. “That night is still a good memory though. It was the first time I thought ‘oh, they might actually like me too.’ they looked at me how they looked at you all the time.” 

This gives Suguru pause before he squeezes Satoru lightly. “I think they liked you before either of you realized it. They were just intimidated by you.” 

Satoru snorts. “And why would they have been-”

“Satoru, this goes back to me telling you to be more humble around our under classmen. While I doubt ___ would have you any other way now since they know you better, when you first met it was pretty obvious that they withdrew into themself when you started going on about being the strongest.” This makes Satoru pout as he slips his phone into his pocket. 

“Yeah yeah…”  

Suguru chuckles at Satoru’s pouting before brushing his lips along his jaw and releasing him.

“Ah. There was a thing I wanted to bring up about ___.” He says while turning to face Suguru who was now buttoning his uniform. 

“Oh? What about?” He raises a brow, Satoru’s change in tone grabbing his attention more than the statement itself. 

“I think we should recommend them for promotion.” 

This causes Suguru to pause and makes his brows furrow in concern. “They’re not ready to be a first grade, Satoru-” 

“To second grade. I think they’re ready for it.” 

The clarification on grade only soothes Suguru’s nerves slightly, the memory of you broken in his arms still vivid.  “I’m not so sure, you saw how close to death they were.” 

“So were we. The circumstances weren't exactly typical. They managed to survive a mission that was way above their grade. It’s not the sort of mission they’ll be getting sent out on solo or even with someone else. They wouldn’t have even been there if we hadn’t brought them.” Satoru’s tone is serious and Suguru’s sure he can hear regret in his voice as well. “But I also saw them fight more than once during the mission. Once against Q and then against that bastard. If they’d been fighting anyone else they would have done well.” Suguru wrinkles his nose, not looking pleased. 

“I still don’t think they’re ready. We should wait, let them gain more experience first.”

“Are you not willing to recommend them because you really don’t think they’re ready or is it because you’re being over protective?” 

Suguru bristles. “I don’t think you’re being protective enough-” 

“Is that our call to make? If they have the skills to advance in rank we’re doing them a disservice by holding them back. They’re strong, Suguru, they can handle it.” 

The air in the small dorm room feels charged as the two young men stand at odds. 

It’s several tense moments later that Suguru sighs. “I’ll think about it. I don’t like it but I’ll think about it.” Both Satoru and him know that he’ll likely end up saying yes to recommending you once he’s had the time to sit on Satoru’s words. With all the time Suguru spent training you he knew how much you’d grown and how capable you were it just pained him to think of you being sent on harder missions, especially solo. 

__

Back at present Suguru grumbles and cracks open an eye at you as you try to carefully scoot out from between Satoru and himself. It’s early, the morning sky just starting to lighten. He re-secures his hold around you and pulls you back up the bed and sticks his face in the mess of your bed head. He smiles at the sound of surprise you make. “And where do you think you’re going?” 

“I was going to go back to my room so I could start getting ready for today.” You give a half hearted huff before turning to wrap your arms around Suguru. “I didn’t want to wake the two of you up if you didn’t need to be up yet.”

“Mm too bad, woke up as soon as you tried to run away.” He squeezes you tighter and kisses the top of your head.

You stifle a giggle against his sleep shirt at his wording. “Isn’t being dramatic Satoru’s job?”

“Is what my job?” Those words and large yawn are all the warning you and Suguru get before Satoru is slinging one of his arms across the two of you as well as hooking a leg across to drag the three of you close together in the middle of the bed. 

Now securely trapped between them you whine. “Guys, it’s too hot out for this.” Really both of them were like furnaces which will probably be great in winter but wasn’t so great right now. “And I do need to get up and get ready.” 

Satoru whines. “But it’s still so early.”

“I’d like to be on time.”

“You’re not on time to things you’re always early to them,” he grumbles against your hair, nearly nose to nose with Suguru. 

“Being early is being on time!” 

“The fact that you’re the future principle’s kid is showing.” Satoru laments.

Suguru groans. “If the two of you are going back and forth you should just get up already.” 

You look at Suguru apologetically. “Sorry, Suguru..” You give him a peck on the nose before wiggling free from both boys. 

“Wait, don't I get a kiss too?” 

You stick your tongue out at Satoru before leaving the room. And several moments of silence follow where Sugru raises an expectant eyebrow at Satoru. He groans and rolls out of bed to follow you, and later that morning Suguru is amused to see Satoru already in class when he enters the room. Apparently you might actually be able to instill good habits in Satoru. 

Satoru only looks mildly annoyed to be here so early. Suguru figures it’s because he probably got the kiss he’d wanted from you. He was still so sensitive about getting just as much affection as he did. 

It’s when the two boys are packing up to leave that Yaga approaches them, two sheets of paper in hand. “Before you go I have missions for each of you.” He holds out the pages and Suguru notices there’s actually a third paper clinging close to the one passed to him. “Geto your mission will actually be with ___, it’s a way to ease them into more dangerous missions after their recovery.” 

Suguru nods and only half listens as Satoru is given a solo mission. It’s while they’re leaving the classroom that Satoru huffs and waves his hand in front of Suguru’s face, snapping him out of it. “Oi! Earth to Suguruuu,” he draws out his name, a pout pulling at his lips. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.” 

He clears his throat. “Sorry, what were you saying?” He gives the taller boy an apologetic smile. 

“I said you’re lucky that you get to go on a mission with ___. I’m probably gonna be gone for several days all alone,” he laments. 

“Yeah.. lucky..” 

His tone catches Satoru’s attention. “What don’t you want them with you?”

“It’s classified as a first grade mission.” Suguru says plainly. 

Satoru’s expression softens a bit, “Yeah and they’re sending them with you, a special grade sorcerer. I think a special grade and second grade can handle it. Yaga said it was to ease them into harder missions by sending them with you.” 

Suguru doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“You know, for someone who vouched for them with me for their promotion you sure don’t act like you have a lot of confidence in them.” 

That makes an annoyed look cross his features. “It’s not about-”  he pauses and takes a breath “-I do. I wouldn’t have agreed to recommend them for promotion otherwise.” 

Satoru looks at him, glasses sliding down his nose. Suguru wonders what he’s looking for but Satoru apparently finds it when he claps him on the shoulder and allows the topic to drop. 

“Come on, lets see if they want to join us for lunch.”

___

A plume of smoke passes Suguru’s lips as the two of you sit on a low, crumbling, old wall. The mission the two of you had gone on had gone well enough. More curses than either of you had expected but nothing that you couldn’t handle. Honestly you think Suguru could have handled it without you but you were happy to be there with him. The hand that isn’t holding his cigarette slides over your own, giving it a squeeze and returning some warmth that the chill evening had taken from your fingers. You turn your hand so you can return the gesture and you see a ghost of a smile turn his lips from the corner of your eye. 

You’d watched him choke down a curse a few minutes prior, throat bobbing and his pretty face twisting though he’d tried to hide it after. You think it’s strange how you’d never actually asked him much about his technique and how it’s different from your own. Both were curse manipulation but the methods were different.  

“You look like you have something on your mind.” Suguru’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. 

“Is it okay if I ask you something?”

He looks at you fully then. “Always.” He looks tired, he’s looked tired a lot lately though that’s not surprising. There’s an openness there too though, something that felt more and more reserved for only the people the very closest to him. 

“I’ve noticed you usually smoke after consuming curses… or is it just an after battle habit…” you trail off allowing the space for him to fill in. 

He’s not surprised by your question, perhaps a lil surprised that it’s taken you this long to ask though. “It’s to cover up the taste.” He loosens his grip on your hand and plays with your fingers. 

“Guess you know what I’m gonna ask next? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I'm sure it’s nothing pleasant.” 

He surprises you with a laugh. “If it’s you it’s fine.” His words make your heart skip a beat. He loosely laces your fingers together. “I honestly thought you would have asked sooner. You’re always so worried about making others uncomfortable.” 

You can feel your cheeks heat up at that. He wasn’t wrong but… “I just felt like it might be rude.. I normally dodge the topic about my own technique if someone I’m not close to get’s nosy about it.”

He hums. “But we are close.” 

You nod, a comforting warmth settling in your chest at the affirmation of your bond that had started to take form back on that first mission together. “We are.” You look at your linked hands with a small yet warm smile.

“They taste like literal shit and vomit.” His words are matter of fact and cut through the gentle sentiment that had only been shared moments before. He laughs at the look that crosses your features before you can stop it. 

“Sorry-” you begin to choke out.

“Don’t apologize. I like how honest your expressions always are. Though perhaps you should work on controlling them a bit better for your own sake. But yes, it’s terrible. I normally keep either gum or cigarettes on hand to help cover the taste until I can rinse out my mouth.” 

You nod. “That’s.. Yeah.” you say lamely. The corner of his mouth quirks upward in amusement.

He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out. “Since we’re sharing, how about you tell me about your own technique?” He tilts his head, his bangs flopping to the side. “I can tell it’s unpleasant for you,” his voice is gentle.  

You glance again at your joined hands, looking at the black ink-like veins that had formed when you’d absorbed a curse earlier during the mission. You raise your eyes to meet Suguru’s. “It depends on the curse. It’s abilities, and how strong it is. The stronger the curse is the more difficult it is to absorb it even after it’s been subdued.” He’s watching your face but where your hands are joined you can feel him gently running a finger over one of those dark veins. It creates a strange sensation that makes you twitch.  “I’ve absorbed curses before where it felt like I was taking liquid fire directly into my veins, or like my arm is being shredded from the inside. The only thing that keeps me from rejecting some of the curses is looking at my arm and seeing that it’s still whole even if it is covered in a web of dark veins. Other curses are easier, still unpleasant but not so bad that I want to detach my own arms. More like a bad case of pins and needles…” You trail off and with your hand not being held by Suguru you rub your arm you’d absorbed a curse with.

Suguru is focused on you intently as you speak. He knew that absorbing curses was painful for you, that much was easy to see, though he hadn’t realized the range of sensation it could cause. “And even going through that you were the one who apologized to me on that first mission while you were bent over your arm in pain,” his tone is both gentle and admonishing. 

You shift slightly. “..My timing was bad and I became too transfixed on the pain, if you hadn’t been there I would have gotten myself-” 

He grips your hand and lifts it so he’s able to slide further into your space. “But that’s what I’m here for right? To look out for you and protect you, it was true on that first mission just as it’s true now.” The softness is still in his voice but his eyes have a new intensity to them as he looks at you that makes you squirm a little.

Reaching up a hand you brush back his bangs before cupping his cheek. “I gotta be able to stand on my own too though. For the times I’m alone.” Your response doesn’t seem to soothe him at all. 

“That was my biggest concern when Satoru and I  recommended you for promotion. He‘s convinced you’ll be okay but I can’t help but-” 

“Suguru… Do you regret vouching for my promotion?” There’s nothing accusatory in your tone, just honest curiosity. “I’ll be honest I had my own doubts when I found out I was getting promoted..” Your hand falls from his cheek and you look away from him. 

Something like guilt eats at Suguru in that moment, seeing you suddenly look unsure and withdrawing from him even the slightest bit. He lets out a slow breath, he thinks back on his conversation with Satoru. “No.. I don’t regret it. You’re capable and deserve to be recognized for your skills.” Using your hand that he’s still holding he pulls you against his chest suddenly his other arm coming up to wrap around your back. “I’m just.. I care about you and the idea of anything happening to you just…” 

You melt against him instantly and you nuzzle your cheek against his chest. ”It scares you right?” 

He swallows “It does,” he admits and squeezes you tighter.

“I wish I could tell you that I’ll always be okay but… I can’t know that. But what I do know is i’ll always fight my hardest to make it back to you and Satoru, okay?” 

He huffs a small laugh. “Won’t even tell me a pretty lie huh?”

“Would it actually help if I did?’

A beat of silence and then a sigh ruffles your hair. 

“No. It wouldn’t. I’ll just have to trust you then to fight like hell.” 

You pull back slightly and smile up at him and it’s full of so much warmth Suguru thinks it could burn him up and he’d gladly let it. “Didn’t make it this far by not being a fighter.” He can’t help but smile back at you, even if he’s not entirely comforted.  He’d have to trust you to be capable, he can do that even if the unpredictable nature of being a sorcerer means there’s no guarantees.

___

And that's that for this chapter. I'll try to not take too long for next update but I have a few halloween event fics i need to put some focus on. Like I said above let me know if you guys are interested in seeing the exchange event.

Tag list: @strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @icy-spicy @sleezzsister @moonsua1 @yuuuumii @yokaimoon @chibiizzy @porridgesblog @suhmie @defacatestenderly @agentdedf1sh

I hope that's everyone! I tend to base my tags based off who tagged on the previous chapter and whoever asks on the latest update.