#they’re fun to color :3 purples n blues are so pretty

[rosieyart]

🩵💛🩷

[lovebugism]

hi hello "love you on purpose" absolutely devasted me with it's cuteness and i cannot wait for part two!!!! 💗

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (ii)

part one | part two

summary: steve can't seem to stay away from the local freaks. he's more surprised to find himself falling for one of them. you have trouble believing that someone like him could want you in the first place. he wants to prove to you that he's not king steve anymore. (18k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, slight angst, hurt to comfort (sorta), fem!reader TW smut 18+, lots of intimacy and affection and awkwardness, p in v sex, talks of insecurities, reader has an allison reynolds-esque transformation but with a better ending (outfit inspo x, x), probable typos

a/n: welp. here it is. the final part of this 30k+ word fic. it was very fun and very painful to write and i'm very glad it's finally done and out in the world! thanks for all the love on the first part btw reading all the feedback has easily been my favorite part of writing this <3 with that being said, get comfy, get a snack, and enjoy! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Falling over you is the news of the day.

If yearning had a shape, you’re pretty sure it’d look an awful lot like you. 

The clumsiest of humans, fresh into her adulthood but still feeling like a child most days. Soaking wet, born yesterday. A caterpillar weaving her cocoon and trying to figure out where she fits in the world. The girl who decides she belongs right next to this big, boisterous, multi-colored butterfly she couldn’t stand a year or more ago.

And Steve Harrington, he was… Well, he was the kind of poem people spend their entire lives trying to write. 

He was the perfect mixture of beauty and warmth, of mystery and obscurity — the line where the pink of a sunset meets the purple of a starry night. He was all of this rolled up into a twenty-something-year-old boy. A fumbling butterfly that’s getting used to his new wings.

Maybe if you were talented enough, you could write the thing yourself. There’s something powerful in knowing that you could compose some dainty requiem so much bigger than yourself. A beautiful thing that would stand the test of time because there would never be anything else like it. 

It wouldn’t be because of you, though. You passed Ms. O’Donnell’s English class by the skin of your teeth, so your writing leaves much to be desired. It would be your muse that would enamor the masses come the next several centuries, because there will never, ever be another Steve Harrington.

At the very core of this poem would read a universal truth: I have fallen in love with his enigmatic being, and now I’m dealing with the consequences.

Well, you’re trying to deal with them, at least. You’re not having a very easy go at it.

Most of the time, you feel like a thousand bricks have piled on top of you. The jagged edges scrape up your arms and press varying shades of purple into your skin. They crush you underneath their weight, but you don’t try too hard to climb out from under them. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

You feel a little stuck underneath all the feelings you have for Steve. 

You’re not quite sure what to do with them all. They’re too heavy to lift; there’s too much of them to crawl out. It all leaves you feeling a bit trapped. 

It’s a good kind of trapped, though. 

Once the hurt passes, the weight starts to feel like you’re being swaddled in a blanket. Or a cocoon. 

As scared as it makes you, as overwhelmed as you feel, you don’t want this puppy-like adoration to end.

But sometimes, the scrapes sting more than they usually do. The scabs split and start to weep. The faded bruises turn purple again, then to blue and black, and they ache all over. They remind you that girls like you don’t end up with guys like Steve, and the harsh realization turns the comforting weight of being in love into feeling like you’re being buried alive.

Steve is a pretty boy. He’s a rich, prettyboy who wears vintage jeans and drives a new Beemer and has never wanted for anything in his life.

And you’re… whatever the total opposite of that is.

You wear whatever’s cheapest at the thrift store or what Eddie lets you steal from his closet. You drive a rust bucket that belonged to your dad until he lost his license, so the thing practically rotted in the backyard until you got yours. And all you’ve ever done is want for things because you’ve never had anything.

And the one thing you want the most is something you’ve never been able to admit to anyone. Not even Eddie. Not even yourself. 

Screw new clothes or a car fresh off the lot. You don’t want popularity — you don’t even want money (though it certainly wouldn’t hurt). You want so desperately to be loved that it makes your bones ache.

All you want is someone to hold your wrists and kiss your palms, to cradle you when the thunder is too loud and the cracks of lightning make you shake, to be a hiding place where you can keep every secret and be certain it stays safe.

You want someone to smile at you the way Steve smiles at you. You want to feel held the way he makes you feel held — without ever touching you. You want to feel wanted the way he makes you feel wanted.

You want Steve. 

And you’re not sure how long silly love songs will substitute your yearning.

“What do you think about Steve?” you ask Eddie out of the blue.

He was in the middle of a rant about his latest campaign, but you hadn’t heard a single word of it if you’re honest. The butterflies in your stomach were too loud.

The boy sits across the room at his desk, back hunched, while he scribbles ideas into his tattered Dungeons and Dragons composition journal. You’re sprawled out in the middle of his bed like you have been for the past hour, making constellations of Steve’s face from the marks on his ceiling.

“I think he’s an asshole,” Eddie answers without missing a beat.

It makes you roll your eyes. You shouldn’t have expected anything less out of him, really. You toy with the frayed hem of your crop top and rephrase. “Okay, but do you think he likes me?”

“I know he likes you,” he scoffs. “That’s the problem.”

You smile widely to yourself, then purse your lips to the side to keep it hidden. There’s no one looking to see you grinning like an idiot, but it doesn’t make you feel any less like one.

“He wants to take me on a date tonight,” you confess out loud for the first time.

It wasn’t like you to keep something like that from Eddie. Or anything. At all. But you found yourself hiding it like some kind of dark secret. A distant part of you was terrified that it was all in your head, but it’s been three days since Steve asked you now. Which means you’ve spent three days pinching yourself.

You haven’t woken up yet.

“Like, a date date,” you clarify and rise on your elbows to study the boy across the room. 

You feel the need to explain yourself because movie nights and rides around town and hanging out in the break room after closing don’t feel nearly as serious as Steve wining and dining you. It feels much more official now, as though the line between liking someone and like-liking them has been drawn.

“And I’ve never been on a date date before—”

“What about the one time you went out with, uh…” Eddie trails off as he aggressively erases something on his paper. He stills and squints over his shoulder at you. “What was his name? Matt? Marcus?”

“Mason,” you correct and try not to shudder at the memory. “And I left him at the restaurant because he asked me how big my boobs were within the first ten minutes, so he doesn’t count.”

A grin pulls at the boy’s face. He chuckles to himself. “Oh, yeah.”

“And I know I shouldn’t be so nervous about it ‘cause it’s just a dumb date, like… We’ve been alone together a billion times now, you know? It’s just…” you ramble in one breath, then trail off with a huff. You flop back onto the mattress rather dramatically. “Steve Harrington doesn’t date girls like me. He dates girls like Nancy Wheeler. And, as far as I’m concerned, they were a matching made in fucking heaven— I mean, I didn’t know them back then or anything—”

“Obviously,” Eddie murmurs. “That was a train wreck.”

“—But they looked fucking perfect together, Eds!”

The image of them walking the hallways of Hawkins High isn’t hard to picture. You can still see Nancy in her pretty pleated skirt and pink manicured nails and Steve with his stupid hair and brand new Ray-Bans. They owned the school like their parents owned Hawkins — it was practically kismet. 

You try to picture him and you together, and it doesn’t come as effortlessly. 

It’s like trying to wedge pieces from opposites puzzles together; it just doesn’t work. 

And it’s different from anyone Steve’s ever dated. It’s different from anyone you’ve ever dated. People look at him and his pretty girlfriend and gush, “oh, wow, they look good together.” People look at you and a guy with smudged eyeliner and heeled boots and whisper in disgust, “oh god, they deserve each other.”

You won’t get any of the kindness that Steve is used to, only stares from strangers as they try hopelessly to figure out whether or not you’re dating — because surely, he wouldn’t stoop low enough to date someone like you.

“And I don’t wanna…” you waver, trying and failing to put your fears into words. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just scared.”

Eddie shakes his head to himself. “You don’t need to be scared, okay?” he mumbles, his attention still turned down to his notebook.

“Oh, thanks, Eds. I’m cured,” you monotone.

“I just mean that—” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh and swivels in his chair to face you completely. “Steve’s a douchebag, alright? But he’s a good douchebag.”

Your brows furrow. “…What?”

“He used to be an asshole and everything, but… I don’t know, I guess he turned out to be a pretty good guy— and if you tell him I told you that, I will kill you,” Eddie explains in one breath. The half-hearted threat spills from his mouth,and he goes suddenly soft. “He’s not gonna hurt you, okay? I promise. I mean, the guy’s practically a fucking teddy bear.”

A smile pulls slow at your lips. 

It’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard him say about Steve, despite having been friends with him for nearly a year now. The foreign kindness comforts you well enough. If Eddie didn’t think Steve was every bit the good douchebag he says he is, there’s no way he’d let you go anywhere near him.

“Yeah?” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he echoes with a huff, obviously upset about having to admit such a truth. Then he shrugs. “And if he does hurt you, I’ll beat him up. Which, with his track record, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be too difficult.”

A laugh tumbles from your mouth. “Thanks for looking out, Eds.”

He only grumbles in response.

And even though he complains the entire time, he drops you back off at your place and helps you agonize over what to wear. He sits on your bathroom counter to keep you company while you shower, then holds your makeup bag in his lap while you get ready. He only comments once about how differently you’re doing it.

Then the boy lounges on your bed, legs crossed and back propped on the headboard while you rifle through your closet. In true Eddie Munson fashion, he’s got something to say about everything you pick out.

Your white sweater is too tight, he tells you, and the fuzzy texture feels too weird. The plaid skirt you pull from the depths of your closet is too “christmas-y” and “totally not your color.” He tells you he likes your boots better as he helps you with the finicky buckle of your Mary Janes, then snaps the band of your knee-highs when he stands again.

Eddie tells you all of this because it’s easier to tease you than to say what he really thinks — that it feels like you’re in high school again and trying out styles that don’t suit you.

He loved you the way you were, in black and leather and silver chains and fishnets, because he knew that’s what you felt good in. You found your identity in your unconventional style and you sparkled in it.

And you were still pretty like this, dressed in brighter colors and looking like the girls that used to bully you in high school, but it’s so obviously not you. More than anything, it irks him that you’re doing all of this for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

But Eddie knows that you’re nervous — he can tell by the way you’re talking a thousand miles a minute and checking your appearance in the mirror every couple seconds like something might’ve changed. He also knows that you’re still skeptical about this whole thing. Because you have no idea that Steve looks at you like the whole world could crumble around him, and he wouldn’t even blink.

You don’t know that you have nothing to worry about.

So Eddie figures he’ll wait to make fun of you. Save all his teasing remarks for when you’re gushing about the date the next day.

But you’re already aware of all this — how different you look. You hardly recognize yourself when you look in the mirror. You’ve traded in your shades of black for something brighter. Your blowsy hair is clipped back out of your face. Your makeup is more conventional and modest than you’re used to.

You look less like the freak you usually are and more like a wild thing that’s been tamed.

You feel pretty. 

Or, at the very least, the idea that Steve will think you’re pretty makes you feel pretty.

It makes all the imposter syndrome worth it. 

You stand in front of the full-length mirror and tug the scratchy socks up and over your knee when they start to slip down. You rise once more, giving yourself another once over, then nod in approval — pleased with the costume you’ve put on.

A fleeting through with a mean, green, bleeding heart and a mind of its own scratches bitterly at the confines of your skull.

Eat your heart out, Nancy Wheeler.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The ghost in you, she don't fade.

Steve, riddled with chronic feelings of inadequacy, overcooks the chicken and spritzes too much cologne on himself.

He had always been the kind of boy that loved things a little harder than he should’ve. 

Ask any plant he’s ever owned that he accidentally killed with every leaf he overwatered, frightened that anything less would be neglectful. He was always so scared of them dying that he suffocated them until they wilted anyway.

He thought he might’ve grown out of all that until he realized he did the same thing with Nancy. 

He squeezed her too tight and she squirmed at his smothering, called him bullshit and pushed him away so she could breathe again, then stomped on his heart until she was certain it stopped beating for her.

And therein lies the state of limbo Steve Harrington has lived in all his life — between loving something too much and not enough. He hasn’t yet found that balance that stops plants from dying and people from running away.

He isn’t quite sure how to be anything other than the man he is now. 

His conscious clings to your every move. He thinks about when he’s awake, and when he isn’t, he hopes he’ll be lucky enough to dream about you. He bothers you at work all day, then asks if you want to go for a ride when you’re off because he hates being away from you. The nights get too cold when you stray too far. And even though he’s never been much of a chef, he offers to cook for you because he wants to show you he cares enough to try.

Steve’s the kind of guy that overcooks his chicken because he’s terrified that you’ll get sick if it’s not done enough. He’s the kind of guy that douses himself in cologne, then breaks the bottle because he’s terrified of not smelling good enough. He wants everything to be enough for you. 

Steve Harrington, for once in his life, wants to be enough for somebody. 

But now all he is, is a stupid boy that never learns, who smells like he’s trying to overcompensate for being a terrible, terrible chef. 

When Nancy broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to be this person again. Steve was scared he’d become someone he didn’t recognize — someone who didn’t care enough to water plants because, hey, they’re gonna die anyway, right? Because he gave and gave and gave, and had nothing to show for it but a stupid wilting flower.

Steve made a dark room of his broken heart. A boogeyman lived there, too. It made him scared that he’d never be able to love someone like he loved Nancy.

But then you came out of nowhere — this beautiful, loud, and mysterious thing that exudes every color of the rainbow when she laughs, despite her blacker-than-black wardrobe. You smile at him like you’ve never been hurt, like a sun that’s never known the night. It makes him feel like he can be that too.

The two of you seek a similar solace in one another. You fill each other’s voids without effort and without trying, like puzzle pieces or halves of an orange.

Steve met you and he realized that he didn’t get his ability to love from Nancy. He had always been a lover, a boy who could love something deeply, and that didn’t go away when she broke his heart.

And sometimes it was awful. It was painful and frightening more than it was anything else — love. It was doubtful and envious and distant. 

Love makes you selfish and creepy and uncharacteristically overbearing. Love makes you worry about your hair and overcook your chicken and drench yourself in cologne. Love takes a hell of a lot of hope, and that’s what he feels like when he’s with you — hopeful. Like he’s never been hurt before.

A surge of optimism and apprehension hits him like a bolt of purple lightning just behind his ribcage when the doorbell rings. Mostly because he knows you’re waiting on the other side of it. His hands shake when he opens the door, but not because he’s scared. He’s just full of hope and buzzing with its foreign intensity.

Steve finds the rest of his life standing on his front porch, dressed in all the trappings of his past.

You’re smiling wide when you see him, the same whizzing ball of hope that he is now, and clutching a bottle of wine. You’ve traded your usual grocery store alcohol for something bottom shelf from an actual liquor store. The sunshine grin you’re wearing is about the only thing familiar about you now.

With your hair pulled back, brows combed neatly to match the pretty makeup you’ve spotted gingerly on your features, dressed in foreign colors with knee-high socks and kitten heels — you look nothing like yourself. It’s a costume you’ve got on, still so pretty but pretending in some way.

It has Steve startled for a moment, thinking Halloween came a whole six months earlier and he never got the memo. Then he realizes you must’ve gotten all dressed up for him, even though you never had to. Just like he didn’t have to try and play chef to impress you.

Both of you are just stupid idiots who care too much, making it painfully obvious despite your best efforts to keep it hidden.

“Hi,” you grin sheepishly through a foreign, pale pink, and glossy mouth.

Steve’s too busy gaping at you to respond in a timely fashion.

The wind billows through your hair and sends strands of it flying in your face. And even though he can’t remember a time when you’ve ever worried about the wild halo on your head, you’re quick to tuck them back into place again. 

With most of it pulled back and combed with obvious intent, your face is left unhidden. Your neck and shoulders and collarbones are too. And you’ve got on this tight sweater and pretty skirt and tall socks that make your legs look longer. All of your usually concealed features are heightened. 

The dainty swipes of mascara, eyeshadow, and blush only accentuate them further, though your spots are attentively covered with foundation that isn’t exactly your shade. It’s a bit lighter than your skin tone, like you’d gotten it some time ago when you were still a bit paler.

You look less like the loud, plucky girl he’s come to know and someone more timid, delicate, and polished.

You’re so pretty he damn near forgets how to speak. His tongue swells and every word he could use loses meaning at the sight of you. But it isn’t you, and that only confounds him further.

It’s like you’ve covered yourself in body paint. The real version of you is hidden somewhere underneath it all, glimmering somehow more golden than the flaxen you’re playing pretend in.

When Steve realizes he hasn’t yet answered you, it feels like it’s been ten minutes or more. In reality, no longer than five seconds have gone by.

“Hey,” he greets finally, in an exhale that gets caught in his throat halfway through. He clears it and smiles shakily. “Hi.”

He steps to the side of the doorway and ushers you inside. He wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks when he thinks you aren’t looking, but you catch him in the act when you turn to face him again. Your grin widens and you trap it between your teeth.

“Smells good in here,” you compliment, walking slowly backward with your hands clasped behind your back.

“Thanks,” he accepts your flattery with an awkward hand on his neck. “Yeah, uh— I kinda burnt the chicken a little bit, but everything else should be good. At least, I hope it’s good. It’s kinda hard to mess up a salad, right?”

He laughs under his breath, then starts to ramble without realizing it.

“I’m not the best cook, as it turns out. I mean, I thought I could at least fake it, you know? Fake it ’til you make it, or whatever that bullshit saying is — but there is no faking the tornado I just had in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve made a bigger mess in my life. But, uh, yeah… And don’t worry! I didn’t put tomatoes in the pasta. Or the salad. Or the sauce. I know you don’t think them, so…”

You’re in the middle of beaming and trying very hard not to laugh when he hits you with that one. 

Steve, like you, is having a very hard time shutting up just now. He’s in the same web of nervousness that you’re spun up in too. He’s all tangled and trying to weave words that make sense, though everything things his mouth in half-thoughts.

But then he says something so strangely profound out of nowhere, and it makes your pounding heart stop without warning. He’s just talking about fucking tomatoes, but you understand that — in some weird, roundabout way — that it’s much deeper than that.

You’d told him the mundane little detail in passing some time ago. At the diner, when you picked the fruit from your burger with a grimace on your face. You said it tasted like battery acid and tainted everything it touched. He took it back to the counter when you weren’t brave enough to. 

“Here you go, Punchy. Your battery-acid-free burger,” he’d joked when he set the fresh plate in front of you.

And he remembered all that. He tucked that tiny piece of information about you into the very back of his mind so that he could use it to make you happy later on.

That’s adoration at its core, you figure. Somewhere in all those minuscule remember-ings.

“You remembered that?” you wonder aloud in a bemused sort of whisper.

Steve has already moved on. He’s rambling about the broken spout of his cologne bottle but stops the second he realizes he’s doing it.

Of course, I did, scoffs the little voice in his head. I’m sorta obsessed with you, as it turns out.

He doesn’t tell you that, though, for reasons he finds are quite obvious — the most significant of which would be running you off entirely. So instead, he just shrugs and tries to be cool, despite having already established how terribly uncool he is.

“Yeah. I remember everything.”

When the two of you settle at the dining table, Steve realizes he’s eaten most of his dinners alone until now.

His parents stopped caring sometime around middle school. His dad got too busy with work, started staying after-hours to catch up on paperwork or screw his secretary. And his mom didn’t care because she was too busy getting wine-drunk on the phone with whatever book club friend that was just as miserable as she was. 

Steve would fork at his cold pad thai while he listened to his mother’s muffled rant about who went where and who wore a hat.

He couldn’t find it in himself to eat in his room. The empty dinner table was the only sort of stable routine he had in the swirling uncertainty of being a teenage boy.

But now he’s got you. 

He hopes he never stops having you. He doesn’t want to go back to being alone like that again, not after he’s found someone that can fill an entire room with their laugh.

The cackle you let out at Steve’s terrible, terrible cheese pun — “yeah, I guess you could say I cooked this all on my provol-own — echoes through the dining room. Even though he knows you’re laughing at him and not exactly with him, he figures it’s a small price to pay to keep hearing such a heavenly sound.

It reminds him of the real you, the one underneath all the foreign regalia. 

The rays of your usual sunshine peek from the clouds you hide behind. You’re way too bright to stay hidden.

Steve can tell you’re watching his every move. You eye him from across the table with the intent of doing everything he’s doing, lest you might do something wrong. He puts his napkin in his lap, so you put your napkin your lap. He cuts his chicken with his fork and knife, so you cut your chicken with a fork and knife — though you quickly realize you’re not quite as dexterous as he is for all that.

It’s endearing. The kind of cute that makes his heart hurt just a little bit. He hides his smile and happily abandons the conventional things he’d been taught to do. He eats with his fingers and then licks the pads of them, grinning when you giggle and do the same. 

It’s not something he’s used to — grabbing pieces of cut chicken with bare fingers and slurping noodles without having cut them first — especially not when he’s trying to impress a girl. But he can tell the lack of etiquette makes you more comfortable, and that’s all he really cares about.

He offers you another serving once you’ve finished your first. You decline politely with the mutters of “oh, no, I couldn’t,” but he’s seen your appetite. You could down five burgers at the diner and not break a sweat if you’re feeling hungry enough.

It’s one of those little heart-wrenchingly adorable things you do that both shock and enamor him. But, for a reason he can’t name, you’ve decided that part of yourself was too deplorable to add to your costume.

Steve only scoffs at you in response. He scoops more chicken and pasta onto your scrapped-clean plate despite your refusal.

You’re grateful he doesn’t let you get away with your stubbornness. Truth be told, you were still sort of starving.

He’s just grateful you don’t think his mediocre cooking skills total a complete dealbreaker.

Steve tries to fight you when you offer to help him clean up the kitchen. He tells you to make yourself at home on the couch while he tidies up, ushers you to pour yourself a glass of wine and pick out a record while you wait for him. 

But you have issues with authority and take little fondness in being told what to do. So, in true Punchy fashion, you do the exact opposite of what he tells you to do.

You roll up the sleeves of your pretty sweater and stand next to him at the deeply set sink in his kitchen island. “You wash, I’ll dry?” you offer.

He doesn’t argue, only nods. 

He’ll let you take the blame for not wanting to be too far away from him. It’s easier than admitting his own guilt in the matter. ‘Cause sometimes his heart breaks when he blinks and he has to miss you for the faintest fraction of a second. 

“You seriously don’t have to, you know—”

“Stop saying that,” you scold and snatch the dripping plate from his hands. You swipe a towel over the ceramic with a meticulous ease. “I actually like doing dishes, okay? I do them at all time. I’m practically a professional at this point.”

“Yeah?” Steve laughs, shooting you a grin as he dunks his hand into the warm, sudsy water.

You love that stupid smile so much you’ve started to hate it. 

It’s soft and so sincere, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. The gentle grin drips with so much honey you can practically taste it. It’s so tender it makes you feel unworthy, so full of love it fills you with a distant rage that he might’ve looked at someone else with it.

You have to duck away from his gaze before he can catch you blushing. 

“Yeah. That’s, like, my one chore when I’m over at Eddie’s,” you respond with a shrug. “Because, you know, Wayne’s always working and Eddie’s… Eddie, and he really shouldn’t be trusted with anything remotely sharp or breakable, so…”

“What about when you’re home?” he wonders, simply for the sake of keeping the conversation going, but noting how the mention of home makes you tense.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, considering every time I go back, it looks like there’s been a tornado, doing dishes is just one part of the shit pile that I need to clean up, you know? My parents are usually on some bender — or still passed out from said bender — to take care of the place while I’m gone.”

Steve sees how distracted you’ve gotten as you keep wiping down a bone-dry plate.

“But, uh, anyway. Point is, I think I’m destined to have a career as a professional dishwasher.”

When your gaze flits back to Steve’s, he forces a smile at you.

He’s noticed how you always seem to talk about your best friend and his uncle without ever mentioning your parents. He understands now that it’s because they weren’t your family, not like Eddie and Wayne were. The small Munson clan was your home, it seems, and he fights to steer you back that way.

“So, you stay with them most of the time, then?” he redirects innocently as he hands you a freshly washed wine glass.

“Yeah. I think I’m pretty much Eddie’s personal caretaker these days.”

“Wow,” he marvels playfully, wide-eyed and grinning. “On top of being a professional dishwasher? You’re really doin’ it all, aren’t ya, Punchy?”

“Mm-hmm. I am a real jack of all trades, Harrington,” you joke back with a commendable finesse and flash a teasing smile up at him. The pastel-colored lipstick has mostly disappeared from your mouth now. You look more like yourself.

“And Eddie— he’s got this crazy scar on his hand from when he was a kid, and he was helping Wayne wash the dishes. He, like, blindly reached into the water or something and stabbed himself. Knife went straight through his palm.”

Steve winces.

“Yep. Now he says he’s too traumatized to help do the chores,” you reminisce with a distant laugh and set the glass upside down on the drying rack. “I don’t mind, though. I like doing them on my own. Gives me time to think, you know?”

“I’m standing right here,” the boy beside you scoffs, feigning offense.

“You can be the exception, Stevie,” you assure with a grin.

Maybe it’s the look you give him. Maybe it’s the nickname he used to hate, but now makes his heart skip a beat or two — or three. Maybe it’s all those things and the way your fingers brush his wrist when you move to take the pot from his hands. Either way, something shifts and he forgets how to use his fine motor skills.

The pan slips from his fumbling hands and yours and plops back into the water. The metal bangs loudly when it hits the bottom of the sink. Both of you jump back to avoid the splash.

“Shit. Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes scanning your form to make sure he didn’t make a total mess of you.

“It’s okay,” you promise with a gentle laugh and swipe the towel in your hand over your sweater to remove the droplets clinging there.

Steve scrunches his nose. “I feel like I might’ve just ruined my co-dishwashing privileges.”

“Just a little,” you quip.

You give him no warning before bringing the waffle-patterned nettle up to his cheek to dry him off, too. He flinches at the suddenness of the action but melts into your touch without thinking twice.

“You know, you have a pretty cool scar, too,” you tell him, mostly out of the blue, while you dab at the stubble on his jaw.

Steve’s gotten used to all your abrupt mannerisms and the way you flip-flop between topics with an expertise only you seem to possess. He likes that about you, though. There’s never a quiet or still moment when he’s with you.

“Yeah?” he hums back.

You nod and move down to his neck. “I felt it a while ago, during our Night of the Living Dead marathon—” of which Steve has no recollection. He can’t remember a damn thing from those movies, but can still feel the tingle of your mouth against his own. 

“—On the back of your head. Felt pretty gnarly.”

You switch the towel to your other hand and use your free one to swipe through his hair. Your fingers muss at his hour or more of hard work, but your touch is a far better reward than nearly quaffed hair. You weave through the chocolate strands until you reach a marred, barren line.

“Right… there.”

Steve, still buzzing with your touch, manages a breathy chuckle. “Uh, yeah. It’s a… It’s a really long, really stupid story.”

“Wanna give me the short version?”

The grin you give him is impossible to say no to.

“I’m a super klutz,” he summarizes with a shrug and a sloppy grin. 

He mourns the loss of your touch when your hand slips from his hair. “Well, now I have to hear the story.”

“It’s dumb. Like, seriously—”

“I like dumb,” you assure quickly to stop whatever self-loathing he was about to spew. “I’m best friends with Eddie Munson. I think I can take it.”

“Touché,” he chuckles under his breath. The remaining dishes are left forgotten in the depths of the soapy water when he turns his back to him. He leans his weight on the countertop and grips the edges of it in his hands. “You see, I did this really smart thing when I was a baby where I’d, you know, crawl backwards—”

“Crawl backwards?” you repeat with an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah. I’d push with my hands — beep, beep, beep,” he flattens his palms and presses them against thin air to demonstrate it for you. “Always in reverse. I mean, it makes sense, right? You gotta push to move.”

“Sure,” you shrug. A laugh tumbles from your mouth shortly after.

“Did that until I reversed my way down a flight of stairs and hit my head pretty damn good,” he concludes with a wince. It’s like he can still feel the pain sometimes.

“Wow,” you marvel. “So, like… When people ask if you were dropped on your head as a kid, the answer would be—”

“Yep…” he sighs, then laughs when it makes you laugh. He looks over at you with sparkling cinnamon eyes. “It explains a lot, doesn’t it? I think, like, right out of the gate, I’m super confident, you know? But I’m also a total idiot, which is just a brutal combination.”

“I have noticed that, actually,” you confess with a gentle sort of smile.

“Yeah?” he winces.

“Yeah. You do this thing sometimes where you get all… suave and cool,” you tell him, squinting and lowering your voice a few octaves for effect. “Like you’re trying to be King Steve all over again. And then you, like, trip over a stack of DVDs or something because the universe is trying to humble you.”

“That is a… really good way of putting it, actually,” Steve confesses with a laugh.

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, the good thing is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. So, I guess I’m pretty glad somebody bumped my head before we met. ‘Cause things probably would’ve turned out… a whole lot differently.”

Steve watches your face contort from understanding to confusion. Your manicured brows pinch together and your doe eyes squint over at him. He watches you break down his words in real time. 

“Somebody…” you murmur under your breath. “You mean… Are you talking about Nancy?”

“Yeah, uh… She gave me a— a pretty big thump, you know? Worse than the one I got falling down those stupid stairs,” he tells you with a reminiscent smile. 

It makes you feel like a total idiot, standing in front of him like this — a carbon copy of the girl that tore his heart to shreds.

“I deserved it, though. I mean, you knew me back then, I was a… a total asshole. And sometimes, I think I still would be if she didn’t, you know… if she didn’t… totally rip my fucking heart out,” he concludes with a sad sort of laugh. “Now I’m kinda grateful she did. As bad as it hurt — as angry as it made me — I think, in a lotta ways, it made me better.”

“Better?” you echo quietly.

“Yeah… If she didn’t break up with me when she did — if I didn’t get that dumb thump on my head — I wouldn’t have changed. I wouldn’t be… here right now. With you,” he confesses, revealing more of himself than he ever has before, to a girl he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a couple of years ago.

He looks beside him at this costumed girl — at you — and he sees someone he probably would’ve given the time of day back in high school. The lack of dark, baggy clothing makes you look approachable — like you won’t actually bite him for coming near you like the rumors always said.

And Steve’s self-aware enough to know he probably would’ve treated you like shit back then. He would’ve fucked you just to fuck you, then only talk to you when he needed you to do his homework for him. And you wouldn’t have been the first girl he did that to either, and the thought makes him want to puke.

He’s glad he’s found you when he did. He’s even happier you met him where he was at, in that awkward in-between stage of growing up where you’re trying to be someone different while still finding comfort in staying the same. You never complained even once when he reverted back to his old ways.

And even though you’re standing right next to him, your chest nearly brushing his arm with every heavy breath you take, he finds himself missing you. 

You’re not you — not without the fun outfits and the crazy hair and all your rings that clink together every time you move. He misses how the metal felt against his skin and the way they’d get caught in his hair.

You’re still beautiful like this, but it’s a strange type of beauty. One that both of you know doesn’t belong to you. You fit into it like baggy jeans or a too tight shirt. You’ve squeezed yourself into a ball to try to fit into a world far too small for you, because you thought that’s what Steve wanted.

“I’d still be that King Steve douchebag… Partying every night, getting drunk out of my mind, never settling down like I…” The words get trapped in his throat. He clears it to force them out. “Like I always wanted to, you know?”

“Right,” you murmur, voice not strong enough to be any louder than that.

“So, yeah, I don’t know. I guess, in some weird, roundabout way, I’m just to tell you that I’m not that guy anymore. King Steve,” he admits and presses his hip into the counter to face you fully.

When you gather the strength to look up at him, you find his gaze already dripping with honey and staring down at you. He’s all soft and mushy and twinkling with the adoration he’s got for you. And when he smiles, it’s so terribly sincere and coated with a distant sadness that’s been playing on the edge of his voice this whole time.

“And I know you might still see me as that guy. I don’t blame you. Honestly, I don’t really deserve to be looked at any differently, not after how I acted towards you—”

“Steve,” you breathe out in a tender sigh. “It’s okay—”

He shakes his head to himself. His eyes squeeze shut when his chin falls to his chest.

“It’s not. It’s… It’s really not. I just—” he inhales sharply, chest deflating on the exhale when his gaze turns back to you. He looks sterner now, but still so tender. “I just want you to know that I’ve changed, okay? I am changing. And I don’t want you to think I’m the kinda guy you have to change yourself for.”

When the weight of his words finally hits you, it feels a bit like being punched in the stomach.

It knocks all the wind out of you and makes it hard to think about anything other than the sudden loss of breath. Like a kid who’s fallen off the monkey bars and flat onto their back, you can’t do anything but writhe through the ache and hope you’ll be back to normal soon.

You got dressed that evening thinking you were the master of deception. You perfected your subterfuge and awaited Steve’s inevitable swooning because you looked like all the other girls he’d fallen in love with. 

But he sees through every inch of your pretending with his secret x-ray powers, and now you’re just a stupid girl standing in front of him, soaking wet with embarrassment.

It’s a little like when he and Tommy and all his basketball goons would make fun of you. They’d talk about you like you weren’t there while they tossed tiny crumbled up pieces of paper into your hair so they could watch you struggle to get them out. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because now he’s apologizing, and telling you that he likes you, and that you never had to change a single damn thing for him at all.

You’re equally as self-conscious, though, and feeling like a total idiot for thinking you could even pretend to be halfway normal.

“Oh…” is the only thing that leaves your mouth in that moment. Your mind is still going a million miles a minute. You want to blurt out an apology and an explanation all at once, while simultaneously turning into a puddle at his feet and disappearing entirely.

But rather than break down, you stay standing. Too stuck in your head to feel all there.

Steve seems to notice your trepidation almost immediately. His eyes widen and his brows raise and his pretty mouth falls open to let all of his reassurances spill out. 

“And it’s not that I don’t think you’re pretty! You’re— You’re perfect like this too, but I just…” he inhales and takes the tiniest step closer to you, putting an unsure hand on your waist. “I like you the way you were before. And this isn’t… This isn’t you.”

You blink back stinging tears and turn your gaze to where you toe your Mary Jane’s into the kitchen tile. You go to twist your rings like you always did when you were nervous before realizing you’d left them all at home.

“I just wanted to be like the girls you like,” you confess quietly.

“You are like the girls I like,” Steve corrects with a gentle laugh. “‘Cause I like you.”

Your eyes are all glassy when they flit back up to his. 

Even though you don’t look quite like yourself, the way you look at him hasn’t changed. You still gaze at him like you can see right through the nice hair and the dumb smirks and the stupid persona he puts on when he doesn’t feel good enough the way he is. You look at him like you’re in love with the boy he tries like hell to keep hidden.

The exact same way he looks at you.

“I think I just got a little spooked. Girls like me aren’t supposed to end up with guys like you.”

“I stopped believing in that shit a long time ago,” he admits with the shake of his head. “The whole soulmates-love-at-first-sight thing, it’s all… bullshit. If I’m gonna love someone, I’m gonna do it on purpose.”

Steve watches the lingering sadness in your eyes ebb to something sunnier. Your gaze sparkles and suddenly you’re beaming at him, not bothering to conceal the effect his words have on you. You don’t think you could even if you wanted to.

“I like that,” you murmur in approval, then more loudly proclaim: “Screw soulmates! Let’s start loving people on purpose!”

The two of you laugh about this promise you’ve just made to each other without really saying it to each other. It sort of goes unsaid — if I’m gonna love you, I’m gonna do it on purpose and let’s love each other on purpose. That’s what you mean, and neither of you has to say it out loud because you get it. 

It’s that exact realization that makes Steve’s heart flutter something fierce. Suddenly, the urge to touch you becomes too great to bear. He wants to feel you like he did on the couch of his theater room, when a film he could barely recall crackled in the background because the feel of you was too loud for him to hear anything else.

He needs you like that again, on him and all over him. The ache is a palpable one.

The boy squeezes your waist again, as though to remind you he was still there. Or, perhaps, to remind himself that you were still there —the real thing and not something his brain conjured up.

“It’s not totally insane how bad I want to kiss you right now, is it?” he wonders quietly to you. The low, sultry nature of his voice is not at all forced like it usually is when he’s trying most desperately to flirt with you. His words are just naturally weighed down by his desire for you.

You shake your head in a silent promise, then command through a grin, “Kiss me stupid, Harrington.”

Steve doesn’t waste a second.

He’s been anxiously awaiting his chance to touch you all night. He does so now with a vigor that makes you feel all of that anticipation. With one hand on your waist and the other cupping your jaw, you can feel his buzzing skin as it presses against your own — like the static of a television screen. His fingers settle between the strands of your hair while his thumb absentmindedly rubs along your cheekbone. 

The softness of his touch makes you hum against his mouth.

His lips are familiar like home — more than, because sometimes you think you’ve never really had one. 

There’s never been a cozy, warm, and tender place where you could rest your tired bones. Eddie’s trailer, maybe, but it wasn’t yours. No matter how often you slept within the four walls of his bedroom, no matter how hard you pretended like you’d lived there all your life, it would never belong to you.

But Steve could. 

Steve could be yours.

And you wouldn’t even have to pretend either. It would be for real this time.

His mouth was welcoming and pleasant and gentle, far more than you’ve ever gotten out of four walls and a roof. The plush pink of his lips — the cushion of his bottom one you like to dig your teeth into and the rough pad of his tongue that explores your mouth like undiscovered territory — is perhaps the softest thing you’ve ever known.

Even when he kisses you harder and guides you until your back is pressed against the edge of the countertop, it’s still so, so tender.

Steve’s hands migrate to your hips. His fingers clutch the fabric of your skirt as he cages you against his weight and the counter, as though out of fear you might slip away.

Your touch mirrors his desperate one. You cling to him with a similar intensity, balling the fabric of his navy blue Henley in one hand while you waltz through the pretty strands of his neatly styled hair with the other. You let him kiss you the way he wants to kiss you, keeping your obedient mouth plaint for him while he opens your mouth wider with his tongue.

His touches turn bruising, and yours go soft like summer rain.

Steve holds desperately onto you, like any moment he could wake up and none of this could be real. He kisses you like he won’t ever get to kiss you again, having no idea that you’ve already started to build a home in him. 

Meanwhile, your fingers tips trail like drops of water down his chest and stomach. They settle at his waist, on the top of his belt, and linger along the leather edge of it. You’re not quite sure what to do next — if you should wait for Steve to say something or if you should go ahead and take the lead.

Your sudden hesitation makes him nervous.

Steve’s lips click wetly as they part from yours. He peers down at you through heavy lids, amber eyes swimming with honeyed desire. His lips are pinker now, and swollen from being kissed so ardently. His brows pinch in concern. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t w—”

You barely let him get the words out before you press your mouth to his again. Your hands twist at the collar of his shirt to bring him back down to you. You stand on the tips of your toes to meet him halfway. 

“I want to,” you mumble, practically slurring from being so drunk on his touch.

“I wanna treat you right—” he tries to tell you. Some of his words are muffled against your mouth because you find yourself totally unable to stop kissing him now. “—Take things slow with you.” 

You smack a final kiss to his lips. When his honey eyes flutter open again, he finds you wearing a mischievous sort of smirk. There’s an accompanying teasing glint in your glazed over eyes.

“You can do all that when you’re inside of me,” you promise lowly, bold in a way neither of you are used to. The brazen nature of your dirty words is foreign but no less exciting.

They make Steve’s head get all swimmy and his cock tightens as it stiffens in his slacks. His spine tingles with his borderline overwhelming desire for you.

“Have mercy…” he murmurs within a heavy breath, more to himself than to you.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

And love, is only heaven away...

Steve’s curtains match his wallpaper.

It’s a questionable blue and gray plaid that you doubt he picked out himself. The framed pictures of sports cars only add to the boyish flair of his bedroom. It doesn’t look like him, though. None of it does.

The only real trace of Steve The Hair Harrington is the poster of Christie Brinkley hanging beside his window, diligently placed right next to his bed. It’s a blown-up Sports Illustrated cover — a beautiful, soaking wet woman posing less than effortlessly against a palm tree in all her blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfected-bodied glory. It’s the most King Steve you’ve ever seen.

All the minute details of his bedroom make you giggle.

“You have great taste, Steve Harrington.”

He grumbles in annoyance at your teasing as he clicks his door shut behind you.

“Well, you can thank my mom for my great taste, okay? She decorated the place when we moved in, like, forever ago. I just haven’t, you know, gotten around to changing it yet.”

“I can tell,” you laugh and turn to him with a smirk. “Really cool bedsheets, by the way. I mean, seriously. This is state-of-the-art design here, Stevie.”

It isn’t until he’s being pelted with your relentless teasing that he remembers he’s got dinosaur-patterned linens spread out on his mattress.

Steve typically likes to alternate bedsheets in between washing them. His plain gray ones would’ve perhaps been more appropriate for times like this, but they were in his hamper along with another set of plaid ones. His dino sheets may be immature, but they’re no less comfortable. It’s not his fault they just happened to fall on the week you were coming over.

“Alright, Punchy—” The boy rolls his eyes and splays two wide hands on your sides, pressing himself into you rather shamelessly. You wonder if the clothed stiffness against your lower stomach is just your imagination. Any other teasing remarks dissipate from the tip of your tongue as your eyes widen.

Steve notices your silence and smiles. “—You wanna keep making fun of me, or do you wanna make out some more?”

“I think we can do both,” you answer with a shrug, resting your hands along his waist. “I’m quite the multitasker, Harrington.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Wanna show me?”

You nod again, smiling wider now.

He smashes his lips into yours again. You meet him halfway. It’s all too easy to fall back into the swings of things — the desperate mouths and longing touches. Maybe because you’re always desperate and longing for him. And, with the way he’s clinging to you now, you figure he must always be those things for you, too.

You relish in all of his little touches, in the duality of them. He cups your jaw so tenderly yet clutches your hip like he’s still trying to discern whether you’re real or not. Then his palms slide around your waist and up your back until he’s all but hugging you. It’s too sweet a gesture for how he’s prying your lips open with his mouth to slip his tongue inside. 

His hands settle, finally, at the very bottom of your sweater. They linger at them hem, not pressuring you to do anything, just waiting for you to make a move. 

You part from him to abide by his unspoken want. Your trembling hands work together to free you from your top. You’re more than grateful to pry the itchy thing off of you.

Steve doesn’t get the chance to admire the bra you wear. He catches a glimpse of frilly lace, but there’s little time to praise your topless form before you’re pulling him into another searing kiss. It’s full of tongue and teeth now, far more hungry that just moments ago. Your fingers slither through his hair and curl in the strands. You keep him firmly locked against you as his lips trail down your neck.

He finds your most sensitive spot in record time — the one just under your jaw, right beside your racing pulse. Your legs nearly give out when his tongue runs over it. A breathy moan exhales from your mouth before you can stop it and you feel him smile against your neck. He doesn’t comment on it, just keeps kissing you there in the hopes that you’ll do it for him again.

You do.

Steve sucks and nips at your delicate skin, and you revel in the feeling of his mouth. Head thrown back, you let him paint your neck in varying shades of red. Some will disappear come morning; others will darken into souvenirs for you to admire for the next few days.

The thought of him marking you drives you nearly as crazy as the feeling of his lips against you. 

You stopped trying to hold back your whines somewhere around ten of them ago. It was easier, you found, for him to kiss you and to let yourself enjoy it than be hyperaware of all the sounds you were or weren’t making. Steve seems to like it when you moan for him, anyway. Every time you do, he kisses you harder, holds you tighter, and hums out his own subtle moans against you.

He digs his teeth into your skin. It makes you whimper. The desperate, high-pitched noise fades into a lower moan when the rough pad of his tongue rushes out to soothe the bite. He moves on to kiss you elsewhere. You shiver when your spit-slicked skin meets the cool air.

You don’t notice that you’ve hitched your leg up his hip until you feel his warm hand on your thigh to hold it up for you. His fingers inch up until the tips of them rest beneath the hem of your skirt.

You don’t bother to hide how much you want him.

He doesn’t bother to hide how badly he needs you close.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he mumbles into your neck, smiling when his words make you whine. “Can I make you feel good?”

You nod when the words get stuck in your throat.

He parts from you for the first time in several minutes. His heavy gaze meets your own. “Can you say it for me?” he asks, not teasing you, just wanting to make sure you want this. Him.

“Want you to…” you start, then swallow when your voice is tighter than expected. You manage the rest through bated breaths. “…to make me feel good.”

Steve kisses you again, a long and thorough stamp on your lips, followed by several tinier pecks. Then his mouth starts its journey down, down, down your body, stopping only to admire your exposed chest. He’s more than pleased to find that what you’re wearing is hardly a bra at all.

It’s a sheer thing with dainty lace detailing. He figures it’s more for decoration than to push up your breasts. There’s no padding at all. Just a pretty tulle number that leaves very little to the imagination.

You watch him intently with a smile, enamored by how enamored he seems to be by a pair of boobs. You never thought yours were much to ogle over, but Steve presses tender, wet kisses to them anyway. He takes the plush between his teeth, sucking on the delicate skin to leave a blossoming bruise there. He only trails further down when he’s satisfied with the mark he’s branded you with.

Steve falls to his knees with a soft thud upon the carpeted floor. The faint sound is much more obvious in the quiet of his bedroom. He looks somehow prettier below you — soft and delicate and sweet like chocolate syrup or marshmallow fluff. But he’s still got this air about him, something stern and domineering, that tells you he’s still got all the power.

He presses a kiss to your thigh, just above the top of your sock, then several more further up. His fingers raise the fabric of your skirt the higher his lips travel. And, strangely, you’re not all that nervous about being half-naked in front of him. It’s hard to be when he’s kissing you like you’re a beautiful thing that deserves to be touched so tenderly.

Steve keeps pushing up your skirt and stills when he reaches the apex of your thigh, right where the top of it meets the joint of your hip.

Your underwear doesn’t match the bra you’re wearing, he finds. It’s orange all over and spotted with bats — the color has faded slightly, like you’d bought them some number of Halloweens ago.

It’s endearing. Everything about you is endearing. Even when you aren’t trying.

“Hold it up for me, yeah?” he asks you with your skirt in his hands.

It shouldn’t surprise him when you do the exact opposite. You step back from him to shove the thing down your legs, then leave it in a pool of forgotten fabric on his bedroom floor when you gravitate towards him all over again. 

His hands rise to your outer thigh and rub soothingly along the warmed skin. You wonder if he can feel the goosebumps pebbling there. The smirk he flashes up at you tells you that he does.

He’s got a twinkle in his eye when he teases you. “Really cute underwear, by the way.”

“I was obviously very prepared for this,” you retort with ease, making fun of yourself just as effortlessly as you can make fun of him.

“I like them,” the boy assures. “I really like them. Very on brand, Punchy.”

“Would you like me better out of them?”

Your arched brow and knowing smirk, kept caged between your teeth, is met with a bemused gaze. Steve’s eyes go wide at your forwardness.

“Uh, yeah— I mean… yeah,” he nods with a breathless chuckle. Then, more sincerely says, “Only if you still want to.”

You scoff at his timidity, though it’s more at yourself than him. “Look at me, Steve,” you answer plainly, motioning to your half-naked form and the damp spot forming in your underwear. “If I didn’t want this, you’d know by now.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, just before pressing a chaste kiss to the black bow of your panties. He noses at the softness of your stomach while his fingers curl around the hem. He tugs them slowly downward, giving you ample time to stop him if you wanted. 

A part of him is still convinced that none of this is real — you, namely. Truth be told, he’s waiting for a smack to the face and a rant about how all of this was just bullshit.

It never comes, though.

Instead, he gets a sheepish grin and a sparkling gaze as you hold onto his shoulder to step out of your underwear. The giggle that spills from your mouth when he tosses them over his shoulder makes him smile. 

Your pussy is as pretty as the rest of you. It’s more manicured than he imagined for a girl as wild as you. There’s a tuft of hair on your pubic bone, cut down and shaved around the edges. It leaves your lips bare and glistening with your accumulating slick.

Steve’s all but salivating at the sight of you.

“You wanna put that mouth to work, Harrington, or do you wanna ogle some m— oh,” you try to tease him, all amused at how he looks like he’s never seen a naked girl before, knowing full well he’s seen plenty. But your taunts evaporate from your tongue when he finally puts his mouth on you. They ebb into a breathy, high-pitched moan.

The tip of his chiseled nose smushes against you while he licks at the rest of your pussy with a practiced tongue. 

It’s more than obvious he’s done this before. Enough to have become a borderline professional at it. He finds your sensitive button within seconds and with minimal effort. Your legs are already buckling, practically turning to jelly, and he’s only just started. 

He latches onto your lips with a swollen pink mouth. His warm, wide hands wrap around the backs of your thighs to keep you steady and anchored against him.

Steve kisses your cunt like he’s making out with you. He opens and closes his mouth in slow, rhythmic motions, rutting his tongue along your glistening skin all the while. He’s sloppy with intention. Every touch is meticulous. He’s trying to figure you out, trying to learn what you like the most and what makes you moan the loudest for him.

Steve’s attentive. He’s ambitious and ardent. It’s like he enjoys kissing you down there, and not like he’s doing you a favor so he can get something in return. He moans against you like it’s every bit as pleasurable for him, as it is for you.

He alternates his efforts while he discovers you like unexplored territory.

You giggled like it tickled you when he stuck his tongue into your cunt the first time, then moaned when his nose nudged your clit. “Your mouth is so good,” you’d praised through bated breaths, but your whines had gotten too quiet for his liking. He opted to give his tongue a break and latch his slick lips to your swelling clit.

You liked it most when he sucked you there. At least, he figures you must, with the way your mouth parts in a silent cry and your hands dart to his hair to push him further into you.

“You like that?” Steve asks you, just to be sure. He pulls enough away so the words are intelligible, but still close for you to feel the vibrations of them against your skin.

“Yes,” you answer in a broken sigh.

Steve barely lets you answer before he’s licking a flat stripe up the length of your pussy. He slows methodically when the tip of his tongue catches your puffy clit, just so he can see your legs tremble. They do, rather intensely so, and he revels in the way your thighs quiver at his temples.

He wishes he’d laid you down before putting his mouth on you. He regrets not getting to spread you open, to part your soft folds with his thumbs, and admire you the way you deserve to be admired. 

But to be under you this way is a reward in itself. To get on his knees for you, to let you grind your hips against his face, it’s heaven. He never wants to stop feeling you this way.

“Please, Steve…” you moan breathlessly. “Please, please, please.”

You plea like it’s a mantra. Your voice grows tighter and tighter the closer you get to your peak. 

Steve’s not entirely what you’re begging for. You’re not either, really. You just know that the pleasure is swelling. The wringing knot in your stomach is close to snapping. The thought alone is borderline overwhelming. You want to run away from the crescendoing feeling and keep it locked against your pussy all at once.

“Steve… Steve, please. I’m— fuck.”

“You can take it,” he promises, speaking the words into your cunt. His lips smack when he pulls away from you, just for a moment to catch his breath. His chest heaves and his tongue darts to graze his bottom lip. “It’s yours, baby. Just take it—”

You’re a goner the second he wraps his lips around your clit again. He suckles there like his life depends on it. Your hips twitch and you tug at his hair when you come, perhaps a bit rougher than you realize. Steve delights in the burn at his scalp. He groans shamelessly into you, a hearty grumble that rolls over every inch of your body.

You make the mistake of looking down at him in the midst of your undoing. You bring your chin down to your chest and open your fluttering eyes to peer down at the boy below you. He’s already looking up at you, you find, with his own bleary gaze. His cinnamon eyes glitter up at you and you melt for him.

Something about the sight of Steve on his knees for you, face snug against your cunt, and gaze lidded with desire makes you keen. Your hips flex, then still against his mouth while you gush for him.

“There you go,” he murmurs against your cunt. “There you go, baby.”

A high moan gets hung in your throat at his praise. It escapes in a delicate cry when your orgasm pummels into you full throttle. You’re whining and terribly sensitive when the buzzing feeling starts to ebb.

Steve laps at your weeping cunt while you writhe. 

He knows to leave your throbbing clit alone now, but seeks to prolong your pleasure in other ways. He gathers the honey you leak from your pulsating hole with an eager tongue and doesn’t relent until you’re twitching away from him. Only when you’re tugging him off by his hair is he satisfied.

Then he goes effortlessly soft again.

He presses little kisses to the burning flesh of your thighs and runs his palms along the backs of them to coax you back to the earth again.

When your cries fade to more contented sighs and your eyes find his again, he smiles sweetly up at you. Too sweetly. He shouldn’t be grinning so tenderly, not when his lips and chin and nose glisten with your slick.

Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hands as he rises to his full height in front of you.

“Was that… Was that good for you?” he wonders, suddenly sheepish like he wasn’t lapping at your pussy a minute or more ago.

“Are you kidding?” you retort, trying to laugh at him. All that comes out is a fatigued scoff. Your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt and you lean heavily against him when his arms wrap around you again. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

That nearly does him in right then.

He leans to press a languid kiss to your mouth. There’s a foreign musk to his tongue now that wasn’t there before. You hum a moan against him when you realize it’s you that you’re tasting.

“Can I suck you off?” you blurt.

Steve freezes. 

There’s hardly a thing he wants more than to feel your warm mouth on his cock. He’s been hard and aching since the second he got you into his bedroom. And that’s exactly why he knows he won’t last.

He usually jerks off before dates for that exact reason. At least, King Steve did because King Steve knew wherever he was going, he was getting laid. He wouldn’t have the reputation he did if he only lasted eight seconds.

He would’ve gotten himself off before you came around, made sure he was able to last as long as you needed him to if he’d expected you to need him at all. But he wasn’t expecting any of this to happen — especially not for you to come against his mouth and ask to give him a blowjob minutes later. 

He didn’t invite you to dinner in the hopes you’d put out after. Call him old-fashioned, but he enjoys spending innocent time with you. He would’ve been more than happy to cook you dinner and kiss you on the cheek before you left.

But here you are, wanting more.

You never stop surprising him.

“I mean, it’s only fair, right?” you shrug at his silence. “You deserve to get off too.”

“You don’t have to. Not just because I did it for you—”

“I’ve been hearing about your dick since the tenth grade. I’m pretty sure I’m the only girl in the class of ’85 that hasn’t seen it. The least you can do is let me give you a measly blowjob,” you confess lowly.

Steve, knocked senseless at your words, starts working his belt off without a second thought. His hands fumble with the buckle while he smirks at you. “Yeah? What have you heard?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” you answer vaguely and saunter the short distance to his bed. You plop down on the edge of it and lean your weight on your palms. “Just that you have a monster-sized dick and that Marianne from Soc nearly broke it when you took her virginity.”

“That was a rumor!” he defends as he steps out of his jeans. His shirt goes next. He pulls the thing up and over his head with an admirable sort of finesse, leaving his toned torso and hairy chest on display for you. 

“The monster-sized dick or the Marianne from Soc thing?”

He doesn’t entertain with an answer, just drops his boxers and lets you figure it out for yourself. 

His cock is already hard and glowing a faint strawberry color at the tip with neglect. It curves to his right hip and hangs there, weighed down by its own size. The hair upon his pubic bone rises to meet the happy trail on his lean stomach, trimmed slightly but still a bit wild. Tanned skin, heavy balls, and a singular vein that trails like a river from the base to the head — Steve Harrington’s got the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.

You don’t even realize you’re gawking at him because you’re too busy trying to figure out how either could be rumors. You’re looking at beast right now, a wild thing that tiny, little Marianne from Soc certainly couldn’t handle. You’re not even entirely sure if you can.

Steve blanches at your hesitation. He sees you retreat into your head and rushes to bring you back. “Hey, we don’t have to… We don’t have to do this if you do want to. We don’t have to do any of this if—”

“I want to,” you assure quickly, eyes widening when you realize how quiet you’d gone. You can imagine how mortifying it must’ve been, for him to get naked in front of you and be met with total silence. “You just… have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

His concern ebbs to a relieved smile. “Well, thanks for stroking my ego, princess.”

“I would love to stroke something else,” you quip with a playful grin that’s far too proud of such a dumb joke.

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to hide his smile. 

He wants it on record, though, that he’s not grinning at your mindless innuendo. It wreaks too much of Eddie. You both seem to possess a similar sort of humor in that way, in how you can make anything into a joke — particularly a dirty one.

“Thanks for stroking my ego,” Steve would say and Munson would joke, “Well, we both know nothing else of yours is getting stroked, Harrington, so it’s the least I can do.” And Eddie would’ve been right. But Steve would never let him know that.

The boy settles in the middle of his bed and watches with a glittering gaze as Eddie’s best friend climbs between his legs. She spits into her palm and starts tugging at his hard cock with it. Steve isn’t sure of what to do — if he should rub it in this boy’s face or keep this piece of heaven to himself. He decides on that latter when your lips wrap around his leaking tip.

You’ll tell Eddie about all this tomorrow. He’s your best friend, after all — Steve will be doing the same with Robin, no doubt. And that alone is a reward in and of itself.

Getting him into your mouth was easy in theory, but you quickly find that it’s a harder feat than you realized. Steve’s not just long, he’s wide, and the combination makes it nearly impossible to take him fully. 

You pay extra attention to his strawberry pink tip to make up for what you can’t reach. He seems to like that more than anything else. Pearly pre-come leaks from there and you happily lap up his dribbling honey. Steve shudders every time your tongue meets his mushroom tip. His cock keeps drooling for you, so you keep doing it.

You work the rest of him with your palm, made slippery with your spit. Your free hand anchors around his thigh.

The combined effort isn’t something Steve’s particularly used to. 

Most girls choose one or the other. They either try to swallow him whole or opt to use their hands when they know that they can’t. That is, if they even want to suck him off at all. The foreign attention you give him drives him to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

“Hey, we should, uh— we should maybe stop,” he cautions tightly.

You detach from the head of his dick with a soft pop, but keep working him slowly with your palm. Your brows pinch together with concern. “You okay? Is it not… Is it not good?”

“What? No! It’s not— It’s not that. It’s great. That’s the… That’s sorta the problem,” Steve assures with an awkward laugh. “I’m not gonna… I probably won’t last much longer. And if you wanna… you know…”

“Fuck?” you finish for him with a teasing grin.

“Yeah. Then we should, you know, maybe stop now.”

Your hand stills at the base of his cock. Steve can finally breathe without the worry of bursting entirely.

“I mean, we can stop if you want to. You know, no pressure or anything, but… I don’t mind. I was sorta looking forward to you coming in my mouth.”

And how the hell was Steve ever going to say no to that — to you? He’s never denied you of anything before, and with that godawful track record, he wasn’t exactly equipped to start now.

Your mouth wraps around him again. You kitten lick at his tip and moan at the musky taste before sucking at his blushing head.

It feels good — it feels great — but he’s plagued with a lingering worry. 

He wants so desperately to fuck you, more than he needs to breathe, it feels like. But your mouth is too perfect a thing to deprive himself of. He’s scared it’ll take him too long to get hard again, or worse, that he won’t be able to at all. 

The thought of embarrassing himself in front of you, of not making you feel as good as he wants to make you feel, is an unbearable one.

There’s no way he’s stopping you, though. How can he when you’re sucking him off like your life depends on it? Your hand tugs and squeezes at the base of his cock while your tongue laps at his drooling tip. And on top of all that, you moan against him like making him feel good is making you feel good, too.

“Holy shit,” Steve forces through a tightening throat when your tongue dips just below his head to lick where the pale blue vein fades. His neck stretches as he digs the crown of his head into the pillow, revealing all of the pretty tendons you want to sink your teeth into.

“Your mouth is— fuck… Your mouth is fucking perfect, babe, shit.”

All of his little reactions spur you forward. 

You want him to keep praising you. You want to keep making his legs shudder and his hips twitch and his cock jerk in your mouth. So you double your efforts, just to hear more of his pretty whines that get stuck in his throat.

When you duck your head to pay the same amount of attention to his balls, Steve’s a total fucking goner.

His hands, both of which were obediently fisting the bedsheets, immediately dart to your hair when you suck his sack into your mouth. One warm palm cradles your jaw while the other clings to the back of your hand. He doesn’t push you or force you to take him further — he just holds you.

“I’m gonna come,” he grunts before a groan climbs out from his throat. His head falls back again, but he forces it upright a moment later so he can keep on watching you.

His hips stutter when you hum a moan against him.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he manages through heavy pants. “You want my come?”

You nod with his balls still in your mouth, then pull off of them with a pop to put his cock back in your mouth. 

Steve gives you exactly what you want no more than ten seconds later, spitting several loads of his come onto your tongue. It tastes like what had been leaking from his tip, just a bit saltier and far more potent with so much of it in your mouth at one time.

Steve’s thighs tremble around you and hips buck wildly despite himself until he’s given you everything he can possibly give to you. 

He allows himself only a few moments to relish in the aftermath of his swirling pleasure before reaching for the box of tissues on his bedside table. He rises to his elbows to hand you the napkin when his dick slips from your mouth. 

“Here, you can—” he says, trying to offer you something to spit into. It’s a habit he’d developed after the tenth or so girl refused to swallow.

You’ve already wolfed down his come, though, and wiped the excess at the corners of your mouth with the tips of your fingers. You don’t let a single drop of him go to waste.

All this time, Steve assumed he just tasted bad. He figured that must’ve been why no girl ever swallowed for him — not even Nancy, the only other girl he was ever really serious about. And they were together for two years. On the off chance she ever actually wanted to give him a blowjob, he knew her swallowing his come was totally out of the question.

Steve never minded, though. He was a giver more than he was anything else and he preferred most to finish inside. But now, with you, he sees just how much he’d missed out on. It feels a bit strange and unearthly levels of gratifying.

The boy breathes out a laugh and falls back against the mattress. The tissue falls from his limp hand onto the carpeted floor as he revels in his post-orgasmic haze. With his head still swimming and his legs still tingling, his glassy eyes find the speckled ceiling above him but don’t focus on anything in particular.

“Was that—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he interjects softly. 

There’s no use in asking if you were good or not. Surely, you could answer the question just by looking at him. He’s a puddle of a man in the middle of his bed, pliant and at your mercy.

You giggle and slither in beside him, pressing your mostly bare body into his side. One leg wraps over his own. The warmth of your slick pussy lingers at his hip. You prop your head up with your fist while your other settles along his chest, busying itself with the tufts of hair there.

“That was, like, really good,” you praise with a sheepish beam. You wish you knew bigger words that might be able to describe it better. Really good doesn’t come close to explaining how heavenly it felt to come in his mouth, for him to come in yours. “You certainly lived up to all the rumors, Harrington.”

“You say that like we’re done,” he chuckles at your conclusive tone.

Your eyes flit from his face to his softening cock lying limb on his thigh, then back to his face again. You arch a skeptical brow. “No?”

“Not even close,” he shakes his head defiantly. His honey eyes flit between the both of yours. “I need to fuck you, babe, I just… I need a few minutes. If that, you know— If that’s okay with you…”

“You just give me life-changing head. So, yeah, I think I can give you a couple minutes,” you promise with a playful, but not insincere smile.

Even after having his mouth on you, and your mouth on him, you still like kissing him the most.

No amount of pleasure can sate the feeling of having him so close in this way. There’s nothing equally gratifying as sucking his bottom lip into your mouth or feeling the wet muscle of his tongue running itself over your own. You’d be more than happy to kiss him like this until sunrise.

Steve’s hands stay locked on either side of your head while he pries your mouth open with his own. He’ll occasionally pull back to admire your spit-slick, kiss-bitten lips for a moment or two. Then he’ll flash you a smile, like you’re a piece of finished artwork he’s happy with, before pulling you back down again.

You lean just over him, elbow digging into the pillow beside his head as you rest your weight on your arm. That hand twists itself within the strands of his hair, fingers lazing in the chestnut halo on his head. Your other migrates down his body, touching him with feather-light grazes to coax him hard again. 

His stomach tightens when your nails sweep over the thin trail of hair there. His stiffening cock twitches where it lazes along his inner thigh.

“Top or bottom?” the boy mumbles between languid kisses. His eyes flutter open long enough to catch the brief flash of confusion on your face. You don’t stop pressing your lips to his, even amid your uncertainty.

“Like bunks?”

Steve sputters a laugh against your mouth. He pulls away so he can look at you. “No, like— I meant, do you wanna ride me? Or would you rather lay down?”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer quickly. You figure the question must’ve puzzled you because no guy has ever asked before. This kindness is still a tad bit foreign. “I just— I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. It was cute,” Steve assures with a smile so soft it has to be sincere.

“Um… I don’t— I mean, I don’t know. Is that, like, something you want me to do?”

His right hand leaves your face to find his cock. He wraps his fist around himself, pumping slowly to keep himself hard for you. “It’s whatever you want, okay? Promise. I just thought it might be easier for you if you were on top. So you can take things at your own pace and everything.”

“Yeah,” you affirm within a heavy exhale. You feel yourself growing wetter at the mere thought of being on top of him like that. You nod until the words catch up with you. “Yeah. Okay.”

It isn’t your first time being in this position, but something about straddling Steve’s hips feels foreign. You’re starting to notice that most things you do with him feels that way — new and strange and alarming. Even the most innocent things, the mundane shit you’ve done a thousand times before, it’s all brand new with him.

You twist your hand behind your back to unclip your bra. Steve watches you with wide eyes like you’re doing some sort of magic trick. When you toss the piece of fabric somewhere on his bedroom floor, he spits into his palm to wet his cock.

His eyes flit from his hand, to your glistening pussy hovering just above his lap, to your face. “You can, uh— You can rub yourself on me, if you want. You know, to get it wetter. I don’t have lube or anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m…” you trail off. I’m more than wet, you’d almost said. That felt a little too overzealous, though, so you settle on telling him: “I’m okay.”

“You’re still on the, um, the pill, right?” he wonders, feeling a bit lame for remembering something you’d said in passing so long ago.

You complained once that birth control made you feel crazy. You said it affected your mood so drastically sometimes that it didn’t feel worth it to take. That was weeks ago. A brief conversation you’d left in the Family Video parking lot. 

You nod wordlessly in reply.

Steve holds the base of his cock to keep it steady for you as you pierce yourself with it. 

Taking his blushing head was the easiest part. The sensitive tip slips so effortlessly into you, just bulbous enough for you to feel it but not enough to stretch you out. It’s a Goldilocks just right sort of feeling that has low moans crawling from the depths of your throats.

Down, down, down a couple more inches and that’s when the ache starts to set in.

His girth stretches you in an unfamiliar, but no less satisfying way. As good as it feels, the burning sensation is a hard one to ignore. It’s like a fire, a distant one. It’s sort of like reaching your hand toward a flame while your brain screams at you to not get any closer.

It’s a lot like that, actually.

Your brain cautions you about taking him any deeper than you have now lest he might totally split you in half.

“Sorry— Sorry. I’m sorry,” you sputter suddenly, a little embarrassed that he’s only a couple of inches within you and you’re already having so much trouble. With your chin tilted towards your chest and your eyes squeezed shut, you refuse to meet Steve’s concerned gaze. “It’s just… It’s kind of a lot.”

“It’s okay,” he assures quickly. He rubs two soothing hands along your hips and fights back the urge to thrust further into you. You don’t see the gentle smile he looks at you with your eyes closed. “Take your time.”

A little over a minute and a pep talk later, you finally build up the courage to sit on him fully. Come, you can do it, your inner voice spits at you. Stop being a baby. It’s just a penis, don’t be such a bitch. 

Your face scrunches when you slide slowly down upon him. Steve expects you to stop and take a break for anothera moment like you’d done just before. He’s more than surprised when you try to take him completely.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don’t have to— holy shit, babe— don’t hurt yourself— fuuuck.”

You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief when he’s finally sheathed within your pulsating pussy. A lazy, lopsided smile makes its way to your lips, delirious with pleasure and pride. 

Both of you exhale faraway moans at the new feeling, heads falling back on their own accord. You’re already more than gratified and you haven’t even moved yet. He’s reaching parts of you that most guys don’t on their best day, making you feel full without trying. Even without his thrusting, the minuscule twitches of his cock are already driving you toward an orgasm.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him suddenly, smiling lazily at the ceiling. 

Steve’s adams apple bobs as he swallows. Then he nods.

“I’m already really fucking close,” you confess with a breathless laugh, face crumbling under the weight of your pleasure halfway through.

Steve chuckles, then groans quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am, too.”

You laugh together and your coinciding embarrassment fades like an ebbing tide. The intimate confessions affirm what you were already more than aware of — that the both of you are just a couple of lovesick idiots who are head over heels for each other and in so far over your heads that you can barely breathe.

You’re spurred on by the sight below you. Steve’s wild hair and amber eyes and swollen pink mouth make you ravenous. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, looking like the sight of you makes him hungry too, as you start to grind your hips over his lap.

He guides your rhythm with two wide hands on your hips. Your pace is slow, every roll of your hips is experimental, and he revels in every second of it.

You start by rocking back and forth over his lap, then by moving in small circles to add stimulation. When get more confident, you lift yourself up and down over his cock. He’s able to hit your most sensitive spot that way. Steve seems to like it too, because you feel the subtle jerks of his responsive cock.

He accommodates your every move — thrusting his hips in time with your bouncing, then flexing them to reach as deep as he can within you.

“That’s it…” Steve murmurs, mostly to himself. He’s not exactly trying to praise you, but his words send lightning strikes of pleasure to your pussy anyway. He keeps babbling to himself. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Just like that…”

You support yourself with your palms on his hairy chest when you double your efforts on top of him. Steve groans at the lewd sound of your slick thighs clapping over his lap every time you move down on his cock. Your cunt quickly drenches his lower stomach and the small thatch of pubic hair just below it.

You too easily forget that fucking is a marathon and not a sprint. 

You overexert yourself quickly in your attempt to rush toward an orgasm and the effects of your sudden fatigue make your legs feel numb.

“Sorry,” you apologize breathlessly when you’re bouncing slows to a stop. You collapse to your elbows, nose nearly grazing Steve’s, as you swivel your hips slowly over his lap. You try to laugh at yourself. “My legs are just getting a little tired… I haven’t done this in a while if you couldn’t tell.”

Steve smiles sympathetically up at you. His hands leave the plush of your hips to cradle your jaw. He gazes at you with a stern sort of gentleness. “Stop apologizing. You’re good,” he promises, then pulls you softly down to peck your mouth.

He rolls his hips up into you and grunts when it makes you whine. “So fucking good…”

Steve tells you to tuck your knees further up his torso and you obey without thinking. You tuck your face into his shoulder and let him cradle the back of your head with one hand while the other settles on your ass. 

He grips you there rather shamelessly, fingers digging into your plump skin, while he bends his knees behind you. He plants his feet on the mattress and thrusts up into you without warning. 

His pace is already a relentless one, having no need to work himself up to a rapid pass as you had. Being basketball team captain has done wonders for his stamina, it seems. He drills up into you and keeps drilling into you without tiring. 

He keeps you securely pressed against him all the while and you relax into his embrace, happily letting him fuck you in his own delicious rhythm as he’d done for you.

The new position stimulates you from all angles. Steve’s hard cock pounds into your weeping pussy. Your swollen clit catches the coarse hair on his taut stomach with each of his thrusts. Your pebbled nipples drag along his furry chest.

It leaves you a whining, writhing mess on top of him.

“You like this?” he murmurs in your ear through broken pants. 

He’s partly teasing you. He knows you mustlike what he’s doing to some degree because you’re moaning something fierce into his neck, peppering too sweet kisses in between your pretty whines. But he also wants to know that you like it. He wants to hear you say the words.

He feels you nod against his shoulder. “Yes...” You sigh, then whimper. “Yes, yes yes—”

“I knew you did,” he affirms. You can hear the smile on his face. You’re not sure if he’s mocking you or not. You’re not sure if you particularly care either. 

His stubbly jaw grazes your cheek when he turns his head to press a kiss to the burning skin. “Knew you’d like it… Takin’ my dick like a fuckin’ champ, babe.”

“Wanna be good for you,” you confess against his sweat-slicked skin, your voice high and wet like you’re close to crying.

Steve tugs at your hair, not enough to hurt you, just enough to pull you from the refuge you’d sought in the nook of his neck. He finds that your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, brows pinching and swollen lips softly agape. His amber eyes are just as wild, heavy with hunger.

“You are good for me, baby,” he promises and seals it with a searing kiss to your wet mouth. He means it in more ways than one and prays you understand. “You’re so good for me… Fucking perfect, babe— shit—”

His cock twitches in your snug slick when you clench around him. He tightens the grip he’s got on your ass and spreads you wider to pound harder into you. You hope his scorching touch will leave bruises come morning. You want to remember how it felt to have him touching you this way.

“Steve…” you sigh, helpless.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna…” you start, then whimper when you feel the familiar pleasure start to crescendo once more. It takes a moment for the words to return to you. “I’m about to come.”

“Touch yourself,” he blurts.

Your lidded gaze widens. You peer down at him, bemused by his sudden request. “Huh?”

“Touch yourself for me,” he repeats, groaning when the request makes you tighten around him. “Want this to be good for you, too.”

He says this like you’re not already in heaven. You listen to him anyway, though, and squeeze your hand between your slick bodies to find your sensitive button. You rub at your clit until your thighs tremble around his waist. You try your best to ride through every bolt of lightning the pleasure shoots down your spine, despite the distant fear that you won’t be able to weather them.

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises lowly. “Keep rubbing your clit for me…”

Your free hand stays locked in his hair. Your grip tightens within the chocolate strands as you near your peak. Steve revels in the ache, groaning into your shoulder when the burn at his scalp spreads. 

You’re already gut-wrenchingly close. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, a struck chord crescendoing — and then Steve changes the angle of his hips. He flexes them suddenly and his thick cock probes something much deeper inside of you. Something that’s never been touched before — not by another guy or a toy or you.

It’s tender, and much more sensitive than your clit. Your vision strays for a brief moment as a white-hot flame of pleasure makes you jerk against him. You gasp sharply, then forget how to breathe when a moan gets caught in your throat. Your hand stills between your slick bodies as you freeze on top of him.

The wet cry finally spills from your mouth after several long seconds. It’s as long and delicate and wet as the orgasm you gush around Steve’s cock.

The flame burns red hot just before you come, then turns to simmering embers when your cunt numbs from the intense pleasure. You blink, and suddenly the fire is burning blue. The rest of your body becomes a casualty to the inferno.

“Yeah? Is that the spot, baby?” you hear Steve wonder. He murmurs the words in your ear, but you don’t hear them. They sound muffled and far away. 

You hope he doesn’t expect you to answer. You’re not entirely sure if you can form words anymore, or any actual conceivable thoughts. All you can do is suffer through every overwhelming wave of your orgasm that leaves you a crying and convulsing mess on Steve’s lap.

“Holy fuck—”

The boy slams his hips against you with a final, dense clap that sounds deafening in the quiet of his bedroom. Your gushing and fluttering cunt milks his cock. The feeling of your weeping pussy and the sound of your pretty whines throw him headfirst into his own orgasm. His thrusts still as he twitches within you. A moment later, you feel the subtle tingle at the base of your spine when he spits his come inside of you. 

His come paints your welcoming, rippling walls. It’s warm, like the first sip of coffee in the morning or fuzzy socks on cold feet. It blankets you in a sinful comfort.

Steve noses at your cheek while he rides the high of his climax. He rolls his hips slowly into you, much softer now that his cock has grown so sensitive. He clamps his mouth shut between his teeth to stifle his too loud moans and desperate whines. They’re forced to crawl from his throat as suffocated grunts.

You mourn the loss of not seeing his face while you’re tucked so securely into the nape of his neck. It’s a work of art you can imagine so clearly — his pinched brows and scrunched nose and parted lips. But you relish in the searing hold he has on you now, happy to hold and to be held.

The shuddering is slow to subside, especially from you. The aftershocks of your orgasm keep your hips spasming over his lap. Steve groans into your shoulder every time your pussy quivers around his softening cock.

And then the two of you just lay there. You hold onto each other and try to catch your breaths. With the both of you covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your skin sticks together with every tiny movement. The feeling of it makes you smile. You feel like the two of you really are melting together.

Steve’s fingers part from your wild strands of hair and take to tracing the expanse of your damp back. You hum in contentment at the feeling, nuzzling your nose up and down the right side of his neck. 

The moment is melted ice cream and early morning rain and marshmallow fluff. It’s spring mornings on the porch and warm breezes in the fall. It’s a soft and familiar thing that’s still so, so new.

You think you could spend forever here, if you had to. In Steve’s bed and in Steve’s lap and with all of Steve’s languid touches.

But sex is different when you’re an adult. 

When you’re a teenager, you get to be irresponsible. Carelessness sort of comes with the territory. You have sex in a dirty bathroom of a bar you snuck into and don’t think twice about the implications of any it. But as an adult with bills and a nine-to-five and groceries you’ve got to get once a week, all you can think about is how inconvenient a UTI would be.

“I should probably use the bathroom,” you murmur, already grieving the loss of his touch before you’ve even parted from him. 

You leave the safety of his neck to peer down at him. His heavy lids mirror your own. 

“I have this thing where if I don’t piss after sex, I feel like I’m gonna be, like, cursed or something. Kinda like when you break a mirror and you’re stuck with shit luck for seven year— or however that dumb superstition goes,” you ramble, voice heavy with fatigue and lingering pleasure. “Anyway. Yeah. Plus, I should probably clean up, too.”

Steve breathes out a laugh at your sudden prattling but humors you nonetheless.

Somehow you manage to pry yourselves off of each other — you, feeling significantly emptier without him inside you and Steve, already shivering with the lack of your warmth all over him. 

You separate just long enough for him to wet a washcloth in the sink while you piss just a couple feet away from him. The bathroom connected to his bedroom seems to be a foreign sight for you — a least, that’s what he assumes because you rave so enthusiastically about it the entire time. 

It’s all Steve’s ever known, though, so he finds it difficult to do anything but nod along with your rambling. More than anything, he’s glad you’re not as weighed down by the domesticity  of the moment as he is. Because he, for one, feels a little like he’s been hit by a freight train. 

Perhaps spending so many years all alone has made him sensitive to closeness.

You sit on the marble countertop and rest your forehead on his shoulder while he cleans you up. He runs the warm cloth along your delicate folds and wipes away traces of your slick and his come that glisten on your thighs. He pleats the rag and does the same to his softening cock and surrounding skin. 

It feels so strangely intimate, more than the sex somehow.

Steve tugs on a fresh pair of boxers and gives you a faded Hawkins Phys. Ed tee to change into. The loose fabric and baggy fit feels much more familiar than the costume you’d initially arrived in. He might be happier than you are, though, to finally get to see you in your most natural state — makeup sufficiently smudged away and ill-suited clothes forgotten on his floor. 

You crawl beneath the mussed navy comforter of his bed and smush your face into his pillow. “See? The dino sheets aren’t so bad, are they?” the boy teases when you hum in contentment. 

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he settles in beside you.

You smile but don’t open your eyes. “I’m just sleepy… Sue me.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock, grandma.”

“It’s your fault,” you argue, voice dripping with exhaustion. Your skin purrs as he reaches blindly beneath the covers to rub his palm along your forearm.

He grins softly to himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You wore me out, Harrington.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning, ‘kay?” he promises, then laughs when you smirk and raise your brows — eyes still shut. “Not like that, you perv. I was talking about breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.”

You tell him you’re looking forward to it, to breakfast in bed and breakfast in bed. He falls further for you somehow, despite his lingering disdain for your silly little innuendos. It’s the price you have to pay when you love someone, he figures, like when your crush gets a bad haircut or has shit music taste. 

It’s a quirk he welcomes along with your many others — your rambling and forgetfulness and social unawareness and inability to sit still. All your little idiosyncrasies weren’t obstacles he had to get over to love you, just more reasons for him to.

And it isn’t this one-sided thing, either. Most people would look at the two of you — at the dowager king and local freak — and they’d think he was doing charity work to love you. But Steve’s got peculiarities of his own. 

His best friends are a fourteen-year-old nerd and a closeted lesbian because they were the first two people in his life that didn’t judge him. He chews on the ends of pens and pencils, and his handwriting is shit because he never cared about school. He buys things without ever looking the price tag, then leaves them to collect dust in his room because he never really needed them anyway. He still feels the need to be the center of attention sometimes because the faintest hint of disregard makes him feel neglected.

These are all things you’re aware of. Most of them came with being the wealthy, popular kid from the right side of the tracks. And you liked him anyway — no, you liked him because of them. You adored him through all the heavy shit, and here he was, doing a shit job at pretending to like metal music and horror movies.

“Are you asleep?” Steve wonders after a few moments of velvet silence. He’s still looking at you, one arm propped beneath his hand and the other toying with your fingers splayed on the mattress between you. He hasn’t been able to stop looking at you.

“Almost,” you mumble in response.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Your heart stops at the innocent question, tired eyes flying immediately open and knocking you out of your fatigued stupor. 

All of a sudden, it’s 1984 again. You’re the weirdo who bites people and Steve’s royalty who’ll fuck anything that walks — and here you are, in bed with the asshole. For a moment, you expect Tommy Hagan to bust out of the closet with a tape recorder and for Steve to tell you this was all just some stupid bet.

It’s a pang of blue lightning, an ice pick to your abdomen, that lasts no more than a couple of seconds. 

Internally, you curse yourself for getting so worked up. You make a promise to yourself to work on all that — the regressing and the disbelief that comes with the not-feeling-good-enough bullshit.

“Yeah?” you finally answer.

“I don’t actually like Dio. Or Def Leppard,” he confesses, finding it hard to meet your gaze  like a child who’s been caught in a lie. He focuses on running his thumb over the irregular pattern of your chipped nailpolish. “And I don’t collect vinyls either, not really. I just… I kinda just said those things so you’d like me.”

And, compared to the web you were just spinning in your head, that’s nothing.

“Ooh,” you wince playfully. “Def Leppard I could take, but Dio? I don’t know… That might be a dealbreaker, Harrington.”

He only smiles because he can tell you’re making fun. “I could learn to like them, you know? If it means that much to you. That’s what we’re doing now, right? Loving things on purpose?”

You capture your smile with your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes sparkle at him when you nod. “Yeah… We are.”

“Which means you could learn to like football and Bruce Springsteen,” Steve jokes and shifts on the mattress so he’s closer to you. 

Your feet bump together, then entwine effortlessly. He plops his head on the same pillow you’re using. The proximity leaves your faces no more than a couple inches apart. 

You scrunch your nose, wondering if you should hide your disgust in his playful request or make a joke out of it. You don’t do either. “I could… If it means I get to keep you.”

“Keep me?” he scoffs. “Good luck, getting rid of me, Punchy.”

“Who said I wanted to, huh?”

“You will. When you get sick of me.”

He’s smiling like he’s kidding, but you can tell there’s an edge of self-loathing to his tone. 

Your hand crawls from beneath his own and settles on his stubbly jaw. You run your thumb over the cheek, effectively sealing your promise into the blushing apple of it. “I’m never gonna get sick of you, Steve Harrington.”

His brows raise. “No?”

You shake your head against the pillow, then shove the side of your face further into it when you get nervous. There’s a timid quirk to the corners of your lips and a more sheepish glint in your eye. “You don’t get sick of people you love,” you tell him.

Steve opens his mouth to retort. He wants to tell you that he gets sick of Dustin all the time, but that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love the little shit. He gets sick of milkshakes and pizza and Cheers re-runs when he consumes too much of them in a single setting, but he loves all those things too. 

You get sick of things because you love them, he reasons, because you love them too hard and you hate how much you need them.

He doesn’t get the chance to argue any of this, though.

“Not when you love them on purpose,” you clarify with a sunshine-coated grin.

That shuts him up real quick.

[joapmactavish]

imagine soap recognizing that you’re stressed out with your current work and he knows you guys can’t leave base so he sets up a blanket and pillows outside for you to stargaze -

| no warnings just fluff and jokes, reader calls ghost gay (real) , can be interpreted however you want (gn reader, f!reader, m!reader), can be platonic or romantic although my intentions are leaning on a romantic bond. dialogue color code: soap: light blue, price: purple, ghost: red, gaz: green(can you guys tell that i love them and want to put them all in my pocket) | • this is generally a softer portrayal of the guys, if u aren’t into that sorta thing that’s cool just a heads up •

“ca’mere lassie, wanna show you sumthin”

he leads you outside by the hand and you’re met with a little blanketed area on the soft grass , plush pillows and he’s even lit your favorite candles / incense - he lays down and opens his arms for you to join him and you both wrap your arms around eachother - your legs intertwined being as close as possible - feeling his heartbeat against you.

“i know there’s not much we can do here sweetness, and this may be cheesy but i know how much ye love random surprises, just wanted to give you a little change of routine tis all”

you scrunch your eyebrows at him saying it’s cheesy, “you do know i’m a sucker for anything cutesy you do johnny, but this is so sweet, look how bright the stars look! so pretty.”

“they look wonderful but they’re nothing compared to you bonnie, you’re my stars, my moon, my world, hell- the entire universe and you’ve made my life infinitely better”

you give him a pout and scooch up to give him a kiss, “nothing i say can be better than that, but just know i love you too and-“ you’re stuttering now and he chuckles “and- i agree but l- yknow- that- i-“ you take a quick pause and he nods at you teasingly, “you’re my world.”

the guys find you two outside and you end up finding yourself all together sharing the moment now, so of course you all have to adjust and make room.

your head is laying on soaps shoulder while he has his arm wrapped around you, price has his head laid against your legs, gaz is behind the 3 of you with his head on the same pillow soaps head is on but he’s laying on the opposite side and ghost is sitting criss cross (apple sauce ofc) by you all.

price lights his cigar and takes a deep sigh - tension leaving his body as he relaxes his shoulders .

“ya know y/n, you really do know how to bring us all together in your own goofy way.”

“WHAT?! I SET THIS UP?” soap replies and you gaz and ghost laugh.

“yeah was all him, not me cap’n! i swear!”

“ah yes, if it were you- there would’ve been tea.” he flicks the ash off the end of his cigar

soap rolls his eyes, “fuckin brits . . . never tired of the damn tea”

you don’t know how but you all end up out there all night - sharing jokes and stories, childhood memories, playfully making fun of eachother and cuddling like chumps, price asking you to run your hands through his scalp and huffing anytime you stop (like when a dog side eyes you as you stop petting them) and then quickly smiling when you continue - you even caught simon swinging his legs while you were sharing scary stories and you and gaz almost died of laughter

“that shit was gay as hell” and he just rolls his eyes and grunts

but what did it for soap was the fact that gaz starts snorting with his laugh, and you’re wheezing.

these men were known to be very intimidating scary beings, soldiers and fighters first - but ever since you joined them they started remembering to have more fun - being that they joined this line of work so early in their lives they lost most of the opportunity to just exist and be. after the shit they’ve been through in their lives, you manage to just strengthen the faith they have in humanity with your caring tendencies.

after a while you can hear price snoring and ghost lets out a “heh, the old man’s fell asleep”

price slurs out a tired “m’not sleepin- just resting my eyes soldier.”

“right, i too snore when i “”rest my eyes”” sir” gaz says,

you just shush them and giggle but lightly, not to stir price since he’s against you still, arm now wrapped around your leg.

[vxiphoid]

⟢ PASTRY EMPORIUM ━☆ {003.}

✑ twst boys with an s/o who enjoys cooking and what dishes they’d make! these might be a little off… even after i did my research on them🧍🏾 ft. octavinelle

PREVIOUS NEXT

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

your dish is…

COTTON CANDY CAKE BATTER FUDGE !!

♫ UNDER CONTROL - THE INTERNET

- azul is such a little goofy goober with a good amount of cooking experience but he is oh so understanding<3 he will follow your every instruction even if that means burning himself by your delicious cooking cause! idc this dude has such a sweet tooth, loves cotton candy.

- you turn around to mix the condensed milk and the melted white chocolate together and hes already (SOMEHOW) made the cotton candy into various shapes, making stars is his favorite. then you have to buy a whole different bag of cotton candy bc the shapes are too cute to ruin, now they are toppings. azul will not show you his shaping sorcery, he will watch as you try and find out how he does it though. almost cried when you made an octopus n said it was your favorite.

- HE. LOVES. COLORING. SPRINKLES. you know those sugar sprinkles? yeah, he makes those. sure, you could buy them from the store but you also could make cute messes with him and take pictures for your album. pink and blue sprinkled colored lips turn into purple tongues😼

- azul loves decorating the small fudge cakes with sugar n more cotton candy. they’re so colorful n pretty (just like him tbh) he also likes holding hands with you? if you’re only using one hand, he’s intertwining your fingers with yours. the cotton candy extract that makes the fudge taste like cotton candy? make sure you buy two, he’s downing it like its water. it’s good! the fudge comes out with such a beautiful swirl he shares some with floyd and jade but! this will never meet the menu. not that it isn’t good enough, its just that making it is special, cooking with you is special. he’d like to keep it that way

“wow, don’t you look adorable sugar-coated… pft—“

“that was the worst one yet, lovely…”

“but it was funny, huh?”

JADE LEECH

your dish is…

BROWN SUGAR MILK TEA !!

♫ BEAUTY IN DEATH - CHASE ATLANTIC

- screaming, crying, stomping my feet. jade is very good at cooking, he just likes making tea more. so what better than to make him some brown sugar boba manne. he took a little sippy sip the first time you gave it to him and he almost inhaled the rest of it.

- he’s usually not that messy when cooking with you, he does somehow find himself spilling the milk… OH! he let’s you wear his hat while you work, you have this happy little trot when you wear it. he’s made little bobas of the tsums, azul, floyd, they may be at the bottom but the fun is actually making the little bebes. jade coats the rim of your cup with water so he can cover it with brown sugar >:].

- HE’LL MAKE BOBA OF YOU IF YOU MAKE BOBA OF HIM‼️‼️ he makes a little cloud of whipped cream so you can place his boba like he’s a little cherry. forehead kisses, all the time. you could be minding your own business and he just mwah. theres something domestic about the little smooches, he cant get enough.

- he’s so happy when he gets to make the tea while the boba is boiling. he’s mixing the tea like (─‿─). also gives you a piggyback ride around the kitchen sometimes. he definitely serves you boba when he makes you breakfast in bed.

“are you making little me’s?”

“indeed i am ^o^”

“i’ll make little you’s then, we’ll match :)”

FLOYD LEECH

your dish is…

KOHAKUTOU !!

♫ YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK - KALI UCHIS

- he jus wants something to cronch on fr.. edible crystals are satisfying to bite down on. floyd loves cooking with you, its his favorite hobby <3

- he loves these things, he loves you, he loves when you make him these things!!! especially when you top them with pop rocks, he probably eats the plate too. floyd also has a potty mouth n sometimes its kinda scary… like when he was boiling the agar agar a bubble popped and burned him, its like when you put bacon on a pan. he was laughing and casually just curses “heheha, fuck! that hurt😄” like sir are you okay..?😧 he’s okay, you smooched it better.

- he likes making this because it reminds him of jade which is kinda weird because he’s gonna scarf em down anyway. he actually makes a whole different batch of agar agar to make crystals that look like actual jade so he can give a few to jade. floyd is the definition of chaotic, the kitchen will always end up messy in some way.

- his kisses are never ending, he actually steals them now, sly fucker. now his music is loud but he definitely chooses a chill playlist so he can dance with you. while the crystals are chilling, you two are playing games with each other. mostly bedwars in minecraft, bro is actually cracked its scary…

- floyd likes for you to sit between his legs with your back against his chest and play animal crossing while he feeds you and himself crystals, they taste better that way >:]

“kiss it better?”

“did you burn yourself again?”

“kiss it better? :((“

[shotorozu]

Bakugo, Shinsou, Sero, and Hawks with a fem!s/o that has galaxy eyes. She has purple-blue eyes with star patterns and constellations in them that changes when she blinks, doesn’t blush red instead her skin gets these star freckles and dust on her face and ears when flustered, and if she ever cries, her tears are hella sparkly. If she has a quirk, her quirk allows her to use Moondust which is like a sleeping powder depending on the amount but she likes to use it to help others sleep and relax (she can even make them into tea and powdered sugar for treats)

having a galactic s/o

characters : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, hanta sero, hawks | keigo takami

legend : [Y/N = your name] f!reader at the request of anon, i don’t know what to name this quirk, so i’ll just call it moondust

fic type : headcanons [fluff]

notes : you’re very creative anon :)) i like your thinking (also im sorry if i dont know how to write sero, i’ve only wrote him 2-3 times so far)

≿————-　❈　————-≾

bakugou katsuki

what is this sorcery.??

the first time he sees you, he’ll be mesmerized

i mean.. you stick out. you have literal stars and constellations in your eyes

you know how he has a nickname for everyone in class 1-A? well—

he literally can’t think of a bad nickname for you, because you’re so beautiful, and your quirk is too.

so he just sticks with dumbass

when you talk to him, he’ll always be staring at your eyes because they literally change from lilac to violet everytime you blink

like.. how is that possible? excuse you, bakugou literally has red eyes

kinda thinks you’re op ngl— even though your quirk is oddly similar to midnight sensei

but when you blush,,

you’re the prettiest person alive omg, how do you look like that everyday??

so because of this, he’ll always try to make you blush

he hates seeing you cry but your tears make it hard not to hate it

they’re so sparkly

like.. they’re so pretty wtf, you’re like a renaissance painting.

will make you train with him, because he wants to beat you at least once in his life

but it doesn’t happen immediately lol

shinsou hitoshi

again, what is this sorcery

will feel self conscious because.. how did he manage to catch such a pretty s/o?

also another person that always has his attention on your eyes since they change colors every time you blink

and the constellations, WOW (spends every moment looking at each constellation whenever you blink)

the first time he made you blush— he was in awe

wtf you’re even prettier

and that one time you ate a spicy noodle packet, and started crying— he realized that your tears sparkle

he hates seeing you cry but 😳 your tears

“do i even deserve her??”

yes you do hitoshi.

anyway— your quirk fascinates him, and if he didn’t know better, he’d assume your midnight sensei’s daughter

training with him is fun, since it’s not very combat based.

but!! since you can make tea out of your quirk, you’re practically a tea maker for shinsou

because homeboy can’t sleep, but thanks to you— he can finally catch a few hours

hawks | takami keigo

will verbally comment on how pretty your eyes are

“woah, your eyes are pretty.” it’s not subtle at all

just accept the compliment

the first time he made you blush, he was also very amazed.

and the first time you cried your sparkly tears, he was even more amazed.

is that even possible?? wow.. how can someone look that pretty

will call you his lil stardust.

your quirk reminded him of the UA teacher, and he will ask if you guys are related

“no keigo, people can have similar quirks and not be related”

“of course i knew that!”

keigo is very stressed because of hero work, and because of that— he barely gets a wink of sleep

so when he comes back to your apartment, and you suddenly sprinkle moondust on him

he’ll be like :000 this helps with my workaholic tendencies

he doesn’t want to look like he’s using you. if you’re dating him, then that says you mean a lot to him

your moondust tea puts him to sleep right away. just don’t use it when he’s carrying you up in the sky

hanta sero

he’s pretty chill overall

but!!

👁👁 he’ll stare at you when he sees you for the first time. like.. wow, they’re really, really pretty

the bakusquad will tease him about it for sure.

this boy will probably name all the constellations in your eyes everytime you blink

he can’t always do that but.. you get what i mean

“cassiopeia!”

“sero, how the hell can you see her from a far.”

he means well :))

will comfort you when you cry, but he’ll be thinking to himself “wow! she’s pretty when she cries- wait! is that a bad thing to be thinking of? i don’t want her to be sad.”

sero the latino king— will call you mi estrella

“you look beautiful as always, mi estrella”

it always makes you flustered! and speaking of flustered..

your blush makes you look extraterrestrial

and if your face gets really blushed up when you cry- it’ll knock him out

your quirk really reminds him of midnight sensei’s— so will he be amazed, yet cautious? yes.

you’re also quite op to him. and if you’re worried that he’s afraid of you— then don’t worry about that

he knows you won’t hurt him :))

the tea aspect of your quirk fills him with curiosity

“i wonder what it tastes like..”

“wanna try it out?”

“i mean- can i??”

“sure!”

will probably get drunk on moondust tea

≿————-　❈　————-≾

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing

do not plagiarize my work :))

[garbagevanfleet]

“getting started” writing advice:

I get messages pretty frequently asking me to make a post of advice on how to start writing, and I finally got around to it. Below is all I’ve got to offer you as an aspiring writer!

First and foremost, I want you to know a few things - these are the most valuable things you’ll ever hear from me. 

1. I have been writing for literally over a decade. I did not start out writing like this. I started out while I was still in middle school and had no grasp on what “good” writing was. Please, please do not expect to jump into writing and be fantastic. It takes time and practice like everything else. My best advice for improving your writing is to read. Read published works - like novels and such. This is where you’ll learn better grammar and storytelling skills. 2. Remember - this is a hobby. It’s a thing you do for fun. If a project is ever causing you grief or feels too taxing, take a break from it and ask yourself if you want to continue with it in the future. There is absolutely nothing wrong with deciding to scrap something - I do it literally all the time. You owe absolutely nothing to anyone.

3. Write what you want. There are obviously limits to this (parties that are able to consent and do so enthusiastically only) but don’t ever be afraid to write queer things. Or weird prompts. I wrote a fic for One Direction that was a weird as fuck sci-fi thing about being stuck in a video game with dinosaurs. Fanfiction is a fantastic way to explore sexuality in a safe and healthy manner, so explore away. 

Getting started: 

What’s your pairing? Is it a reader insert (using first person) or are you making up an original character? Both are perfectly fine! Start by thinking about how you envision your characters - what are their personalities like? What are their quirks and habits? How do they speak? It always helps me to assign my characters a color (demon!Jake is red, demon!Josh is purple, etc). For some reason, that’s always helped me build their character. Remember that your characters shouldn’t be perfect people - perfect characters are boring and not believable. If you’re writing about people that exist in real life, remember that you don’t have to make them exactly like that person acts. Once we turn a real person into a character, they’re exactly that - the Josh Kiszka in Brightest Blue is not the same Josh Kiszka that exists in real life and we don’t want him to be. 

What’s your plot? We know that good stories have climaxes! Exciting parts that might be good or bad. Think of your most favorite book or movie and then think about how that piece of media has a point that makes you feel uncertain - a setback in the story. Then think about how you’re going to overcome it. AU’s (or “alternative universe” fics) are my absolute favorite. Reading about Josh Kiszka as a rockstar is boring to me. Reading about Josh Kiszka as a grocery bag-boy is delicious. 

Warnings. This is the VERY most important part of putting writing out there in my opinion. It’s imperative that you warn the audience about the things that could be triggering. These things include: death (of humans or animals), assault, abuse, blood, alcohol, drugs (list each drug), sexual content. Do not ever worry about spoiling your plot by adding warnings - I promise you that the safety of your readers is far more important than the integrity of your plot.

Writing smut. It’s not for everyone. It is ABSOLUTELY okay for you to not want to write it. Don’t think that it makes your story boring or immature without smut - never push yourself to write things you’re uncomfortable with. I write a lot of smut because I enjoy doing so and it’s a good outlet for my own sexuality. Don’t push yourself into it. 

Once you’ve written your story, ask a friend to edit it! This is called “beta-ing” in the fic world. Always make sure the person that you ask to do so actually wants to - always always give them an out (“hey, would you mind editing my fic? It’s totally okay if not”). It’s important to remember that these amazing people are doing it for free and owe you absolutely nothing. Always be grateful and respectful of their time and energy. 

My last bit of advice is to learn how and where to publish. Tumblr can be a little tricky, but there are a few things you want to keep in mind. Always familiarize yourself with the “read more” option. If you don’t know what that means, it essentially hides the majority of your fic on peoples’ dash so they don’t have to scroll through thousands of words if they don’t want to. There are tons of very helpful people in the fandom, so pick one you think is nice and ask for help if you need it. 

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Welcome To The Family (6/???)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / here

Yandere EraserMic household x reader

Fun fact- Tadao was a sudden decision I made up on the spot after chapter 3 and wasn’t expecting to really make him a character other than a mentioned person with a mold/fungus quirk. I did though, and already love him as an OC more than I should. Oops. 

It might be a long while before the next chapter. I think I may have drained myself a bit from focusing on this story so much. 

Warnings- swearing, slight coercion I think? Not really sure but better safe than sorry. 

I promise the darker stuff is coming soon. 

------------------------------------

I wake up to someone calling me. Hitoshi? Why is he calling me at… 9 in the morning? Come on dude, I want to sleep more for dinner tonight. My fault for hanging out with Tadao a bit later last night than usual. He’s started walking with me to our apartment for the past few days. I wonder why we haven’t hung out until now. Meanwhile, Ryo and I seemed to drift apart. They refuse to even look at me now when I saw them last night. 

Ugh, might as well answer it. “Hey, Hitoshi. You need something?” I tiredly slur from just waking up. 

“Sorry for waking you…” Apologized the familiar voice of Eri. Wait, Eri? Why does she have Hitoshi’s phone? The wonder why she has his phone wakes me up a bit more. 

“Oh, hey, Eri. Is something wrong?” A slight panic enters me in the possibility something bad could have happened to one of the guys. “Wait, is everyone okay?” 

“We’re good. Just wanted to talk a bit with you before tonight.” Pipes up the familiar voice of Hitoshi in the background. 

Relief floods me. “That’s good. What about?” 

“Our dads!” Eri cheerfully informs. 

My eyes narrow in confusion. “What about them?” 

“What do you think of them?” Hitoshi asks. Huh? Why does this need to be talked about now? Maybe because more likely than not the two adults are asleep, and won’t hear the conversation? 

I’m too tired to be filtered right now, so whatever comes to mind is whatever is going to be said. “They’re… An interesting two, to say the least. Hizashi seems like someone I can rely on to cheer me up pretty easily if I’m ever down, and after that day Shouta was sick, I realize Shouta’s secretly a lot more caring than he lets on. Still wouldn’t want to pi- anger him.” Ugh, it’s too early. I nearly just swore with Eri there! Well, saying “piss him off” wouldn’t have been that bad, but she needs to keep that innocence at least for a while yet. 

Hitoshi laughs, probably catching on with what I almost said. “Seen it first-hand with his class. Can’t say I recommend it either.”

“What about looks?” Eri suddenly asks, catching me off-guard. What do their looks have to do with anything? They’re also a married couple, so whatever I think is invalid anyways. 

“Well, had this weird thought of wondering what Hizashi would look like with his hair fully down when we went to the festival, but that’s really not something that I need to tell him. It’s something I probably shouldn’t be wondering in the first place.”

“What’s the problem in wondering that? It’s just hair.” 

“Says the one who always looks like he stuck his head out a car window and hair decided to stay that way.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” 

I go back onto the topic. “Otherwise, I’m not really sure what to talk about with them. It’s their choices of what they wear. Though it IS pretty funny imagining Hizashi forcing Shouta to wear something he normally wouldn’t.”

“It’s happened more than once before.” 

I tiredly let out a laugh. “I believe it.”  

“Daddy made him wear a dress!” 

An almost inhuman sound comes out of me at the thought of Shouta deeply frowning with a strapless hot pink dress forced onto him, and the only reason he does it is Hizashi would probably keep pestering him otherwise. 

“Maybe sometime we could get him to do it again with you here. It’s quite a thing to see.” 

“Oh, really? How did he not kill you for laughing?”

“He almost did,” he replies jokingly. 

“If he tries to attack me when I’m there, you’re taking the blow.” I joke back. 

He goes silent for a moment. “He wouldn’t dare. If he did, he’d have an angry little girl scolding him.”

“Toooshiiii!”

“What? You know I’m right.” 

“Hmph.” 

“Anyway, want to tell them what you’ll wear?”

“No! It’s a surprise!”

“Right back at you two,” I inform the slightly bickering duo.

----------------------------

We both hung up after a bit more of talking about tonight. I could swear there was someone talking in the background for a second, but I brushed it off as the T.V. Eri was probably watching something earlier and forgot to lower the volume. 

After playing on my computer for a while since it’s close to my bed, I decided to just get up and get ready. There are not many fancy things I have, so it’s quite limited on what to wear. Hopefully, they don’t mind if it’s a bit more casual than fancy. There’s plenty of time to shop for something, but I’m honestly too lazy to go anywhere. Just something of my favorite color and slightly more fancy than my daily clothes should work. 

I have to dig much deeper into my closet to find said clothing from not wearing it too often. 

One of my favorite color is grabbed. Nope, that’s not it. 

I move a few more. Wait, there it is! I move a few more pieces of clothing and grab it, pulling it out. Hopefully, it still fits. Welp, time to try. I take off my pajamas. 

.

.

.

.

Like a glove. Perfect! 

Just to make sure there are no new forgotten holes or something, I look at myself in my body mirror. Huh, I actually look pretty good in this! I might have to wear it more often. Something feels like it’s missing though. Maybe a ring or something would help? 

I look over to the select few rings I have, including the forgotten one Ryo gave me. My heart slightly twinges at remembering they gave it as a best friends type of ring years ago. A ring with real blue topaz fitting my middle finger. 

Might as well wear it. I slip it on and decide to leave my room, though they won’t be here for a while yet. Maybe Tadao will be around. 

My body instinctively starts looking around for the familiar- oh, not again. Does he LIKE sleeping on the floor in the hall or something? I walk up to his sleeping form. I gently nudge him to move with my foot. 

He groans, and curls his head deeper onto his arm, also bringing his legs up so he’s a ball. “Come on dude, I know your quirk is related to mold and all, but you’re not supposed to BECOME it.” 

“I am one with the floor… I shall be the floor…” He mumbles, probably sleep talking.  

I nudge him harder, making him open his eyes to look up at me. “Heyyy Y/N. What time is it?” He sluggishly asks. 

I check my phone. “Already half-past noon.” 

That got his attention. Both of his eyes snapped open as he shot to sit up. He grabs his rather cracked phone and looks at it. There are a few messages on the screen without him unlocking it. They’re impossible to read as he seems frantic after looking at them. “Already!? Man, I gotta get ready! I’ll be late for work!” 

I don’t even get the chance to ask him anything since he gets to his feet and sprints off past my door, probably to his. 

Glancing at Ryo’s door, the thought of checking on them arises. No, they’re deciding on acting out like this. Crawling to them could only continue this childish way again at some point. Ugh, what to do now though? It will be boring to just sit around for the next few hours. The park could be good for a few hours. 

The villains around though? Nah. Welp, more computer time.

Familiar brown hair in the corner of my eye catches my attention before returning to my door. It’s the woman that glared at me with Hizashi at the studio. What’s she doing around here? Never saw her around before, and she doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to like parties. Funny if she’s attracted to Hizashi like he told me. 

She keeps her glare on me as she… Knocks on Ryo’s door? Oh hell no. There’s no way Ryo is hanging out with someone like that. I’m proven wrong though as Ryo opens the door and pulls them in without looking at me. 

I- What? What’s going on lately?

Also, okay, what the ever-loving fuck Ryo!? 

Calm down, give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the woman hasn’t told Ryo anything about my work, and maybe it can just be a sudden meeting they did at one point, and it’s an opposites attract type of friendship. After all, I haven’t really been around. They were bound to try to find someone else to hang out with I suppose. Should this be a concern to bring up with Hizashi and Shouta though? 

I stand there still staring at Ryo’s door and blink confusedly. They couldn’t have found anyone better to hang out with? Even a villain would have been better than her in my opinion. Sure, more trouble from me being around two- basically three- heroes could arise, but I’d be willing to keep that kind of secret for them. But this? This gives me a bad feeling.

What if she’s the reason Ryo is acting so odd? 

Next Sunday will be the day to get some answers from them. If they will talk to me, that is. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Time seems to slip by while being on my computer. My phone notifies me of a text message. I look at it to see it’s from Hizashi. 

“Hitoshi’s coming in to get ya! We’re waiting!” My eyes widen noticing it’s already past six at night. 

I try to text him ASAP to not let Hitoshi come in. They won’t be happy with my living place. “That will be fine, call him off. I’ll be out shortly.” 

“Too late! Sorry!” 

I sigh. He doesn’t even know which one mine is! I put my computer away and quickly left. Looking left and right, there’s familiar purple hair far down on the right. Obviously, it’s Hitoshi. He is staring with great disgust at the peeling walls and ripped-up flooring.  Oh boy, it’s probably a disaster with what is about to happen in the vehicle now. 

The hallway is rather dimly lit now, making it slightly hard to see, but it’s easy to tell he’s wearing a suit matching his eye color. I’m feeling pretty underdressed now. 

“Hey, Hitoshi. You could have waited outside. Uh… You probably should have no offense.” 

He glares at a piece of wall that falls off onto the floor. “How do you live in this?” 

I shrug. “Eh, you get used to it,” I noticed his frustrated expression. He’s about to ask me why I don’t move or something since I clearly could with my pay. “And before you say anything, I rather like it here. It’s where a lot of my closest friends are.”   

His eyes narrow at me. “You could still visit instead of living here.” 

Someone jumps upstairs, making the place shake, and a piece of the ceiling on this level chips off and falls next to the wall piece on the floor. 

“That’s new,” I comment. It’s true, the ceiling has never fallen before. Makes me wonder when this whole building is going to collapse. Bit worried for my friends here now.

Hitoshi looks at me like I just told him the world is going to end tomorrow. 

I start walking to the exit, having Hitoshi follow behind me too closely for my taste. Makes sense if he’s doing it for my protection, but he obviously doesn’t know these people as I do. He almost could be felt against my back. “You mind standing back a bit? You’re rather close.”

He does, but just barely. 

It doesn't take long for us to get to the vehicle. Just like before, I get in the center and hug Eri. The slight light in the car makes it hard to see her dress, but I'm pretty sure it's a bright silverish blue. The light wasn't on long enough to notice the two up front. 

They do seem to notice Hitoshi in a slightly on edge type of way. For the moment the light was on. 

"What's wrong, little hypno-man?" 

"Their apartment is not fitting to live in."

"What?" Hizashi's tone almost drastically changes. I'm glad I can't see them right now. I focus on the scenery past Hitoshi to try ignoring the growing unease of him whistleblowing to them. 

"It's falling apart. A part of the wall fell to the floor. The inside is much worse than the outside." 

"Why are you still living there? You can easily move with the money we give you." Shouta pipes up. 

"Because I like living there. It's a walking distance from your place, and all my friends are there."

"You could visit them some other time if you moved. We'd pay a bus for you if needed." 

"Exactly! Or I could drive ya to our place! It wouldn't be a problem, and it would give me a little somethin' to do while the grump wakes up in the morning!" 

I don't feel comfortable at the thought of having to rely on them like that. They're already so busy themselves, it really wouldn't be fair to them despite what they say. 

“Uh… no. Thanks for the offer, but my place is good for now.”

The air is rather tense, telling me that they want to push more on the subject, but decide not to for now. 

I decided to bring up what happened earlier.  “Remember that bad woman from before?”

“You mean Chiyo?” Shouta spits her name with such hate, someone would think he’d murder her if he could. Hizashi must have told him about our meeting in his studio. Wait, Isn’t that a first name?

As if reading my mind, Hizashi answers for Shouta. “She doesn’t deserve the respect of last name. What about her?” 

“I discovered today she might be hanging out with one of my closest friends that doesn’t seem to be too happy with me lately. Isn’t it a bit of a concern she might tell them that I babysit for you guys?” 

“That’s confidential information. Like it was said to you before you started, you can’t tell anyone our identities. They can get into serious trouble if they do, and they signed a contract accepting they wouldn’t.” Shouta replies. 

“That’s good to know.” I say, sounding relieved. They could be told how Ryo thinks they’re bad parents for me babysitting so often, but that’s something that probably doesn’t need to be brought up. Especially if she can’t tell Ryo about it. 

Hizashi pulls up and parks in front of the restaurant we must be dining in. wait- fuck, I’ve heard of this place. It’s one of the most expensive restaurants around here! We exit and enter the restaurant. The first thing I noticed was how well-dressed the two men were. Shouta was wearing a navy blue suit, white undershirt, and a light brown tie. Oddly, he’s also wearing glasses. When did he need glasses? 

Hizashi was wearing a cream-colored suit with a dark grey undershirt and a tie matching his eye color. Looking at the four of them and the others around, I am… severely underdressed. Doesn’t feel much better with everyone that stares at me from their tables for a moment. 

Wait- Hizashi’s. Hair. Is. Fully. Down. I whip my head towards Hitoshi and glare in betrayal. 

He notices with a smirk, and puts his hands in front of himself in mock-defense. “Don’t look at me. He was there then, just didn’t speak.” 

My eyes narrow. “So it really WASN’T the T.V.” Seriously though!? That’s so embarrassing! He must have heard everything! 

Him and Hizashi chuckle at me, making me feel worse.

A woman comes up from the counter. “Please tell me the name of your reservation.” 

“The Aizawa’s.” Um… I’m not exactly a part of this family? Well, it does make sense though I guess just to do a last name. Hizashi smirks at Shouta while he glares in return. 

“Right this way please.” She starts to lead the five of us to a table farther in the back. The enormous chandeliers overhead from the really tall ceiling are slightly intimidating if I’m to be honest. Each crystal is taller than Hizashi from the top of his hair in his hero costume to his feet. 

The white and gold walls of the place give a surprisingly calming type of effect. It’s rather cool in here as well. Probably to help combat the ones who wear layers of clothes to be more fancy or something.  

“You couldn’t have chosen anything else?” Shouta hisses quietly enough for the woman not to hear, but I’m close enough that I can. I’m right between them from behind while Hitoshi and Eri are behind me. I can swear Hitoshi keeps trying to nudge me forward closer to them. 

“Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it babe! Besides, you and I both know you’re known much less than me! This way they won’t know us!” He leans even closer to Shouta. “And don’t deny it, you know you like the thought of me bein’ called an Aizawa~” 

I can see red start to cover the side of Shouta’s face even though he tries his best to hide and prevent it. Ha! Now he’s the one to be embarrassed! 

I let out a chuckle, making Hizashi turn and give me a toothy grin. 

We get to a table with booth seats. The color of them is surprisingly similar to Eri’s dress. 

I go to sit with Hitoshi and Eri, but like before, Hizashi grabs my wrist and has me sit between him and Shouta. Why do you keep doing this to me dude!? Shouta is on my right by the wall with Hizashi on my left by the opening. 

Eri is sitting by the wall with Hitoshi by the opening in front of us. I didn’t notice before, but her dress has some candy apple red jewels the shape of diamonds, adorning the dress even more than it already was. Must be new since it’s never been seen by me before.  

… I don’t like the closeness of the two men beside me again. Saying it is uncomfortable is an understatement. A difference than before is the heat of their thighs radiating through their pants onto mine. 

The woman hands us menus. “Someone will be here to take your orders shortly.” 

I try to brush them off while looking at the menu. 

“Hey Y/N, are ya datin’ anyone?” 

“Maybe.” They don’t need to know I’m not. 

“That’s a yes or no question.” Shouta states with slight annoyance. He must have forgotten I told him I’m not the day he was sick.  

“They better not be a villain. We’d hate to have to do something to you and them. Better be honest, you’re not looking the best right now.” Hitoshi accuses. 

What the heck Hitoshi!? You’re just going to turn on me like this!? Why I ought to come over there and smack the back of your head myself! 

My saving grace as the waiter comes- Tadao!? This is where he works!? He comes up to our table with a notepad in front of him. "Hello, I’m Ito, and I’ll be your waiter for tonight. What can I get you started with?” 

“Tadao, you work here?” 

His head snaps up from the notepad, and looks at me. “Oh hey, Y/N!” His face becomes a smirk. “What happened to calling me glowstick?” 

“Well, you’re not really glowing right now in this light, are you?”

“Ha, you got me there.” 

The three men look between us with some look I don’t really understand. 

“Ya know each other?” 

“You could say we’re close.” Tadao informs. They grow rather deep frowns at the news.

He clears his throat and brings his notepad up. “What drinks could I start you guys with?” We each tell him our drinks and he writes them down. “All right, drinks coming right up!” He leaves to go get them. 

“He’s one of the reasons I don’t move out of my apartment. Especially now. We’ve become really close recently.” 

“You should stay away from him. He seems like bad news.” Hitoshi informs. 

??? huh? “Why, do you know he has a villain record or something?” 

“He could be using you. Stay away from him or we might have to make sure he doesn’t do anything.” 

Okay, THAT pisses me off. “First of all, you guys can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with outside of babysitting hours. Second of all, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could be less judging of him, because he has never done anything even slightly villainous whenever we met.” My slightly edged tone makes them back off the topic. I wanted to add third of all being he walks with me at night to our apartment place, but that seems like a bad idea if their reaction is this so far. 

It grows awkwardly silent between us all for a moment. Maybe I should have kept the others to myself too, but damn it, they need to have more respect for my decisions they were never a part of, and have no need to be a part of. 

Tadao comes with our drinks. He places them down, and Hizashi immediately takes a big drink of his.

“Here you guys go, and one drink for one special person.” He jokingly winks at me. 

I roll my eyes in response. “Sometimes I truly wonder if I hate you.” I tease.

He rolls his eyes in return. “Admit it, you know you love me.”

Hizashi chokes on his drink. I don’t help him from still being a bit upset. He should be fine anyways after a bit. 

He does, and is able to manage keeping his quirk down as well. 

“Do I?” I question teasingly. 

The three men glare at him. Sheesh, what’s their problem? 

He seems rather uncomfortable by it and leaves in a rush immediately after taking our orders. After I almost had a heart attack from the beyond insane prices, of course. Even the cheapest thing is over half the money I’m given a day for babysitting. 

I’m getting pretty upset with these guys right now. Starting to wonder if they got hit with some odd quirk again or something. 

That calms me down a bit since it would kind of make sense that’s why they’re acting odd. How long will it last though? Better not be long. I don’t know if I can handle them like this without losing my mind. 

“Hey, Y/N. We have something for you,” Hitoshi pipes up, and nods towards Hizashi. 

“Right!” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a… necklace? It has my favorite type of jewel in it, encased behind and around the edges with what looks like real gold. A different shine is on it, like something is covering the gold to prevent it from easily being destroyed by weather or wear. The shape is in a rather large teardrop. It looks custom-made as well. Never seen anything even close to what this looks like before. 

“It’s a gift!” Eri cheerfully chimes in.

“That she helped us pick for you.” Shouta informs. 

Please don’t tell me it’s authentic. It looks real though. I can’t even begin to imagine the price of what it must have cost to create it if it is real. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this! It feels too much like I’m just using you guys if I do!” 

The three of them frown. Even Eri seems a bit disappointed. 

Eri asking me my favorite jewel kind of makes sense now, but why would they want to give this to me? 

“C’mon, let’s put it on ya!” He hands it over to Hitoshi and stands up, pulling me to stand up with him. Hitoshi stands as well. 

“Did you guys not hear me? I- I can’t accept it!” 

Hizashi shakes his head. “Don’t be so worried, dear little lovesong! We want you to have it! Ya can’t just say no, we spent too much for it to go to waste now!” 

Hitoshi goes behind me with the necklace and is able to put it on while I’m still rather reluctant to accept such a gift.

Eri’s eyes almost seem to sparkle when the clasp gets shut on it. “You look amazing!”  

I freeze in my tracks to notice everyone is staring at us yet again. This time with slightly different reactions. A couple of them seem to be with envy, making me want to shrivel up and hide in a hole, and others seem to be appreciative I have something more expensive than my clothes now or something.  

At least Shouta seems to give me mercy by pulling me back down in the booth and glaring at them all in such a way that they all stop staring. I’m feeling a bit like a ragdoll at this point. 

Hitoshi joins him, making sure they truly stop. The glare combined of those two could probably curdle the blood of All Might himself. 

The restaurant seems to grow quiet between all of us. 

I decide to escape by using the bathroom. Hizashi didn’t have time to sit back down before it was necessary. “Stay here, it won’t take me long.” They still seem reluctant to let me go alone. 

Getting to the bathrooms, I didn’t have to go, just wanted to get out of the stares and whispers for a little bit. Despite the men’s glares, of course there was still going to be gossip of someone in here who looks so out of place. 

“Hey, Y/N, be careful around them, alright? They’re pretty strange.” Pipes up the familiar voice of Tadao behind me. 

I play dumb. He probably shouldn’t know I know they must have been hit with some kind of quirk. “How do you know? They could just be being cautious since their children are with.”

“I admit, I did watch you a bit at the festival. More so the men you were with when they came. Something about them isn’t... “ He seems to be struggling with figuring out how to explain it. “It’s wrong. I just can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Again, just be careful, alright?” 

I just nod and enter the bathroom. 

A bit after cooling off, I go back to the dinner table, them all still waiting and chatting about school. Well, Shouta being nearly silent as usual. Hizashi quickly stands up to let me sit between them again. Ugh, I really don’t want to. 

Yet I do, just to be kind. The least I can do is sit through this since they went through the effort of such a gift, even though to me it seems highly unnecessary. 

Tadao comes with our food not much later with a secret frown on his face. He’s smiling, but I’ve learned him well enough by now it’s worry he has instead of a cheerful personality. It slightly drops to reveal his true emotions when he notices the guys glaring at him yet again. He doesn’t say a word, just drops all of the food off and leaves. 

This feels like a really ruined dinner, even though this food is incredibly good. The atmosphere has definitely become shit. I seem to be the only one to notice. Hizashi looks over towards me and gives me another grin, not giving much comfort. What’s worse is every time I stop for a moment and rest my hand on my lap, Shouta seems to try to grab it. It led me to just keeping the utensil for my dinner in my hand. 

I’ll have to apologize to Tadao for their behavior tomorrow. Easier said than done since I still can’t exactly tell him who they are. Cursed contract. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

taglist-

@dabi-s-whore, @angelicblackwolf, @fuegy-fuegy   

Double fun fact- Did you know slapping someone’s back if they’re choking is actually worse than letting them try to get it out themselves, especially if it’s food? The food can actually get lodged deeper in their throat at the impact. Huh, First Aid is quite interesting.

[yourmcu]

Mesmerized (ii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax​ said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,551

A/n: basically a day out with Natasha. you like having her around. she likes having you around. Part 2/? (more notes at the end of the fic!)

Warnings: mostly fluff, but ending’s pretty angsty (help), some thor fluff in the beginning, jealous!nat if you squint

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

gif not mine!! credits to the owner^^

After Natasha left your room she immediately goes straight to hers. She barely falls asleep.

She stares at the ceiling, absorbed in her own thoughts. She tries to shake away the heat rushing to her face whenever the moment you kissed her on the cheek replays on her mind. All it took is someone like you to get one of the toughest people in the compound turn into mush.

She never believes in the ‘love at first sight’ bullshit because, well, it is bullshit. It’s impossible to love someone you just met. But who knows, right? You might just be an exception.

No, Natasha frowns. I just like her... a lot. It’s different.

The next morning, her run consists of her planning out the date day with you, where she’d take you first and stuff. She stops by the front gate of the compound, suddenly worrying. She wants to impress you. But what if you don’t like what she had in store? What if you think she's boring?

You're the type of person that almost likes everything and you’d express it kindly if you don’t. Boring you should be the last thing on Natasha’s mind.

Natasha walks into the kitchen to hydrate herself but halts once she saw the mess you and Thor had all over the counters.

“Wait, hold on- no, that’s - oh god, Thor, that’s too much batter!” You smack him on the arm and laugh, tilting your head a bit to figure out how you’d get the large pancake out of the pan.

“Oops,” Thor says sheepishly, turning around to put the bowl back on the counter, noticing Natasha’s confusion. “Oh don’t worry, Natasha, we’ll clean up after we’re done.”

The mention of the redhead makes you turn as well. “Good morning, Nat.” You beam. Normally, Natasha would sent a glare to anyone who calls her that, someone who isn’t a close friend, but with you... instead of a glare her eyes light  up. Giving you a small smile, she greets you back.

“I thought you were going out?” She questions, passing by you to reach the fridge.

“We were, but IHOP’s closed, under maintenance they said,” Thor sighs and you hum in response. “It’s quite alright. I heard you guys are going out anyway-”

Natasha lowers the water bottle from her lips, staring at him. “You heard?”

You spin around to clean up after turning off the stove. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ you mouth to her, which makes her think Steve somehow knows of it already.

Thor lets out a laugh, grabbing the whole pan and twiddling his fork, “you two have fun.” He winks and walks out of the room.

-----

“They were so cute,” you look back at the newly engaged couple near the window of the restaurant. “And really, you didn’t have to pay. I can pay you back.”

Later that afternoon the both of you headed out. Natasha parked her car somewhere and since it was a nice day, not too hot or anything, you both strolled around the city to find a place to have brunch.

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m the one who asked you out.” Natasha chuckles, remembering the way you pouted in there begging her to let you pay at least for your own food.

You huff, smiling. “Fine. But I’m getting you back.”

So far you were having a good time with her. You got to know each other more, she told you stories about some of the team’s missions from other countries which were relatively rare, her first encounters with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, and in return you told her some about your out-of-this-world missions with the guardians.

And no you didn’t tell her about the history of moon rocks or some shit, nor did you promise to bring her back some. Who even collects those nowadays? Natasha was more interested about your early life, on Earth, which you were thankful for. You were taken away from your father (the only parent you preferred and loved) who was pure human one day by your alien-freak of a mother which you inherited your fire powers from.

You don’t like talking about it. But with her you're surprisingly comfortable.

Natasha smirks. “So we’re going out again sometime?”

“Of course we are.” After two seconds of pure confidence you wish you didn’t say that out loud. “Well, you know, I won’t force you to something you don’t want it’s - it’s your call.”

You're in the middle of telling her about your favorite bar and diner, the one your father always takes you as a child and you even paid a visit there the last time you were on Earth.

“Huh. Isn’t that the one that just closed?” She recalls

“No, really?” You drag out the ‘no’, sighing. “They’re the best. They make their own iced tea and beer and stuff... and - oh!”

You feel something rub against your ankle: a fluffy dog who's looking up at you with its tongue out and its tail was wagging wildly. Natasha raises her eyebrows, her eyes trailing to the abandoned leash behind it.

“Hey there,” you kneel down to pet it with caution just incase its intention is to bite you. But it seems to be happy and tame. “Look, Nat, s’adorable.” Natasha chuckles briefly and starts looking around for a person who looks frantic and is finding, calling a dog. 

“This fella belongs to the animal center.” You caress the dog behind its ear while you read the information on its collar.

It isn’t that far, it seems like the dog just escaped as well because the guy running the center was unaware of its absence.

“Thanks!” Said guy smiles in appreciation, reaching out to take the leash out of your hand. Natasha’s mind is focused on how the guy looks at you for the first time. It's the exact same look she gave you that night. Mesmerized, as if it was love at first sight. She doesn’t miss how his hand brushes yours, completely intentional. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t returned him. The pups here just grew out of their mom’s milk and are very hyper. It’s a lot of work.”

You're completely oblivious to this, you’re just glad the dog is back to where he belongs.

“No problem, he’s very sweet.” You smile politely. “Are they up for adoption? It would really help you out if they were, you know, and this one here is well behaved.”

At this point Natasha’s just eyeing the guy like he’d pounce on you any minute now. He’s definitely into you and she doesn’t like it.

“You’re welcome to stop by anytime,” he grins, ignoring your suggestion. “Can I have your number?”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone...” you trail off.

“That’s right, she doesn’t.” Natasha steps in and she catches the guy off guard and surprised that the Black Widow is actually with you the whole time. Natasha intertwines her hand with yours, pleased with his dumbfounded reaction. “We’ll be on our way now.”

You didn’t expect that but you weren’t complaining. Her hands were soft, and it brought this comforting feeling you couldn’t explain. But you clear your throat once the both of you are a few blocks away from the center.

“Sorry, he gave me an off vibe,” Natasha mutters and removes her hand from yours.

“Don’t be, I appreciate you looking out,” you smiles. Her car was getting into view now. “If it helps you sleep at night though, he wasn’t my type.” You joke.

Turns out you weren’t completely oblivious.

Natasha merely scoffs, getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

After the dog incident you both drove around different parts of the city. You went to a different mall to stroll around, commenting on anything you both saw that would somehow lead to a stupid story that happened at some point in your lives.

A local artsy bookstore, not gonna lie Natasha liked reading a good book when she had the time. So did you. It was nice to know that she’s the type of person who liked reading. Quill always got annoyed with you whenever he saw you reading silently in the ship (but when was he not annoyed with you?). The only ones that was willing to try and read back in space were Mantis and Gamora, bless her soul.

“These are good,” you mutter to Natasha. “All my books are on the ship, I think, but if I get to them I’ll let you read my favorite one... if you want.”

Last stop of the day. Natasha claims it’s a surprise.

“I don’t do well with surprises,” you whine, holding back a smile. “Just tell me.”

“No. And besides, we’re already here.” Natasha chuckles.

Your eyes light up on how stunning the scenery was. An edge of the cliff and below is a beach that doesn’t look like it’s visited by people everyday. The beautiful sunset, the sky made up of purple, orange and almost pink magnifies the calmness of the waves crawling gently to the shore.

“I always come here whenever I need to,” she says silently and exhales, walking over to you. “It’s the perfect place to go whenever those idiots get on my nerves.” You laugh lightly at her reasoning.

Natasha pats a spot on the grass beside her. She holds her gaze on you as you sit down, sighing. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she manages to stop staring at you and look up at the sky instead. It's getting darker by the minute, the orange and pinkness started to fade as the sun went down, all of it replaced by light purple, darker shade of blue.

You're used to different colored skies. It would always vary and depend on what planet you were on, plus you always see those stars shimmering up above, so your focus is on the water and the waves. The way they move calms you.

“Thank you for today,” you murmur. “I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t expect any of this happening.”

Natasha hums. “I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Of course not, I think you’re very interesting and you’re fun to be with.” You say genuinely.

Once the sun is fully down and the moon had taken over the sky, the both of you get up to head back to the compound. “Eating out here would’ve been nice but Steve’s in charge with dinner, he wouldn’t be too happy if he knew we already ate.” The car ride back is silent, but the good kind. A content, comfortable one.

Okay so, your stay took more than a few weeks. 

You grew close with the amazing group of people, plus your good relationship with Natasha just kept growing and... just got better.

Thor stayed too because he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t mind. Rocket left one pod for both of you to use that’ll send you to wherever Quill’s ship was up there. 

You and Natasha went out when you had the chance, taking turns treating each other to stuff. You learned that Thor included your books when he packed you a bag, and now Natasha was borrowing one of them.

Sometimes you’d join them on missions. You did a great job every time, not wanting to be a burden to a team you weren’t officially in. Sometimes you’d join Steve into a sparring session at the compound’s gym.

Speaking of which, he’s treating both you and Natasha as if you’re dating.

“Would you look at that, your girl managed to give me a bruise. She’s a keeper.” Steve tells Natasha.

“You totally deserve that.”

You also started sparring with Natasha. And Tony caught on with the whole ‘dating’ thing from Steve.

“Oooh, am I interrupting something here?” Tony smirks. He's going back and forth visiting the compound and coming home to his wife and daughter at their cabin. It's working out though. “I think the mat’s unsanitary. Take this to the bedroom.”

“Oh shut up, Y/N was just working on her tackling.” Natasha grunts, leaving you sprawled  on the mat, exhausted. “It’s getting sloppy. We’ll go again in a minute.”

-----

“Y/N,” The devastating tone of Natasha’s voice makes you look up. “Quill’s calling. He’s looking for you.”

“What?” She doesn’t answer but instead motions you to follow. In her office is a hologram of your fellow half-human and he looks distraught.

You step in front of the hologram so he can see you. 

“What happened to a few weeks, L/N? It’s been almost three months!” Quill says. “Look, come back, bring Thor with you. Our distress signal goes off almost every day and we can’t keep doing this without both of you.”

“Alright, how much time do I have before you lose your cool?” You reply sarcastically, but you're also worried and didn’t want to leave. You know better than to argue with the guy.

Natasha doesn’t want you to leave so suddenly. There’s limited communication between you and her once you go back up there. She grew attached to you.

Quill gives you an obvious look. “As soon as possible! Just - just get back here, please?” Then he abruptly ends the call.

You roll your eyes and left the room to pack, barely noticing Natasha hunched over, visibly sad and anxious that you’re leaving.

She loves you, and now you’re leaving without that knowledge.

You told Thor about it when he passed by the open door of your room. He didn’t look thrilled to be leaving so suddenly. After packing everything up (on his part it wasn’t that much) he offered to carry your bag for you as you said your farewells.

“Sorry guys, duty calls,” you sigh, hugging everyone. “Seeing as Tony’s not here just tell him I’ll miss him or something.”

“Will you come visit soon?” Wanda asks as she pulls away from your hug.

“Definitely.” You turn your head when Steve nudges you, nodding his head to the direction where Natasha is shifting, pacing, avoiding any eye contact.

You walk over to her. She tries holding back tears as you did. She grew attached to you and now you’re leaving. “Hey Nat,” you cup her face, trying to get her to look at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave either, not right now, but-”

Natasha kisses you, pulling you close to her as much as possible. Tears fully streaming down her face. She’s never felt this way before, about anybody, for a long time.

But let’s face it, you both know you loved each other. Maybe the both of you just knew that if you got together, it’ll be extremely hard for your relationship once you left. The long distance relationship thing. Even if you aren’t, it's already too painful for Natasha, like she's caught off guard or something. None of you knew that today's your last night on Earth.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha whispers after pulling away.

You smile sympathetically, wiping her tears away with your thumb. “You know I’ll come back, right, pretty girl?” Natasha exhales shakily and pulls you into a hug.

“You better.”

----

I found a song for this fic-series whatever, please I’m so proud of myself the song reminds me of this story

I’M ANNOYED THAT I HAVEN’T PUT IN MUCH ABOUT THE READER’S FIRE ABILITIES IN THIS ONE BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANYWAY (they’re on a date she wouldn’t need it for anything)

[sfb123]

Stealing Moments

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: The Royal family spends the afternoon taking part in some pre-Easter (or preaster, if you will) activities.

Rating: G - I’m not going to sugar coat it (sugar is the last thing this story needs), this is some majorly fluffy stuff here. Even for me, and I’ve produced some pretty fluffy work.

Word Count: 1,947

A/N: So this story is a triple threat:

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” Which will appear in bold.

I am also participating in the @choicesaprilchallenge2021, day 3 teal. That prompt will appear in italics.

I am also participating in @trraw, day 2 Liam. That prompt will appear in the form of a handsome and charming King.

A/N 2: This is an idea that I thought of while I was writing my upcoming Uncle Drake fic (you’ll see that one on Sunday), so I decided to write it up as a little prequel to that. Thank you to @jessiembruno for encouraging me to take my crazy throw away ideas and make them into something, and also by contributing this adorable moodboard. You are a Canva master. To think, not too long ago you hated it and cursed it out on the regs!

Tags: You know the drill, they’re down below. I hope you get it! If you want to be added or removed, let me know!

Liam sat in his study, wrapping up some paperwork before his next meeting when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Bastien entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Sir, Lord Neville is demanding an audience with you. Immediately.” 

“Of course he is. Tell him I am unavailable, and to make an appointment with my assistant before he leaves.” 

“I did. I explained to him that you have an important afternoon meeting that could not be rescheduled. He didn’t appear to care.” Bastien chuckled to himself. This wasn’t the first time Neville had tried to weasel his way into an urgent meeting with the King.

Liam let out a deep breath as he stood, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t. That’s fine, I need to get to my meeting anyway. I will tell him myself.” 

Almost immediately upon exiting his study, Neville was in his face. “Your Majesty, I have an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention-”

Liam held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m sure you do, Lord Neville. Unfortunately, I am on my way to a very important meeting, so I am unable to sit with you right now. Please see my assistant on your way out, and she will be happy to book you for my next available appointment.” 

“With all due respect Your Majesty, that simply won’t do. It won’t take long, perhaps I could walk with you to your next meeting?”

Liam internally rolled his eyes at the suggestion. He knew just how to stroke his ego to get him to back down. “Lord Neville, as one of our most valued members of court, I couldn’t possibly do you the disservice of giving you anything but my full attention on what I’m sure is a crucial matter. That is all I would be doing if I allowed you to continue at this time. I will make sure that my staff adjust the schedule to provide us enough time to examine the issue thoroughly. Please send me any documentation as soon as possible so that I may review it before our meeting. That way, we can hit the ground running when we do meet.”

Neville stood tall, a smug expression quickly spreading across his face. “Very well, Your Majesty. I appreciate your assistance in the matter. I will leave the documentation with your assistant.” He bowed, and Liam nodded in response before exiting the area and moving on to his next meeting. 

“If I may say sir, the way you handled that situation was truly masterful.” Bastien commented as they walked through the palace. 

Liam chuckled and patted his security guard on the back. “All in a day's work, my friend. Everything is in place for this afternoon, I trust? I will have no disruptions for the remainder of the day?”

“Yes Your Majesty, the staff has been fully alerted that you will be unavailable. I will be at the door to ensure that you are not bothered.” Bastien replied. 

Once they arrived at their destination, Liam crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He was the last to arrive, so the sound of the door caught the attention of those that had already gathered. 

“Daddy!” Eleanor jumped out of her chair and ran straight for Liam, leaping into his arms. 

“Hello Princess.” He chuckled as he held her close, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready to decorate some Easter eggs?” He carried her through the livingroom area of the royal quarters, returning her to her seat at the kitchen table.

“Yep! I helped mommy mix all the colors together. It was so fun!” She gestured to the cups of coloring spread out across the table. 

Liam couldn't help but laugh at his daughter’s enthusiasm as he approached his wife, who was standing at the table making the final preparations for their afternoon project. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Riley’s lips. 

“Hey handsome. You made it right on time. I’m impressed.” She teased. 

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. No matter how hard Neville tried.” 

“Neville, yuck!” Eleanor chimed in, causing both of her parents to burst out laughing. 

Riley turned her attention back to her husband. “Alright, you go get changed. I don’t want you ruining your fancy king clothes with egg dye.”

Liam kissed his wife and daughter before going into the bedroom to put on some more casual clothes. He returned unnoticed as Riley explained the egg dying process to Eleanor. He stood for a moment and watched them, his girls, his world. He couldn’t help the smile that quickly spread across his face at the sight. 

“Daddy, come on, we can’t start without you!” Eleanor called out to him from the other side of the room, breaking him from his thoughts. 

He returned to the table and stood between his girls. “Alright, I’m here. Where do we begin?” 

Not only was this Eleanor’s first time decorating Easter eggs, but Liam’s too. He was told that as a Prince, there were more productive ways for him to spend his time. It was just one of the many childhood experiences being royalty simply didn’t allow for. He was so happy, not just to have this experience for himself, but to share it with his daughter. Another way to give her the childhood he never had, but always wanted.

Once Riley explained the process, they got to work; since she was the seasoned professional, she let Eleanor and Liam take the lead and do most of the work. She marveled in the similarities in their gestures, the concentration on their faces as they placed their white eggs in the dye, and the excitement when it would come out dyed a bright color. At one point, Riley couldn’t help but laugh when they pulled out their eggs at the same time, and looked up at her with identical expressions of joy, showing off their creations. 

They had gotten down to the last egg, Liam turned to Eleanor, “Ok Princess, we’ve got one left. You get to pick the color.”

A thoughtful expression overtook Eleanor’s face as she surveyed the colors that surrounded her before turning to her parents and confidently announcing her decision. “Teal.”

Riley and Liam locked eyes and shared a confused expression. There was no teal, they had only prepared basic colors, blue, green, yellow, pink, and purple. “Baby girl, we don’t have teal. These are the only colors we have.” Riley explained. 

Eleanor’s lip started to quiver as her arms went across her chest. “I want teal. Please.” Her parents had been teaching her the importance of manners, so she figured if she said please, they had to give her what she wanted. 

They both knew what that lip quiver meant, they were going to need to move quickly to avoid a total meltdown. Liam approached the princess and started rubbing her back to keep her calm. “It’s alright Eleanor. Why don’t you tell me why you want a teal egg so badly?”

“It’s my favorite color.” She looked up at her father, a pleading expression etched in her face. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

There was no question that Eleanor had the King wrapped around her finger, and when she looked at him like that, there was absolutely no way he could deny her. “Alright, let me go talk to mommy and see what we can do for you.” He kissed her on her cheek and returned to his wife. “Riley, there must be something we can do. I can send someone to get teal coloring. We have unlimited resources at our disposal, there must be some way we can make this happen for her.” 

Riley shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Man, you really are a sucker when it comes to her. Aren’t you.” 

“For both of my girls, actually.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across her knuckles, while giving her a hopeful expression. 

She sighed deeply, as much as she tried to fight it, she was also a sucker for her family. “Alright, I guess I can try to mix the blue and green together. Maybe I can get the right ratio to make a teal dye.” 

Liam turned to Eleanor and gave her a thumbs up, she clapped her hands and cheered in response. Riley got to work carefully mixing the two dyes into a third cup, occasionally dipping a piece of paper in to test the color. She smiled to herself when the fourth test paper emerged from the cup. Mission accomplished. “Did somebody want to make a teal egg?”

“Me me me!” Eleanor raised her hand and jumped up and down in her seat. 

Riley placed the cup in front of Eleanor and handed her the egg. The pair worked together to color the final egg to the princess’s exact specifications. 

Liam watched as the two of them completed their family project. His heart was so full at that moment that he felt weak in the knees. He reached behind him and laid his palms against the kitchen island to steady himself. He stood there as his wife, the love of his life, sat with his daughter creating memories in their home. In that moment, he wasn’t a King, he was the luckiest man in the world. 

With the help of her mother, Eleanor pulled the egg from the dye, her smile growing exponentially as she proudly looked up at her father to show off her work. “Daddy, we did it! It’s teal!”

Liam chuckled at the sight in front of him. “I think it’s the most beautiful egg I have ever seen, Princess.”

Riley looked up and noticed Liam’s expression before leaning down to Eleanor. “Hey sweets, why don’t you go wash up for dinner while I put all of this away.” Her daughter looked up and nodded before rushing down the hall. Riley approached Liam and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Love, I can honestly tell you I have never been better.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “Do you remember our first date? During the social season?” She nodded. “You asked me what my dream was, and I told you I wanted a real family, one that was close and listened to each other.” He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. “I have that, because of you Riley. You’ve made my dream, my heart’s desire, come true. Going into my social season, I had all but given up on falling in love, and assumed I would simply marry for duty. Then you uprooted your whole life to give me a chance at happiness. I will never be able to tell you how truly grateful I am for all that you have given me.” He placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Liam, I did it for me too. That night in New York, I had never felt like that before. I was not that girl, the one that drops everything to fly around the world for a boy I just met, but I knew there was something there that was worth exploring.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Really?”

Riley laughed gently. “I meant every word.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled her close. 

They pulled apart just as Eleanor bounded back into the room. She ran straight for her parents and jumped into Liam’s arms. He held her against one side, and pulled Riley into the other. He was sure that life couldn’t get better than that very moment. 

Tags:

Permatag- @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

One Shots- @darley1101

Liam x Riley- @jared2612

@choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @choicesaprilchallenge2021​ @trraw​

[dreamties]

Slashers W/ a Soft Pastel S/O

A/n - So this one actually wasn’t requested, I just thought it would be super cute. And what I mean by “Soft Pastel”, I mean being into soft/pastel/kawaii fashion, I just didn’t know how to phrase it. Since there’s so many subcultures.

Trigger Warning: Slight Cursing (I say f*ck)

Also- these are gender neutral, but a few describe you in skirts/dresses, so if you’re not comfy with that, just skip that part or the whole thing?? :/

I might do more like this for other types of alternative fashion- like punk or something? Or a S/O who has a lot of body mods, I think it would be fun.

Characters: Billy/Stu, The Lost Boys, Helen Lyle, Daniel Robitaille/Candyman, Brahms Heelshire, and Amanda Young.

I didn’t add Michael Myers, but can do so if y’all want it. I just think he’d be very indifferent about it...didn’t think that would be very fun to read.

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

Stu would be the most like into your outfits

Billy? Not so much. he just thinks you look cute in everything.

but if you did more guro-kawaii looks? they would both be all over that shit. 

it combines more of the grotesque in with the cute- which is just perfect for the boys. they get to see you dawned in all sorts of blood, guts/gore, bandage patterns/aesthetics.

and maybe even tying in different monster-ish elements. 

like wearing funky white or other unnatural colored contacts, really intense makeup(especially around the eyes), and fuck it, maybe you’re wearing faux demon horns.

I think they’d find it kinda hot. if we’re being perfectly honest here.

Now- would you able to get them into it as well?

Stu will ask you, with excitement reverberating throughout out his body and his voice. of course he want’s to at least try it!

so many clips in Stu’s hair. you haven’t even had that many in your hair before!

he may also wear rings sometimes. he thinks all the colors and designs are just so fun!

and on the other hand...

Billy, the guy that basically wore the same outfit for an entire movie? who’s closet only contains jeans and white t-shirts? trying out your style? i don’t think so lol

if you do- somehow- get him to try...

then you might have pressured him into it a bit? very jokingly, of course. 

“C’mon, humor me, babe. Stu’s already dressed and everything!” You try giving him puppy eyes to seal the deal.

“Fine!” Billy says, grabbing the garment and a few clips from your hands. He shuts the door too harshly behind him.

A short silence is shared, before you and Stu burst out laughing. “Do you think he’s mad at us?” You’re hardly able to get it out. Of course he was, but in his own odd way appreciated this adventure.

He comes back a moment later, his white t-shirt replaced with a pastel red one, an especially gory character printed on the front. and a red clip barely hanging on to one of the side pieces of hair in front of his face. You try to suppress a giggle at Billy’s messily put together look.

for the love of gosh- don’t actually laugh when he appears. he is very outside of his comfort zone, and he’s only doing this because he loves you and Stu, and just,, don’t add this to his list of reasons not to try new things.

whatever your reaction ends up being, you’re absolutely obligated to tell them how attractive they look in it(even Billy who looks hella dorky).

(my art)

The Lost Boys

the comparison between their dark, punk-ish style and then the sweet baby pinks and blues, and soft lavenders that adorned your form?? 

it’s just too sweet.

they are completely enamored by your style- even if certain vampires (and I’m not naming any names, but I definitely mean David) may not show his love for your look as openly

Marko- he’d get one cutesy patch for his jacket, so he has like a little piece of you everywhere he goes. also...he genuinely ended up really digging your style? but not enough to abandon his punk look completely. he is still totally dedicated to that.

the other boys will absolutely mess with him about the patch though

all in good fun!

David’s not letting you near his hair with any extra clips or accessories. 

Dwayne enjoys the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you. just sitting together, you might be styling his hair( super loose ponytail or braid- admit it, it would be so cute! and helpful so his hair isn’t always in his face!)...anyways, you’d use a colorful hair tie, and a few clips to help pin back his hair. 

he probably won’t go out with the clips in, but if it’s just the five of you at the cave? he’ll keep it in until it’s time to sleep. 

he loves seeing how happy and accomplished you look after finishing with his hair tho.

Paul is hands down the most likely to get into the whole look and go out in public with it on. 

makeup? hell yeah. it won’t be as intense as yours, and he probably only does the eyes and maybe some shine. sparkly vampire time

hair accessories? all of them

would try combining his look with yours, to have a perfect mess of it.

a light, light  blue mesh top, slightly darker blue jacket(with slight accents in pink, purple, white or black), and his usual sort of white jeans(?) would still look great with it. he’s absolutely rocking that look.

you are ecstatic to finally have someone else to share your passion with! (much harder to find similar folks when you’re a vampire,,)

Helen Lyle

she’s so used to the plain life around her, and she’d been living before you- you were such a breath of fresh air.

of course, you’re darling personality also drew her into you- but your fashion sense? it fascinated her.

she’s not trying it herself anytime soon, but she appreciates the fact that you enjoy it. 

the most she would ever try is a very natural makeup look. and a coat or two of a pastel color of her choice.

she would love watching you get ready. not so much help out though- she just likes seeing the way you approach things. how you choose to pair certain pieces with one another.

she’ll ask questions to better understand your interests! not that it’s weird or wrong that you’re into it, she’s just a very inquisitive person.

you’d wear a lot of blue though- because you know Helen likes that color.

imagine wearing coordinated looks for different events and such. so, when you go with Helen to help out with her Candyman thesis, you might wear candy-themed attire. (of course in this universe,, she wouldn’t die! so no worries of that! you get to keep you’re gf).

if you do gift her something, she keeps it on her bedside table(or dresser). so she can still admire it, and still serves a purpose. fun décor!

all around though- Helen would be very chill, but captivated, about you’re interests.

Daniel Robitaille - Candyman

 his life is so dark and gruesome, and he loves seeing you all dressed up. 

and while he’s dead- long dead- and isn’t really apart of the world in the same sense that you are- it gives him this happy sense of hope for the world.

because there’s this very small thing, that you hold close to your heart, that makes you smile.

Also!!

even if they’re apart of a super awful, traumatic, part of his past- the bees are just a part of the family now.  

so cute yellow/spring/bee themed outfits?? yes. ohh definitely, yes.

As for him dressing up? He’d feel hesitant.

he’s filled with immense joy around you, but is almost scared with someone altering part of his attire or self in any way(rooted back to, again, past stuff).

but part of loving is to take the person as a whole, bad parts, good parts- insecurities- the entire package. and trusting one another.

he has his whole faith in you not to do anything bad.

and so, it becomes a habit for the two of you to spend mornings together, chatting and getting ready. well, you’re getting ready, it’s more for the quality time together for him.

things are little different for Daniel. for many reasons. 

one, he has very short hair. so the clips don’t really work there..

two- he only has one hand, and he’s “working” a lot with the appendages he does have. rings won’t work out because they might fall off- and he’d hate to lose something of yours.

three- he’s not a big makeup fan. he’s happy enough watching you put it on.

and then for his actual attire- he needs the coat to cover his insides. it’s also, in a way, his uniform.

you’ve settled on two things.

making homemade necklaces that can easily hide under his big coat (either sweets or honey/bee themed).

and sewing little patterns on the inside of his coat. other’s wouldn’t be able to see it, but he would know it’s there.

Brahms Heelshire

imagine being super into sorta ‘sweet lolita’, pastel/soft colors, bows, the big skirts, all the sorta ruffles(?)

 and then especially if your shorter than Brahms(which is really,, not hard to do unless you’re insanely tall cause he’s,, 6 foot 3.)- and he thinks you look like such a doll? 

but like,, in a nice way. 

I think he’d get pretty excited if he got to help you set up your outfits!

especially if you praised him for picking out a good combo, or organizing correctly.

and some of Brahms movements are a bit awkward, he’s spent most of his life in the walls and the attic...but imagine turning on his music, and just dancing with him. having him twirl you in his arms a few times.

Brahms loves having your hands through his hair. and if hair accessories means he gets more of that love and attention? then yes,, yes he will wear them.

he just likes feeling taken care of, and along with your usual duties, you help him figure out the soft fashion styles, and how to make it more appealing and suitable for his own tastes.

because- as you insist- you want it to be something he enjoys just because he does, and not just for the closeness. though you can’t deny you love that aspect, too.

i can tell you one thing right here, though. you’re never getting makeup on him. he does not like taking off his mask, even if you’ve been in a relationship with him for a while, he still hides his face a lot.

you’d offered to do his makeup once, since he was staring so intently as you did yours. you’d made the mistake of reaching for his mask. you’d usually ask before doing so, but sometimes you’d slip up.

You apologize profusely, offering your arms out to him for a hug. “There, there, Brahms.” You smile, giving him a slight squeeze of affection. 

he does take your stuff sometimes. 

it’s a little annoying when you think you’ve lost your favorite accessory or dress or etc and then you just realize,, oh, it’s my favorite wall boy again. thank gosh you love him, so you’re not really upset or anything.

he just likes having little reminders of you, it gives him reassurance. upon other warm and fuzzy feelings.

if you’re able to find time in your day though, you’ll make cute little trinkets or bracelets for him. you’ll gift them or purposely leave them out for him-  so you’ll still have some of your stuff when it comes to getting ready the next day.

in short- he’d much rather look at you than partake on his own. 

Amanda Young

she’s never seen anything like this! :0

everyone she knows, herself included, tend to wear more dulled, plain clothes.

she’s immediately very intrigued by your attire...sort of want’s to try it, but is a bit self conscious and embarrassed to ask.

So!! you start out with small things, and fairly early on you both realize that she loves when you decorate her hair with accessories. 

gifting Amanda a pair of little pig clips!!

or little stud earrings- those would be fricking adorable on her!

and she’s just so happy,, wtf

you dress mostly for yourself, but the more you’re in a relationship with your gf- the more you want to dress for her as well. 

you can see this little sparkle in her eye when she sees you, and you want to keep seeing that look for as long as you can.

you slowly get her into it. your relationship and Amanda’s interest in your style just gives her so much light in an otherwise dim world.

if she did get into it, I think she’d do more creepy/cute. as a way to sort of cope with past trauma. that this sort of “bad” thing (the creepy) can still coexist with the good (the cute). she admires that quality.

just very sweet partners, who happen to love similar types of fashion 

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 1

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N:  Hello!~ Long time no see. Are you ready for what comes next? 🤭😇

This chapter update is 20.5k so far... and it’s only the 1st “section” of Chapter 6 so you can imagine how this is gonna go (<.<) oops

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut (in part 2) ]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1) ✓ P(2)  ----- P(3)   P(4)

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⏰🌹Six Phases Tag List: 🌹⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 

(I was unable to tag one of you guys, sorry love💗)

If you’d like to be added next time, please check out this blog post. Thank you ^^ 🌹

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A/N: I will be making the story layout more pretty ^^ Hope you like it! Let’s go!~

Track 01

It's funny how the most important people in your life can enter your world at any given moment. So suddenly—so unexpectedly that you can't imagine your new acquaintance becoming one of your best friends, a flirty friend of friends looking out for you, or even winning a playboy millionaire's heart.

Sometimes these people come out of the blue, and you may not see it then, but they will become pillars to help you hold yourself up; practical family members that you can go to in times of uncertainty—and you will thank your lucky stars every night for not being dumb enough to push these pillars of strength away. Especially if one of them holds the key to your heart…

As dumb as he can be with some things.

And there's just something about observing a silver-haired man walking through a world of white. Snowflakes clinging to the top of his head and his brown winter coat as he struggles with a large box in his hands.

• • • 

The adorable pout on his lips makes a giggle escape mine. I watch him from afar with a fond smile, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Baekhyun!"

My loud call seems to startle him. I burst into laughter as he stumbles over his feet again. "Here, here." Chuckling, I quickly run across the parking lot to assist him. Thankfully without slipping on a patch of black ice along the way. "Let me help you."

"Please do." His warm brown eyes meet mine under the dim street lights, a pout still on his lips. "You sure we'll be alone tonight? This box is quite heavy."

I shoot him a small, secretive smile, neatly tucking my hands under the box along with his, my mitten-covered fingertips brushing against his leather gloves. "Yes babe, it's just you and me~"

Baekhyun hums, unconvinced, as we walk the box to his car, carefully setting it on the floor in the backseat. I catch a whiff of his heart-fluttering, cinnamon-scented cologne before he walks around to the driver's side. "Ready to tell me what's in it?" He raises a brow, resting his folded arms on the top of the snow-covered Audi, a smile playing at his lips.

"I'll think about it~" I chirp, slipping into the passenger seat as he climbs in with a chuckle, hovering my palms over the vent when he starts the car and cranks up the heat. "It's a surprise though."

He hums, carefully backing out of the empty parking lot.

"Oh!" Turning to him with my best puppy eyes, I softly ask, "Can we stop by the convenience store?"

"If you tighten your seatbelt," He advises, taking a quick glance at me and a moment to adjust his own before turning onto the road.

I lean back in the comfortable leather seat, humming along to a familiar song on the radio as he taps his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. A smile forming on my lips while admiring his side profile against the snowy backdrop of the fogged-up driver's window.

He glances over with a smile of his own, "What?"

I can't help but giggle. "Nothing." Cheekily resting my chin on my palm and balancing my elbow on the handle of the door, I muse, "Just admiring my handsome boyfriend."

Even with only the glow from the radio and the occasional streetlight, I can spot the telling red color on his cheeks. "Shh, you're distracting me." He insists in a flustered murmur, steering the wheel.

Chuckling softly, I turn to face the window, sneaking a peek at him every now and then.

• • •

After I flashed the cashier my ID and purchased what I desired at the store, I held the bottle in my lap for the rest of the ride home, carrying it up as Baekhyun assured me he could manage walking the box on his own to the elevator. Of course, I held open the door for him to make both our lives—and my subconscious—easier, and I unlocked the one to our shared apartment.

He had asked me to move in with him the night of our one year anniversary. The question came so out of the blue, I nearly sprayed champagne all over his nervous features across our chandelier-lit table at an upscale Italian restaurant. I mean… I love surprises—and him as well—but damn man, not even a subtle warning!? And why the hell does he want to live with me anyway?

"I want to wake up every morning to your sleeping face curled up by my side," He murmurs, cheeks rosy. From his confession or the champagne, no one knows. My face doesn't feel like it's doing any better either. "Your hair products cluttering our dresser and your toothbrush next to-"

—Okay, okay. Baekhyun is a hopeless romantic who I'm forever trying my best not to melt into a lovestruck puddle on the floor because of his heart quaking words. And what he wants is what he gets. Most of my clothes are stored in our closet, my purple toothbrush next to his golden one, and my 'emergency' duffle bag is stuffed in the farthest corner of the large space.

Now that I'm officially considered, "Baekhyun's woman," Among his group of friends, I have plenty of options for places to crash for a few nights if the need arises. I'm still getting used to his face being the first thing I see in the morning and sometimes I need a little breather, especially when I sense an argument on the rise. It's all fun and games until we're both running low on sleep and high on adrenaline. A girl's always got to have a plan B.

Even Jongdae offered me his guest bedroom for shelter—and sleepovers!—since Jenny moved in with him after graduating earlier in the year. Must be nice, I got a few classes to finish up while diligently editing the current novel that Park's Publishing is working towards welcoming to the public. It's a lengthy fantasy read full of cheesy romance and battling monsters I can't even think to name—typical shit, a few twists and turns along the way, you get the gist.

Baekhyun carefully sets the box down in the living room while I remove my white coat and snow-covered shoes, quickly skipping into the kitchen with the bottle in hand. "Still trying to figure it out?" I call over my shoulder, moving to get ice from the freezer.

"They're definitely canned," He murmurs, padding into the room on sock-clad feet; his arms wrapping around my waist and chin resting on my shoulder as I work on the countertop. "Did you order exotic food again?"

I shake the bottle in my hand, "What goes good with vodka?" Looking over my shoulder, I find his eyes shifting back and forth between the drink in my hand, and the two iced filled glasses on the counter. His brown eyes light up in realization. "Cheerwine?" He chuckles at my excited nod, "You were serious, weren't you?"

"I miss my homeland soda, okay!" I huff, grinning at his endearing laugh before batting my eyes up at him, "Mind opening the box, babe?~" My eyes flutter closed as he presses a lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Of course," He murmurs, soft lips curled in a smile.

As he goes to unpack the drinks, I put my focus back on the ones in front of me, carefully pouring roughly an ounce of vodka in each glass. There is no desire to party too hard tonight when both of us have work in the morning.

"Are you ready, babe?" I tilt my head towards him, holding a glass in each hand. At the confirmation of him indeed prying open the box, I bring the drinks into the living room, neatly setting them down next to the two red cans on the coffee table. "Ready to relax?" I utter playfully to his lean body stretched comfortably across the entirety of our black & white striped couch. His black button-down shirt and matching snug jeans straining deliciously over his thick thighs and firm chest.

Baekhyun nods with a soft hum, and I won't even deny the way my heartbeat skips when he sits up, welcoming me into his open arms with sparkly brown orbs. "Come here."

Accepting the invitation—what am I gonna do? Say no? No way in hell—I carefully nestle myself in his lap, snuggling into his firm chest as my cheeks warm. They burn even more as my eyes catch his fond-filled ones. "Uh-uh." I gulp, squeaking, "Drinks?" Carefully pulling the tab on the first can he hands me before leaning forward to pour an even amount of soda in each glass. Relishing in the familiarity that washes over me in wake of the soft fizz.

Baekhyun hums, a soft smile playing at his lips. He hands me a glass and collects the other for himself. The feeling of his racing heart on my back has me hiding a smile of my own in the fabric of my pastel green turtleneck. I watch his reaction as he takes a tentative sip; his jaw moving while he seems to savor the taste before taking another, briefly meeting my eye.

I blink expectantly, "Well?"

Baekhyun chuckles, planting a heart-fluttering kiss on my nose. "It has a nice cherry flavor. I like it."

I hum, arching a brow, not quite satisfied. "Better than Cola?"

He laughs, nodding as I sip on my own. "Yes, baby," He murmurs, soft lips brushing over my forehead while pulling me closer, "definitely better."

With a nod, I let the conversation lull into a calm silence, nothing but the tinkering of shifting ice and the reassuring beat of Baekhyun's heart interrupting the blissful atmosphere. Nights like these are my favorite: staying in and curling up to each other for warmth. Away from the loud bustle of our daily lives.

Thankfully with my hard work ethic, (read numerous sleepless nights,) the higher-ups have allowed me to work from home as long as I come in for important meetings and I am present three days a week. I rarely miss more than a day every few weeks though; I have no issues working in my designated office there. However, having the option to pack up my laptop and go spend lunch with Baekhyun in his company a few blocks over is always a treat. And the cutest expression of surprise that forms on his features... I'm never taking it for granted.

I stir a little at a soft pressure on the top of my head, blinking a few times before looking up at an equally sleepy Baekhyun. Giggles soon escape us both. "Cheerwine is a sleeping drink, hmm?" He smiles, eyes twinkling.

"It's really relaxing okay," I smile as more laughter rumbles in his chest, melting further into him as his hand rubs soothingly over my back. "I had a lot through high school."

"Helped to prepare for finals?" He inquires, gently combing warm slender fingers through my hair, melted ice swirling around the bottom of his glass.

I nod, briefly closing my eyes with a hum. "That and facing idiots every day. I almost didn't want to go to college, man."

A gentle smile lights up his face, "But you did." The sparkle in his eyes as he gazes down at me warms me up from the inside out. "And then you met me."

"—The persistent idiot from a frat party."

"Yah!" He complains as I erupt into another giggle fit, squealing when he starts leaving ticklish kisses all over my neck.

"Hey, I'm drinking here!"

Baekhyun chuckles, stopping his playful attacks; his small smile pressed to my neck.

"What?" I mutter breathlessly, savoring the remainder of my drink while regaining my breath. Trying not to waver despite the heat rising in my cheeks under the warmth of his stare. His comforting grip on my waist isn't easily ignored either.

"Nothing," He murmurs, looking me over for a moment. Adoration shining clear in his bright orbs as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, uttering softly, "Want to take a bath with me?"

"H—Huh?" I squeak, wide-eyed, hiding behind my hand. My face damn near bursting into flames. "Why?"

Baekhyun laughs softly, briefly squeezing my waist. "I don't know, I just…" He falters, fingers fidgeting, an all-telling red hue filling his cute cheeks. "Just thought it'd be nice."

"Nice, huh?" I mumble over the rim of my glass, licking a few stray drops before they can fall while arching a brow; my lips curling at the tint of red crawling up his ears.

"Y-Yeah, I mean," He stutters, focused on my cherry lips.

"I think you just want to see me naked," I tease, leaning forward to set my glass on the wooden table behind his blushing form sitting against the armrest of the couch.

"No-" Baekhyun's breath hitches, tilting his head back at my cold lips softly exploring the warm skin of his gorgeous neck. "M-Maybe…"

"Mmhm." Gently nibbling where his neck meets his jaw and putting his half-full glass away as well, I murmur, "That can be arranged."

Baekhyun sits there for a long moment, blinking owlishly at me before he straightens up. He swoops his arms under my knees and behind my back, standing up without a word, his biceps flexing at the motion. Soft eager lips press to my squealing ones as he walks down the hall to our bedroom.

I wrap my arms around his neck with a shy smile, smirking inwardly at the rapid beat of his heart under my palm resting against his neck.

"Give me a sec," He mumbles, entering the master bathroom. He sets me down on the spacious counter and opens a nearby drawer. "Can you open the cabinet for me?"

"You're gonna light a candle?" I blink, eyes widening at the box of matches in his hand.

"Not a candle," He braces his free hand on the countertop, capturing my lips in an unhurried kiss that makes me gasp. "Many candles."

"How romantic," I chuckle, breathy as he pulls away.

"Everything for you," His lips curl into that adorable, boyish smile; his hand patiently waiting. I retrieve the container of cream-colored candles from beyond the mirrored door behind me, carefully closing it before turning back to him, watching as he lights the match. The flickering flame reflects beautifully in his brown eyes while he holds it to the first candle, the scent of vanilla filling the room. A knowing smile forms on his lips at my unwavering stare.

I clear my throat, gripping the edge of the counter, "I'll go start the water-"

Baekhyun wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me back to him with a shake of his head. "No, I'll do it."

"But-"

"Baby," He has that pleading look in his eyes, lowering the lit match held between his fingertips. "Let me pamper you." 

"You're gonna make me spoiled," I grumble, eyes fluttering shut at the soft brush of his lips over my cheek.

"You're my girl," He murmurs, chuckling, softly squeezing my waist. "Of course I'm going to spoil you."

My chest nearly bursts under the weight of my surging affection. "Well then..." I begin, calm despite my racing heart, sliding my hands down to unbutton his shirt and tug at the belt on his jeans. I pull up his tucked-in t-shirt, aimlessly searching for his lips. "Do it properly."

My eyes flicker open just in time to catch his adam's apple bobbing, his little nod causes my lips to curl up. He hands me the lit match before shrugging off his shirt; his black t-shirt not too far behind. I lick my lips, trailing my gaze over his honey-toned torso. Smiling before pressing my mouth back to his soft pillows, mindful of the flame between my fingers while wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "My favorite view."

Baekhyun's bashful smile presses more firmly to mine, strong arms holding me flush to his body. I don't know if the sudden heat in the room is coming from my thick clothes or the proximity of his firm chest.

Just as I start to feel overwhelmed by the warmth, he detaches our lips with a loud smooch, carefully taking the match from my hand. The passionate fire in his orbs burning brighter than the flame between his fingers is enough to make me scorching hot under the collar.

Baekhyun has that knowing little smirk forming on his face again, lighting a few more candles before blowing out the match. "I'll start the water."

I can only giggle, completely enamored with him. The twinkling sparkle in his eyes in response to my laugh makes my heartbeat skip even more. I duck my head to hide from his amused expression and adoring gaze.

He just chuckles, planting a fleeting kiss on my forehead before stepping towards the grand tub on the other side of the room. Grand because the damn thing has three white steps leading up to it and it's at least as big as our king-sized bed in the other room.

The soothing sound of running water fills the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of vanilla and the view of Baekhyun leaning over the tub. His back muscles flexing alluringly, black belt tugging perfectly on his hips.

I look away, covering my red face with a muffled giggle, tugging at the collar of my shirt. Just what has this man done to me?

"What?" He glances over his shoulder, an amused smile playing at his lips.

"Nothing." Hiding my smile is nearly impossible until it falls off my face entirely in wake of him running a wet hand through his silver hair. The soft strands pushed off his gorgeous forehead with those dancing brown eyes of his watching me. I'm not blushing, I swear it's the humidity in the room.

He steps back over to me with antagonizing slow strides, his hands resting comfortably on my waist. "May I?" He murmurs, sliding them down to take hold of the hem of my turtleneck. The warmth of them somehow manages to seep through the thick fabric of my shirt.

I can only gulp, nodding meekly as he smiles, pulling the soft material over my head. The way his eyes drift over my tank top makes my cheeks warm—even more so when he rids me of it without hesitation.

"I should consider underwear," He mutters distractedly, one hand swiping under the edge of my bra while the other slides warmly up my back.

"You wanna compete with them too?" I arch a brow, leaning into his touch.

"No," He shakes his head, wrapping his arm around my waist, lifting those brown eyes back up to meet mine. "I want to see you with my name."

I can't help but snort despite my racing heart, giving him a disbelieving look. "You'd make a whole clothing line just for me to wear?" My amused grin falters at his serious nod. "I wouldn't be the only one wearing them, Baekhyun."

He hums, leisurely peppering kisses to the exposed skin of my chest. Goosebumps rise under his gentle caress as he pulls off my bra, quietly muttering, "You're the only one that matters."

There's no hiding my quickening heartbeat with his lips pressed so firmly to my skin; his brief smile not helping the state of my flushing cheeks at all. Just as I part my lips, my breath hitches—words forgotten with his hands trying to slip under the waistband of my thick leggings. I tsk, lightly smacking them away. "Yours first, mister."

"Mmm." He smiles, his palms sliding down my thighs. He's got that look in his eyes again that tells of unspoken mischief. "I kinda like the sound of that-"

"Never in a million years, Byun."

He chuckles, warm breath fanning over my cheek. "Remember last time? When you just-"

"Baekhyun!" My hand clapping over his mouth does nothing to muffle his contagious laughter. I can only shake my head, reaching to unzip and pop the button of his jeans. He gets quiet as I push them down to his calves. "Don't give me that look," I mutter, running my hands over his back, already well aware of the barely concealed problem he has.

"Why?" He murmurs, seeming to be content with painting me in gentle pink hues with his soft lips.

"You're staring."

Baekhyun chuckles, lifting his head, meeting my eyes with his twinkling ones. "I love admiring art."

"Oh, so I'm an object now?" I arch a brow, leaning back on my palms braced against the countertop. 

"No." He shakes his head, brown eyes still focused on mine, long strands of silver hair cascading down his forehead. "You're the source," He pauses, smiling almost shyly, "Of my love and affection." 

I'm ignoring the urge to coo at his reddening ears, merely planting a kiss on his cheek before wiggling out of my pants and carefully sliding off the counter. I collect our scattered clothes from the floor, tossing them into the wash basket a few feet away, curiously venturing over to the tub. Funny how we haven't used it since I moved in with him months ago. Then again, dating a CEO or not, I still think it is a waste of water just to fill up half of this thing, let alone what kind of water bills come with turning on the internal jacuzzi mode that will set the water into motion. But tonight is a special occasion.

No need for fancy anything—well, excluding the expensive bathtub—just being by his side is one of the most rewarding feelings in the world.

The steam rising from the still water makes my face feel dewy and refreshed. Coaxing me to dip into its heated depths. I gather my hair up into a bun, reaching for my hair-tie only to find out that it isn't on either of my wrists.

"Ah—do you need one?" Baekhyun mumbles, pausing mid-stride, pink lips pouting as he ruffles his silver hair.

Smiling adoringly, I make my way back to him with a shake of my head, grabbing his wrist. "No, it's fine."

"But-"

"It's alright, Baekhyun." Noticing the uncertainty playing on his features, I giggle. "It's not going to melt off, you know?"

He still has a furrow between his brows.

Fighting my smile, I shrug after a few moments, scrunching my nose, "My hair just gets a bit puffy—but." Holding my hand up at the sight of his dancing orbs, I narrow my eyes, muttering, "If my head ends up underwater, we are going to have a problem."

"Alright," He nods, lips curled up in a sheepish smile. "I can work with that."

I smile softly, taking a deep breath as he steps closer; heart palpitating when his familiar scent hits my nose, mixing with the aroma of vanilla permeating the air. His wet hair flops over his forehead in the most endearing of ways, outlining the cute droop of his eyes and his brown irises lit with the flickering candle flames. I doubt I will ever find a more comforting place than the shelter of his strong arms, fully content with melting into the security of his honey-toned skin. 

"The water's getting cold," I blurt, muffled in the safety of his shoulder.

Baekhyun laughs, briefly dipping his hand into the water. We strip off the rest of our clothes and slip into its pleasantly warm depths.

'Wow,' I mouth, settling against the far side of the tub, relaxing under the water comfortably lapping at my shoulders.

"Nice, hmm?"

"Nice!?" My eyes drift to him as he moves closer. "Dude, I could spend an entire lifetime here if I wouldn't shrivel up like a prune."

I catch a glimpse of his sugar-sweet smile before he moves to sit behind me, pulling me close until my back is resting on his chest. Relaxing completely against him, all tension seems to leave my body, only a sense of warmth and security fills my being.

This kind of closeness—this intimacy—is something I'm definitely up for getting used to. The steady beating of his heart, the soft puffs of his every breath... It makes me inwardly scold myself for not doing this with him sooner. But when I stop to think about it…

I shoot down the thought quickly, fighting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut. The past is in the past. It shouldn't define the present, nor should I think about it. No matter how painful it is, I rather focus on Baekhyun's fingers gently playing with the ends of my hair instead of getting lost in the reminders of why my chest aches from time to time. The unanswered questions and concerns that easily plague my mind if I'm not careful enough.

I'm brought back to the calming waters of the tub by the feeling of Baekhyun's hand sliding down my stomach. "What are you doing?" I grumble, peeking an eye open.

"Appreciating," He murmurs with a small smile, wet strands of his hair tickling my ear as he plants a kiss on my shoulder. "I want to wash your hair. May I?"

Both my eyes flutter open with a quiet hum, a lazy smile forming on my lips. "Only if I can too," I propose, peeking over my shoulder at him. The view of his slender neck bared while his head rests against the back of the tub with water lapping at his chest is damn near intoxicating. Like what the hell, I swear this man grows finer by the day—or maybe I'm just a sucker for him... At this point, it's probably a mixer of both. Possibilities are endless when it comes to being in love—especially the cringe-worthy ones.

Baekhyun hums, brown eyes shimmering brightly as I turn around to face him, resting my palms on his lean abdomen for stability. "I'd love that," He murmurs, arms wrapping around my waist.

I shoot him another sweet smile, reaching to grab his shampoo bottle left on the edge of the tub. An all-too-familiar citrus scent wafts into the air when I open it. Squeezing a bit in my palm, I rub my hands together. "Close your eyes—just in case," I mumble sheepishly. I'm not about to risk him getting soap in his eyes tonight. Between his luck and my clumsiness, we must take all precautions. 

Baekhyun chuckles, his eyes fluttering shut as I carefully run my hands through his hair, shifting into a comfortable position on his lap. He rubs soothing circles on my back, making me smile shyly, treating his soft strands with care.

"Your roots are showing," I note, gently ruffling his silver locks.

"I know." He tsks, cracking an eye open. "I'll get it done in a few days. When inventory calms down."

Humming, I swipe away shampoo drifting down his forehead, looking into his eyes sternly. "Enough of that. Less talking, more washing." 

Soft laughter rumbles in his chest. "Yes ma'am," He mumbles, brown orbs shining in amusement, shutting his eyes again.

I massage the shampoo into his scalp, thoroughly covering the hair at the nape of his neck, pausing at the soft peck he presses to my lips. My cheeks burst into flames, "Lay back for me?"

"Oh?" He peeks, soapy suds sliding down his jaw. "This isn't what I was expecting, but I'm not complaining," He murmurs, smirking.

"Baekhyun!"

He's full-on laughing, causing the water to ripple around us. I shake my head, smiling a little, shielding his forehead and scooping up water to rinse his hair.

"Almost done," I mumble distractedly, my gaze drifting over his handsome features in the meantime. There's nothing like seeing a peaceful expression form on his face, or being the one to help him relax after a tiring day. Witnessing the way his stern eyes soften into the purest brown pools of love makes me feel like a criminal. "There."

"Thank you, baby." He hums, eyelashes brushing his cute cheeks before his sparkly brown orbs focus on me. He leans up for a sweet kiss that washes my every worry away, his warm breath causing goosebumps to form on my skin. "Your turn."

I don't even try hiding my smile, relaxing at the rare feeling of his hands carding through my hair. Something about the gentle way he does it makes me giggle, giddiness bubbling in my chest.

"What's so funny, hmm?" He murmurs, biting my ear.

"Baek!" I squeal, nearly opening my eyes as he chuckles, pressing a ticklish smooch to my neck.

Stealing a peek at him, I could melt at the adorable concentrated look on his face. Moments like these remind me how much I love this man. His every habit and cute mannerisms. Even on days when we've had enough of each other, where we teeter close to the edge of a breakup, I rather try a thousand times with him than start over with someone else. Stubborn personality and all, no pride of mine outweighs my never-ending love for him.

Nothing compares to how much I would do for him. Rain, sleet, or snow, I'll be there—and knowing he'd do the same, that he feels the same—is the greatest feeling imaginable.

"Baekhyun?"

"Hmm?" He lifts his head from the edge of the tub, holding me close to his beating heart, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The warmth of his gaze and the familiarity of his palm cupping my cheek send my adoration to new heights.

Taking my time to gaze over his features, I map every soft slope, every stunning curve, every unique freckle of his skin to memory. The little imperfections that make him even more perfect to me, reminders of why I haven't given up completely on humanity. I could spend forever with you. "I love you."

His beaming smile is the most heart-fluttering gesture in the world. "I love you too."

The sizzling of meat and the mouth-watering aroma of seasoned beef fills the air, popping to the tempo of my anxious heart. I blow away annoying strands of hair dangling in my eyes, painstakingly swirling the steadily cooking, thinly sliced marinated strips around the pan. Monitoring the rice cooker on the other side of the stove while being mindful of the glass plates neatly set out on the counter. I'm grateful that this recipe is as simple as the online articles have stated, who knows what kind of disastrous mess the kitchen would be in by now if it were any more difficult on this Friday night. 8 straight hours of back and forth with a picky, opinionated novelist has left me ravenous, I can't imagine what Baekhyun must be feeling.

The familiar sound of the security code being typed in is audible over the quiet atmosphere, bringing a smile to my lips as the front door opens.

"Honey," That honey-filled voice chimes, beautiful even with the tiredness in his soothing timbre. "I'm home-"

I carefully slide the food out of the pan, giving his plate the bigger portion, glancing over my shoulder at him while trying a piece of meat. He's just standing there in the middle of the room with parted lips, his white dress shirt straining against his chest and black blazer hanging off his biceps.

"Welcome home, Baekhyunee," I murmur, an amused smile tugging at my lips.

He hangs up his coat and blazer with an acknowledging hum, neatly placing his dress shoes on the shoe rack before slipping into his black house slippers, entering the kitchen with quick resounding footsteps. 

My eyes flicker over to the beeping rice cooker as I finish emptying the meat from the pan, barely taking two steps before he's wrapping his arms around my waist. "You're home early."

"That I am," He muses, pressing a kiss to my hairline, strong arms tightening around me. "What's all this?"

"...Do you not recognize Bulgogi?" I frown, giving him the side-eye while scooping rice out of the cooker, smiling at the result. It's not overdone or undercooked. Perfect. "—Wait, is it that unrecognizable? Did I fuck-" I gasp, disoriented from being spun around so quickly.

Baekhyun chuckles, brown eyes twinkling in awe as he smiles down at me. "You didn't, baby." His thumb brushes over my lips, dexterous fingers curling stubborn strands of hair behind my ear. "I'm just surprised is all. What's the occasion?"

"Well..." I mumble, spooning a piece of meat on top of some rice. "I'm tired of getting takeout all the time. We may be busy, but I'll be damned if we buy food that we can cook in mere minutes like what's the point? When we can just-" My eyes flutter close, heart rate exhilarating at the feeling of his soft pillows pressed to mine.

"Let's cook more often," He proposes with a smile, leaning down to take a bite of the spoonful of food held in my frozen hand. Not even two seconds go by before his eyes widen.

"What?" My eyes enlarge the longer he's quiet; he's chewing so nonchalantly I have the urge to run away in a burst of panic.

"It's amazing," He mumbles after a few minutes, eyes sparkling so brightly while gazing at me, planting a kiss on my nose. "I love it."

"You…" I blink a few times, lightly smacking his arm. "You jerk!"

Baekhyun just laughs, pulling me further into his warm embrace. Brown eyes forming cute crescent moons.

"I thought you didn't like it," I mumble, slumping in defeat, unmistakable warmth rising on my cheeks.

"Why wouldn't I?" He murmurs, planting a kiss on top of my head. The tiredness from a long day of work only amplifying the sexy rasp of his voice. "Even if you burnt it to a crisp, I'd compliment you."

I scoff with a racing heart, stepping out of his hold, "That's not very honest."

"Mmhm, but-" He chuckles softly, taking me by the hand and spinning me back around, love shining in those deep brown orbs of his. He's breathtaking under the dim overhead light of the stove that will need to be replaced soon. The faint glow and coupling shadows cast over his features in a captivating way, making him appear older and reformed yet reflecting the youthful emotions in his eyes all the same. His silver hair is blinding under the reflective light; surprisingly the least bit ruffled in its state over his forehead. How someone can look so stunning after working all day will always astonish me, but that's just him.

"I'm honestly in love with you," Baekhyun utters in a heart-quaking hush as if sharing a secret, setting my cheeks aflame. "—And your cooking. Holy shit, what did you put in this?"

I shoot him a small, secretive smile, resting my hand on his bicep, "It's a secret~"

"A secret, huh?" Baekhyun muses, arching a brow, fighting a smile. He briefly glances down at my mouth at that moment, licking his lips before leaning in.

"Ah-" I take a step back just as his soft pillows brush against mine, bracing my hand on his firm chest when he steps closer. "Don't you dare."

"What?" He mumbles, meeting my eyes, pink lips jutted out in the tiniest pout.

Shifting my gaze away from the unfairly adorable sight, I mutter, "I spent all afternoon marinating that meat. You better not let it get cold."

"I'm hungry for something else at the moment," He murmurs lowly, biting his lip. Just those words alone from his sinful mouth make my insides quiver. I clear my throat, trying my best to keep a flush from reappearing on my face as he runs a hand through his silver hair, giving me those darkening brown eyes.

Spotting a magazine out of the corner of my eye, I grab it just as he's leaning in again, promptly smacking his arm. "Dessert comes after dinner—if," I breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, "you're lucky." 

"May luck be on my side then..." He hums thoughtfully, swiping his thumb over his lips; slender fingers softly squeezing my waist. His dark brown orbs lift back up to mine, eyeing me intensely for a long minute. My cheeks redden at the implications.

Baekhyun finally shifts his attention back to the steaming plates. "I'll handle these. Go sit down."

"I-"

He turns those dark brown eyes onto me again, the mischievous promises swirling within them enough to weaken my knees. I spin around on my heel without another word, hurrying to the dining table. He brings both the plates over, setting them down on the winter-themed table mats placed in front of our designated seats. We prefer sitting next to each other when having meals together at home—some nights spent with my right hand being held securely in his left one.

Baekhyun slides into his chair just as I pick up a pair of chopsticks, the faint scent of his cologne tickles my nose. Would it be silly to say that the room seems to warm up whenever he is around? He's like a little source of comfort and warmth, relaxing me in any situation. It doesn't matter where I am; if he is there, I'll know I'm safe, that everything's going to be alright.

"Say ah," Baekhyun's melodic voice rings, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

I pause mid-bite, glancing over at him. He continues to hold up a piece of meat despite my incredulous stare, "Really?"

He just smiles sweetly, patiently waiting, his bright brown eyes sparkling when I take the offered food with a playfully annoyed sigh.

"I missed you today," He murmurs warmly, pointedly staring down at his plate. My heart nearly jumps out my chest at the sweetness. I bite my lips to fight back a smile, holding back a giggle. It's always heartwarming to know that even after all this time, I'm not the only one bursting at the seams with my love for him. He's so fucking adorable.

"I missed you too," I mutter, kissing his rosy cheek before shifting my attention back to my food. "Eat up, you've had a long day."

"Oh baby, you have no idea." He groans. The familiar sound of metal cutlery clinking against glass dishes fills the room.

"Wanna share?" I inquire, resting my chin on my palm, carefully picking up a few pieces of beef and rice. I gaze intently at him with an encouraging smile.

"I've had three meetings since the afternoon," He grumbles, a tired smile briefly tugging at his lips. "Someone kept messing up the orders and a truckload of the material conveniently ended up shipped to the wrong facility."

"Conveniently?" My gaze flickers to his glass of water on the table, dangerously close to the edge. I move it closer to the center of the table mat, eyes widening slightly at the clench of his jaw. His eyes are full of that stern businessman gleam he only gets when he's restraining the urge to go off on a subordinate.

"Mmm." His body is rigid despite his calm tone, voice deeper than usual, "I swear that they are out to get on my nerves." He speaks slowly as if containing his anger. "We've been at this for years, why haven't they got their shit together yet?"

"Did you get the shipment?" My voice is soft as I tentatively rest my head on his shoulder, stroking his arm.

Baekhyun hums, relaxing a little, resting his head on top of mine. "It's frustrating." He sighs.

"Good thing you're the boss then," I chirp, peeking at him, cheekily adding, "You can yell at them and you won't get fired."

Thankfully, my words make him laugh, breaking the tension in his broad shoulders. The joyous sound rumbles his chest and echoes off of the walls.

"Shh!" I whisper, softly covering his mouth, making a show of looking around. "Yah, don't wake the neighbors. They might think I'm watching questionable comedy again."

Baekhyun only laughs harder, pressing a kiss to my palm before taking my hand into his own, his brown orbs lit up in amusement. "That movie was a wild ride."

"Literally," I agree, raising my brows to broaden his smile. "How much longer do you have to work these long hours?" My tone comes out whiner than intended, but I just hide my face in his neck, basking in his comforting scent.

"A few more days," He mumbles, kissing my head, gently tangling his fingers in my hair. "Why? Do you miss me?" He teases, curling a strand around his finger.

My heart downright quivers. "Nah, I'm just curious—of course, I miss you!" I retort, scoffing, shooting him a look. "12-hour shifts are too much. You're gonna start getting gray hair for real."

"Just until Thursday, baby." He murmurs, chuckling at my doubtful expression, tucking hair behind my ear, and cupping my cheek in his warm palm. "Two more days and then I'm all yours."

"Are you sure about that?" Muttering under my breath, I get lost in the mocha brown of his eyes, my own fluttering shut at the light kiss he presses to my lips.

"Mmm as sure as I am about loving you," He smiles, caressing my cheek with his thumb, gazing adoringly into my eyes.

If I was standing, I'm positive I would have stumbled over my feet by now. I swear this man and his affection will make me melt into a damn puddle one day—possibly today at this rate.

The loud buzz of a phone goes off in the room. Heavy vibrations come from the left pocket of Baekhyun's black slacks, warmly pressed against my thigh. He pulls it out without breaking eye contact, but the sight of a child out of the corner of my eye draws my attention. My heart quickly sinks at the realization that…

This kid looks just like the man next to me.

"Hello?" Baekhyun hums, closing his eyes, a peaceful expression forming on his features until they snap back open. "What did you say?" He breathes, straightening up, face going pale the longer the person's muffled speech filters through the phone.

My eyes shift back and forth between him and the blank screen of his phone, the image of that child still circling around my mind. Who is he? Why is there a picture of a child that resembles him so much on his phone?

Baekhyun and I never really talked about his family, despite him meeting mine. I just assumed that it was a touchy topic or something, so I never—

"I can't—I can't," He grits out, abruptly leaning away from me, knuckles white from his tight grip on the device. He roughly runs a hand through his hair, growing more agitated by the second. "My schedule is packed for the next two weeks. I won't be able to..." He goes quiet, listening as his brown eyes drift over to mine. The nearly blank look in them makes my heart race, and not in a good way.

"I understand," He mutters, ending the call.

The silence that stretches out in the space between us while he re-pockets his phone is unbearable. Even more so with the way he seems to avoid my eye, crossing his arms over his heaving chest; a faraway look within his dimmed brown orbs.

It takes a few deep breaths for me to dare to say anything, reaching out towards him only to lower my hand back to my lap, curling it into a fist. "...Baekhyun?"

"Hmm?" His head snaps up, blinking a few times before meeting my gaze. The unfamiliar daze in his tired eyes is worrisome, "Yeah, baby?"

"That…" I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure how to go about the question I'm dying to ask. Baekhyun rarely gets like this—he gets angry, yes, but to reach this extent of...rage? I only recall witnessing it last fall when I had my phone off all night, and that one time I almost sliced off my thumb while trying to peel potatoes. Multiple chirps of his phone has my eyes darting back down to his pocket.

Baekhyun follows my line of sight, realization dawning on his features. "Ah..." He nods, adam's apple bobbing in his throat, smiling a little before reaching out for me. "Sorry about that, my love."

"Who was that?" I try my best not to seem stiff when he pulls me into his arms, but by the way his smile falls off his face, he already knows.

"My brother," He mumbles, pressing kisses to my forehead, gathering me closer despite the protesting squeak of our chairs.

"And the kid?" I look at him dead in the eye, leaning back regardless of the frown forming on his face.

"Hmm?" He tilts his head for a moment, brown eyes soon widening. "Oh! That." His sheepish smile is borderline guilty as he ruffles his hair, uttering quietly, "That's my nephew. Isn't he adorable?"

Nodding slowly, I hum, turning to poke aimlessly at my cold food. "Looks just like you."

Baekhyun's arm tenses up under my hand. He pulls the phone back out of his pocket. "You mean his father. See?" After a few swipes of his finger, he holds it up; the device displays an image of the little kid and an older-looking version of Baekhyun. "Baekbeom and I got confused a lot growing up."

Uh-huh... My heart squeezes uncomfortably in my chest as I twirl a chopstick around my plate. "Why do you never talk about them?" I whisper, taking a peek at him.

"Why don't you ever ask?" He shrugs, lips twitching—an almost annoyed tone in his voice.

"O-Oh well..." The painful throb in my chest is immediate. I grit my teeth, lowering my head and pushing away from the table. "I'll go wash the dishes-"

"No—wait." Baekhyun grabs my wrist, gently pulling me to him. "Come here." He whispers, wide eyes flickering all over my person.

"The chair's gonna break," I mutter, avoiding his eye, reluctantly sitting on the edge of his lap.

"Shh—baby." His voice has taken on that soft comforting timbre he reserves for dreary nights and hushed calls between meetings. His strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me further into his warmth. "Look at me, please?" He tucks a finger under my chin, coaxing me to face him.

Shaking my head, I keep my eyes down on my hands, fully content with examining the state of my chipped nail polish instead.

Baekhyun sighs after a while. "I'm sorry," He mumbles, hugging me to his chest, nuzzling his nose into my hair. "I had a long day and shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"And I cooked for you." I huff quietly, crossing my arms. "Next time I'm making food for myself. You can stick to your precious takeout."

"No," He whines, hiding further in my hair. "I want your food. Your cooking is the best."

"You only had one meal." I roll my eyes.

"And I want them all." He pulls back, cupping my cheek in his hand, staring deep into my eyes. "I want all of you."

There's no holding back the smile that automatically forms on my face, but his words do nothing to ease the lump in my throat or the burn of his actions. No amount of butterflies in my stomach can hide the fact that... there are parts of Baekhyun's life that he refuses to share with me. But there's no point in getting upset over something I've known for over a year, is it?

Baekhyun peeks over at me mid-bite. "What?"

"Nothing," I murmur, breaking out of my daze, mustering up a smile. Gently wiping away a grain of rice from the corner of his lips. "You're just so cute, I bet you were adorable as a kid."

"Mmhm." He nods nonchalantly, though his reddening cheeks are a dead giveaway. "Our kids will be lucky."

I splutter, damn near dropping the glass in my hand. "Baek!" My light slap on his chest does nothing to disturb his laughter. "Stop playing, I'm still upset."

His chuckles evaporate in an instant. "I'm not." The serious tone of his voice mirrors the determination in his eyes. "I mean it."

My eyes widen, "Oh..."

"Do you ever think about it?" Baekhyun's voice barely reaches a whisper, he meets my eyes with a bashful expression before looking away. "Having kids, I mean."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He breathes, wide brown eyes focused on me. The utterly surprised look on his face is refreshing to say the least.

I nod, choosing my words carefully, "I wouldn't mind 2, 3, 4 mini me's."

"Four!?" The chair creaks as he leans back in astonishment. If his eyes were wide before, they are the size of saucers now. "Are you mad, woman?"

"No! I just-" It's hard to formulate words with his fingers mercilessly tickling my sides. "Stop." I groan, laughing, batting his hands away. "Can't I dream about having a bunch of cute kids?" I shrug, looking away. "I dream big, so what?"

"Nothing." He smiles, bright orbs dancing, softly squeezing my waist. "Keep dreaming, baby."

"Mmhm." Relaxing against him, I wrap my arm around his neck, giving him a look. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't 'hmm' me." His widening smile is contagious, I just want to kiss it off of him. "How many kids you want?" I murmur, picking lint off of his dress shirt, peeking under my eyelashes at him. He stays quiet as I gently curl his hair around my finger, "Go on. Spill."

"Doesn't matter," He mumbles, pressing a kiss to my palm, picking up his chopsticks again.

"Really?" I arch a brow, not the least bit convinced. "Are you sure? I bet you want two."

"Nope." The word comes out muffled around the cheek-full of food in his mouth. Even his audible chewing is adorable and attractive.

I scoff in disbelief, smiling a little with a tilt of my head, resting it on his shoulder. "How many do you want then?"

"Doesn't matter the number or gender," He shakes his head, neatly setting his chopsticks down on his empty plate. "I just want them." He peeks at me, "With you."

My brows raise in surprise. "Thinking ahead, are we?"

He shrugs, a smile quirking at his lips. "I like being prepared."

"You know life is unpredictable, right?" I mutter, narrowing my eyes at his cheeky expression.

Baekhyun smiles sweetly, pulling the collar of my oversized shirt off my shoulder, brushing his lips over my skin. "Then I hope life predicts me with you."

It takes everything in me to hold in a gasp, tangling my fingers further in his silver locks. "What are you up to now?"

"Making it up to you." He leaves a trail of soft smooches up to my collarbone, nibbling at the sensitive skin, gently digging his fingers further into the swell of my waist.

"Making it up..." I mumble, melting into him, resting my hand over his heart. "How exactly?"

"Well." He pulls back with a tiny grin, biting his lip, pure mischief swirling within his sparkling eyes. "There are many ways my mouth can apologize..."

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1) ✓ P(2)  ----- P(3)   P(4)

A/N: What is Baekhyun up to now? I swear he grows more complex by the day. Do I write the fic or does the fic write itself? (>.<) let’s not talk about the filth that leaves his mouth (<.<) *coughs* 😳🔥🌹  onto part 2 we go~ 

[kaimelia]

Your fanfictions are literally the best ones I’ve read and I’m really glad you continue to write! Can you write a one-shot of amelia and link playing with the kids?

Amazing

a/n: thanks for the prompt and the message! i hope you enjoy it <3

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"Higher!" Bailey shouted, grinning widely as his Uncle pushed him on the swing set.

"I don't think you can go much higher, little dude," he laughed, glancing over at Amelia, who was sitting at the picnic table feeding their son. "Plus, Ellis wants a turn on the swing. You've gotta hop off." The boy groaned, waiting for the swing to slow before jumping off of it. "Okay, Elle, your turn."

"Auntie Amelia! I'm bored!" Bailey ran towards his Aunt, sitting down across from her. She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, Bails, I don't know what to tell you. You've got a whole backyard to play in."

"It's boring, and Uncle Link won't push me on the swing anymore." He crossed his tiny arms and groaned dramatically. "Zola's no fun; she just wants to read."

"Why don't you go read?"

"Reading is boring." The neurosurgeon pouted her lip in sympathy, lifting her son and placing a cloth over her shoulder to burp him.

"This guy needs to sleep; why don't we head inside, and I'll get you set up with the iPad?" He nodded eagerly and followed her inside, waiting for his cousin to fall asleep.

"It's cold," Ellis complained from outside, stopping the swing with her feet.

"You wanna head inside?" She nodded, holding her arms up for Link to pick her up. He did, shifting her so that she was on his back with her arms locked around his neck. "Alright, what do you wanna do?"

"Can we play princess?"

"What do we need to play princess?" She thought for a moment in silence.

"We can paint our nails!" Ellis exclaimed while Link pushed open the screen door, setting her down in the kitchen. "I'll go get nail polish." He beamed as she dashed towards the stairs, coming back down a moment later with a black makeup bag in hand.

"What color are we doing?" Link questioned as Ellis dumped the contents of the bag on the kitchen table, picking up a bottle of blue polish.

"Pink. Princesses like pink!" He grinned and nodded, waiting for her to situate herself in the kitchen chair. "You have to paint my nails."

"Okay," he picked up the bottle, patting it against her hand before taking the brush out and painting her nails. Once he finished, he leaned back to admire his work. "I think I did a pretty good job."

"Your turn!"

"Hey, let's keep the volume down. I just got Scout to sleep," Amelia whispered, setting the baby monitor down on the kitchen island. Link put his finger up to his mouth and motioned to be silent, causing Ellis to laugh from next to him. "What are you two doing?"

"Ellis wanted me to paint her nails, and then we thought it was only fair that she paint mine, too," he held up his hand, bright pink nail polish messily covering his fingernails. Amelia grinned.

"Do I get mine done, too?" She pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. "I want purple."

"I have to finish Uncle Link's first!" Ellis pulled the brush out of the nail polish bottle and swiped it up her Uncle's finger, covering the skin around his nail in the neon polish.

"Where are Zola and Bailey?"

"Upstairs. Zola helped me get Scout to sleep and then wanted to go read, and Bailey's having his iPad time," Amelia placed her head on her palm as she watched Ellis paint Link's nails, her lips turned up into a grin.

"Can I paint Scout's nails?"

"He's a little too small for that, Elle." She picked up Link's hand, admiring the color on his nails. "Pink suits you."

"Mm, well, this one told me it would look good," he motioned towards Ellis, her head tilted down as she concentrated. "What're we doing for lunch?"

"I have no idea. We've had mac and cheese almost every day since the start of quarantine. I can't cook anything else."

"How about I start some chicken nuggets once I'm done here?" Amelia smiled and brushed back a piece of her hair.

"You've gotta wait for them to dry; you might be a while. I can get them started," she stood and pushed her chair in, walking over to the freezer.

"How long do we have to stay at home?" Ellis's voice was soft as she put the brush back into the bottle, handing it to Link, who twisted it closed. "I want to go back to school and the park." He pouted his lip, shaking his hand in the air to dry it.

"We don't know, Elle. But we can help by staying in the house. That way, we stay safe." The little girl sighed. "Why don't you go see if your siblings want to watch a movie?" She jumped out of her chair and ran towards the stairs, leaving Amelia and Link alone in the kitchen.

"How much convincing did she have to do to get that nail polish on you?" He shrugged and stood up.

"Not much, actually. She's super cute when she wants things, and it was pretty easy." Amelia grinned as she placed the plate into the microwave, clicking the start button. He walked towards her, placing a hand on her waist.

"Oh, your nails probably aren't dry," she muttered, moving away to reveal the smudged polish.

"Ah. I'm not yet used to having to worry about that." He brought his fingers up to his mouth and blew on them. The kids all came running down the stairs, arguing about which movie they would watch. "Hey, be quiet, remember! Scout's asleep," Link walked into the living room and leaned against the doorway. "Okay, you need to agree on a movie, or we don't watch a movie." They sighed simultaneously before returning to their debate.

"I have no idea how much longer we can keep doing this," she muttered, walking up behind her boyfriend. "Quarantine. I mean, it's only been a week, and they're already completely bored with us."

"We'll keep finding fun things to do. Just take it one day at a time, keep repainting my nails every time I smudge them," he chuckled, glancing down at his hand.

"I don't think we have any nail polish remover. So, you're probably stuck with those for a while." He shrugged.

"It's okay. Ellis would just want to redo it if I removed it, anyway." She smirked and leaned against his side.

"You're a pretty amazing Uncle; you know that?"

[hyperfixationtimego]

Happy little hcs to atone for my sins

Taka and Hina are study buddies

Sometimes Aoi manages to get Taka off track because she’s just so enthusiastic and wants to hear about all of her friends’ hyperfixations and special interests

37.2 minutes later

Taka’s infodumping about how he despises moral philosophy but also thoroughly enjoys it bc that’s how moral philosophers are

Or he’s infodumping about political science and debate tactics and how speeches were effective or not for various reasons

Sakura and Mondo work out together

It started off as a coincidence when they were in the gym at the same time but it kept happening so they called it a schedule

They talk about their SOs and they’re smiling

Sakura teaches Mondo certain stretches and exercises to help relax different muscle groups for whenever he pulls a muscle or has a flare up from the thing with the bikes

Leon constantly asks Chihiro to turn alter ego into a vocaloid or at least program a bit of that tech into their system

Bc he would rather shave his head again than talk to Sayaka about producing music

He just has so many ideas

And it’s cool when there are kinda punk rock songs that are covered in an 8-bit or a vocaloid style

Byakuya and Celeste have a small series of bets with low stakes about what their inferiors classmates will do to lead up to them jingling away morosely like the fools they are

Sayaka shamelessly advertises her group’s mercy to her classmates and friends

Everyone gets their nails painted at some point

Nobody knows how Byakuya got roped into it but it worked

Makoto has rainbow loom

Atua forgives you

anyway YEAH LEGIT?

Hina has fully and thoroughly fallen in love with all of her friends and classmates’ expressions whenever they’re talking about something that excites them omg 🥺

she sees someone rambling and having a good time and hears the enthusiastic pitch of their voice as well as the general Vibe™️ that they’re giving off and she just???? [Y E A R N]

:)

and also just???? her and taka being study buddies is so valid oh my god??? they’re really close because of it!!! And Taka always loves hanging out with her because he knows she’ll let him just Talk??? and he adores that about her????? And she’ll be ENGAGED which!!!!!! oh my god!!!!?????

hi in this house we love and adore hina

And Sakura and Mondo???? absolutely?????

they have friendly competitions over who can lift the most weights/do the most reps/etc. (they do it sparingly, ofc! bc Sakura at least knows that they’ll both be subconsciously trying to beat the other as opposed to listening to what their bodies need in the moment. Sakura is the single braincell of class 78 no I won’t take it back because it’s true)

and they totally doooooo like they both get such cute loveydovey pining expressions whenever it’s Their Turn™️ to discuss the latest cute thing their partner(s) did. and listening to the other talking???? oh my god it’s literally the neatest thing????

Sakura looking at Mondo: I would die for this man

Mondo looking at Sakura: this woman is literally beauty and perfection in human form

THEY’RE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS OKAY???

also chihiro joins them for training sometimes!!!! She obviously isn’t able to do as much as the other two are, but both Sakura and Mondo are always so proud of her progress??? They’re like “you are so cool and strong do you know that??? you better know that”

and speaking of chihiro hdbdvdvdvdvdvdvdvd on GOD Leon will Not leave them alone abt it and they’re just like

“y....you do NOT have the attention span,.......you’re gonna get frustrated within like the first five minutes......and then I’ll have done all that work for nothing..............”

but Leon’s >:( no I won’t!!!! music is my Passion!!!!!!!!

so it’s like *sigh* okay

and anyway leon genuinely does rlly like it???? like he gets burned out very easily and can only compose things in short bursts, but he’s always so so so proud of the finished products??? (Even if nobody else likes it but shush 😌)

and it makes chihiro :D to know that something she made (even if it was done with reluctance) has brought one of her closest friends so much happiness????? she’s also like good for Leon but also if he ever bothers them about something like that again they are Literally Going to Snap but that’s another story for another day vwv

AND YEAH LIKE. HE DOESN’T MIND TALKING TO HER ABT MUSIC IN GENERAL BECAUSE IT’S AN INTEREST THEY SHARE (quite possibly one of the only times they will have a conversation without one constantly insulting the other ❤️) BUT. ADMITTING TO HER THAT HE NEEDS HELP WITH IT IS THE WORST HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HSBDBSBD

god okay so. his first impression of her when they had just come to hope’s peak and met for the first time was “oh my god!!! she’s a pop idol!!! so she must know a lot about music!!! maybe she’ll help me become a popular musician!!!” and her immediate reaction when she first heard him ask was to literally roll her eyes and he was like oh okay fuck her actually

and then slow burn enemies-to-friends 💛

WHEBDVSVS CELESTE AND BYAKUYA JUST BEING RICH ASSHOLES IS SO FUNNY??? LIKE THEY HAVE WEALTH SOLIDARITY AND THEY ACT ALMOST LIKE alright your status makes you worthy of my time, I suppose-

they’ve had bets on everything from how many times kirigiri will pass out from exhaustion by the end of the school day, to how long it’ll take before Kirumi finally Loses Her Shit, to how many people will be harmed by Komaeda’s luck while hanging out with him.

Mfs about to die smh

and dhdbwvwbsvwvwb yeah like??? sometimes a normal conversation with maizono will turn into her being like “yeah, and by the way, if you’re looking for a change of style and wardrobe, you should check out the newest shirt my band just released as part of our merch drop, and-”

Makoto is the one who gets baited into her merch ads most often sndbsbsbdbdbw

even mentioning the word “merch” around Leon or Kaz will earn her a lot of groaning and sighing, and occasionally a pillow or other soft object being hurled at her face 💛

oh my god they all have a manicure spa day,,,,,,,class bonding 🥺

hdbdvdvdv they got Jill to break into his dorm and kidnap him ngl like the specifics they gave her were something along the lines of “use as much force as you need to without killing him” and she was like “DONE”

and okay I’m not gonna talk abt everyone’s nails but now I’m thinking about it and like-

Sayaka gets like a lighter violet background with gold and white stars smattered around them, more concentrated in some areas than others, and it’s generally very pretty 🥺

chihiro’s are a different solid pastel color on each finger!!! it’s very kidcore and fun and they love it so muchhhh!!!

leon gets a little self-conscious when it’s his turn because his nails are highkey disgusting from all the time he spends playing baseball - there’s dirt trapped under them and everything so he’s just like hhhhhhh anxiety go brrrr but anyway he gets solid black because he’s edgy and cool like that 😎

I think Taka gets a French manicure with little dark red flowers pressed towards the tips because!!! simple yet pretty!!!

Celeste probably takes the longest because her request is sooooo complicated like it’s black and red and long ass acrylics with overlapping patterns and everyone else just kinda sits there feeling h o r r i b l e for that poor nail stylist

Toko gets a checkerboard pattern, with each nail having a different neon color in place of white!!! Because she knows that Jill will find it cool and pretty and colorful the next time she fronts (visual stimming jill?? 👀)

Togami just picks whatever will get him out of the chair quickest hdbsvdvdvdbdbdb

anyway Makoto????? rainbow loom????? absolutely

he has so many bracelets!!!!! so many so many so many and he knows how to create such a wide variety of styles it’s so cool!!!!!! he wears a bunch of them at any given time because they are so fun to fidget with!!!! and rubber texture hvvvvhvv!!!!

and he creates personalized ones for his friends, too, like he knows their favorite colors and sometimes picks up on whether they prefer a certain style or not from the way they react to the other ones he’s made and it’s!!! just so neat!!!!!

I’m thinking about it and!!! he has a bi pride fishtail, a trans pride arrow stitch, a black and neon green railroad, a pastel pink/blue/purple/yellow ladder, a jelly yellow and green dragon scale, a rainbow double cross, and a bunch more!!! he also has a bunch with charms and beads added into them!!!!

He also makes them for his friends even if he knows they won’t wear them!! Like Toko, for example, isn’t the biggest fan of jewelry because she doesn’t like the texture, but he creates one for her anyway and fills it with so much love (it looks like a daisy chain!!!! because at least she’ll be able to look at it and hold it and still be interested in it without it needing to be on her wrist!!!)

he makes a ton of bright colored ones for Mukuro (usually either single or inverted fishtail because he knows she wouldn’t enjoy wearing anything too heavy or overbearing) so that she has more mobile visual stims!!!

similar for Jill!! although most of hers tend to be black and bright neon rainbow in various bulkier styles!!!! Jill will also force him to let her look at his bracelet-covered arm whenever they hang out because. my god,,,,,,so many Colors™️

he’s found that togami prefers black and white simpler styles, and that Kyoko absolutely adores singles, fishtails, and double fishtails in any shade of purple, and that Mondo likes any of the larger styles in darker colors + blacks and grays!!! Chihiro loves anything with jelly and glitter bands!!!

Leon usually only wears one at a time, but he cycles through every single one that his boyfriend’s ever made for him because????? GOD they’re so cool and his boyfriend is so crafty and incredible and just,,,,,,,,,hvvvhvv every time he looks at the one he’s wearing he’s able to calm himself down and remember that Makoto loves him........it’s also very good for stim and fidgeting <3

anyways sorry yes Makoto with a rainbow loom is filling me with serotonin and it’s canon now

[tsuzuruchipalace]

rating mankai company based on character design

Note: I will take into account hair, color scheme, sprite poses, mostly outfits that are not from plays or scouts, and memorability. This is half an objective view and half my personal opinion.

Disclaimer: I curse a lot for comedic effort. I am mean because I am funny. No, you cannot disagree.

Spring 🌸

sakuya: you get what you see. a literal spring babey. his hair and color scheme’s a little generic, but he’s mankai’s poster boy, so that’s understandable. speaking of generic, his main pose is just this emoji 🧍‍♂️ his outfits tend to be kinda basic, but any outfit with a mostly pink top gets him bonus points. 6/10

masumi: okay his hair is elite. probably one of the most memorable character design aspects among the cast. his mole and eyes also make him very pretty. love my boy’s dark color scheme. unfortunately, points must be docked for baiting us with the emo fit, then as the story progresses, he starts dressing like the trust fund kid he is smh. 9/10

tsuzuru: i love you tsuzu but. my mans is so basic. if he didn’t have such a great personality, he’d be as bland as untoasted white bread. the saya of a3. his best design aspect is the fact that he doesn’t dye his roots. his outfits look comfy, but not necessarily eye-catching. 4/10

itaru: everyone who starts a3! with no knowledge of these characters has one (1) thought about itaru. sec sea man. so obviously there’s something appealing/good about his character design. i think part of the appeal is his fuck-all demeanor. obviously, his eyes and hairstyle are attractive, but the way the artists draw him gives him an air of not caring, which is also attractive in a way. his dyed tips are also nice. he looks kinda lame when he dresses professionally, but his casual outfits hit. especially the ones with light pink. 8/10

citron: although i’m not a big fan of the “character is foreign and therefore must talk and dress different and be funny” trope in these types of media, his fashion does make him stand out from the other characters who tend to have more basic clothes. citron’s summer, travel, and autumn outfits SLAP and anyone who says otherwise has bad taste. his hair and eyes are interesting, but his overall color scheme can be a bit repetitive. 7/10

chikage: i hate this guy’s fucking bowlcut. fucking salad bowl lookin ass. every outfit is the same turtleneck and sneakers in two alternate colors. his outfits are so plain. only thing i like is his casual outfit glasses. HOWEVER. that’s the point. he’s supposed to look boring and blend in because he’s a spy. it’s a smart design, i just don’t like it so im docking points. stay mad about it. 5/10

Summer ☀️

tenma: im yawning. you think tsuzu was boring? this guy has orange hair and i still find his design boring. that’s how you know he’s basic. he’s got generic messy shounen protag hair. he could be from any property. if i drew fanart of him, people would ask where he’s from. he either dresses like your slightly homophobic frat boy classmate or a grandfather who gets his shit stolen by the asshole kids next door. 2/10

yuki: he has the r a n g e. all of yuki’s casual outfits hit. they’re all different, but cute in their own way. to no one’s surprise, one of the best styled characters. though i like his general color scheme, i’m personally not the biggest fan of his hairstyle. it’s okay, but a little plain at times. but i think it suits him well. 7/10

muku: i love him. muku’s design is what i love about this game. you see him, and you immediately know what his character archtype is supposed to be. he’s the soft, cute boy. and if this was a mediocre series, that’d be all muku is. but since this is a3, he’s so much more than that. he’s smart, passionate, sensitive to others’ feelings, and protective. a3 does a great job designing characters that look exactly like their archtype, but having a much more developed personality than that. getting back to the actual subject at hand, i love his hairstyle and color, as well as his outfits. you can never go wrong with light pink hair. i may be biased but fuck you. 10/10

misumi: another great memorable design. his eye shape and hair style are really unique. his outfits also elevate his design. street fashion is always a plus for me. though sumi’s design is special in the world of a3! where most of the characters are just. guys. regular lookin dudes. i think that outside of the game, his design would not be as unique. 8/10

kazunari: personally, im a fan. maybe it’s cause i have an affinity for blonde anime boys. but his hairstyle is pretty unique and his trendy looks set him apart from most characters, even outside this game. and he has a pretty lovable expression in his sprites. his fatal flaw is that his fits are either a hit or miss. they’re either really cute or wtf. at least he’s memorable. 8/10

kumon: i love that he reminds me of an owl. his hair and eyes are very cute and his color scheme is great. and i think they did a great job making him look related to juza, but still very much his own character. but he dresses like your classmate from middle school that looks like a nike-sponsored highlighter. yeah, he’s the sporty one, and i like the windbreakers but... i cannot excuse his summer fit. also, i find his design a little tame compared to some of the other characters in the game. 6/10

Autumn 🍂

banri: i hate his hair. i hate it so much. i know in canon it’s nice and he takes good care of it, but it looks so fucking greasy. the style makes him look so greasy and it makes me mad. he looks like an asshole. i mean, he is, so it fits. if this dumb bitch changed his hair more often, i’d like his design so much more. you saw this coming; his love for cheetah print is fucking repulsive. BUT, maybe unpopular opinion, minus the animal print, his sense of fashion is not bad. why do yall clown on it. if the fit is fresh, the fit is fresh. anyway, he looks like an ass, but objectively his design is kinda eh. 5/10

juza: im sorry im DEADLY fucking biased when it comes to juza, but he’s so handsome. his hair is a such a rich, pretty shade of purple and his eyes are so mesmerizing. his hairstyle is so attractive. his face is so pretty. yeah his design isn’t crazy unique, but the simplicity just works. im so sorry im this man’s whore i didn’t choose this life... but i can stop being a simp for one second to say that he has a boring fashion sense. i mean it’s kinda hot how simple his outfits are but his travel fit is good-- wait a minute i just remembered the fucking sandals. docking one point. 9/10

taichi: okay shut the fuck up i LOVE taichi’s design. so eye-catching and fun. as i’ve said i love street fashion, and taichi’s lil e-boy fits are right up my alley. that shade of bright red goes so well with his fashion sense, making a really cohesive design. with his main outfit, you can tell he purposely dresses like that to be trendy and it’s so smart. 10/10

omi: im sorry omi stans but his design is kinda,, boring. i legit had such a hard time identifying him when i first got into this game. the scar saves it a bit. but... only a bit. he’s just got. hair. and a dad outfit. i mean his tits are huge, but i don’t think i can call that a character design aspect. kinda forgettable design. i don’t dislike it though, so he ranks higher than tenma did. 3/10

sakyo: im not sure why but i really like sakyo’s design?? the contrast of his light hair and his dark clothes is nice. also, megane rights. even when i thought he was an npc during my first playthrough, i really dug his design and thought he was memorable. i actually cannot pinpoint a reason why. i wish i had more constructive things to say... but upon thinking about it, he has a karen haircut, which kinda dampers my thoughts on his design. i like his moles, but i honestly did not notice them until the game pointed them out. 7/10

azami: azami has a damn good design. i don’t think anyone can deny that. the long hair, the contrast of black hair and bright blue eyes, his eye shape. all very eye-catching design aspects. and the street fashion style strikes again. the color scheme matches well with everything. this review is lame, but there’s really only good things i can say about his design so. 10/10

Winter ❄️

tsumugi: it’s so late and im so tired of looking at these sprites. anyway, tsumugi’s design is okay. i think his color scheme’s a bit limited and his outfits are a bit meh. he has a more respectable bowlcut than chikage, but it’s still a bowlcut and it’s still boring. i think the best part of his design is his eyes, they’re very soft and kind. but other than that, tsumugi looks pretty basic. 5/10

tasuku: tbh, i didn’t even realize that the godza member tasuku was the same character as the winter troupe guy in the game’s opening until the middle of episode 3... yeah. im slow. ooooooor... tasuku has the worst fucking design in the game. yeah i said it. come at me, but tasuku’s design fucking sucks. i literally thought he was a minor character until they forced me to realize he wasn’t. his fashion sense is... questionable at best. i look at that man’s hair and think he doesn’t shampoo. he looks so bland i could dry up from looking at him. im sorry but his tits do not make up for the sheer fucking snorefest of his character design. he’s so boring i won’t elaborate anymore. 1/10

hisoka: ya get what ya see part 2. i like that i can tell he’s the sleepy and mysterious character just by his design, but honestly, that’s a character trope im generally not a big fan of. so i wasn’t thrilled by hisoka’s design at first. but it’s effective. i like the hairstyle with the white hair, but i’m not too fond of his color scheme. his outfits look comfy and soft though. it makes sense, but it’s nothing too memorable if you compare him to characters outside the game. 5/10.

homare: ah, now this is a memorable character design. his hairstyle annoyed me in the beginning, but now i love it. it’s so unique and fun. and i like the purple. i also like his outfits. very classy. but honestly, most of his charisma lies in his face. i think that the pure eccentricity of the hairstyle is enough to put him in the top tier without considering any other element. you really could not find this design in any other media. fuck it. i don’t need to consider anything else. 9/10

azuma: i’ll be honest. im not a fan of long-haired anime men. especially the pretty, flirty types. i don’t know, i just don’t vibe with them. originally, i didn’t like azuma’s design, but now i do. i don’t know how, but i think it’s because azuma is just that powerful. his ponytail makes it more bearable for me and i like the way his bangs frame his face. he just has pretty eyes and face. unfortunately his color scheme is a little too repetitive for me and his casual outfits are a little boring. 6/10

guy: maybe it’s because he looks dead inside, but i love him. i don’t even know this character that well yet, but i think his deadass expression is great. the darker under-eyeline sets him apart from the other characters and i love how he dresses. i think his hair is kinda eh. i personally like it, but objectively, it’s meh. it’s a solid design, but ngl it’s nothing special when i really think about it. 6/10

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Only Mine Pt. 3

A/N: I know this is a part 3, so it’s on the verge of a mini series, but I got this idea and thought it would be cool so we’re going with it. aLsO I know Instagram and most social media and modern iPhones were not around during the Black Parade era of 2007. But let’s all just pretend like they were for the sake of this fic. Also, if you have ever been to a Taylor Swift concert, I’m pretty sure you’ll understand that the entire things is based off of one, specifically 1989 (my favorite era if we’re being honest). Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Words: 3,270 Warnings: Mentions of sex, a bit of swearing.

You could feel the corset back of your bodysuit be tightened and tied once again, after dozens of times. This was not your first rodeo.

Playing in front of over 150,000 people may have seemed impossible even a year ago. But the huge demand of fans and observers to see your tour led your record label to agree to send you on a solo stadium tour, something you had never done before.

“On in 5.” One of the stage crew walked back into your suite behind the stage to tell you. You nodded, looking over to your best friend, Y/B/F/N.

“You ready for another one?” You rolled your eyes and lightly laughed.

“I don’t think I was ever ready to go on a tour and play in front of this many people.” You admitted, getting up, “But I need to be.” She tightly smiled at you.

“Hey, you’re absolutely incredible at this. Like genuinely, fucking great.” She smiled. You had begged her months ago to go on tour with you as a companion. Ideally, your husband would have been the one to go with you, but he was touring at the exact same time. So obviously, that wouldn’t have worked out.

“Thanks.” You gave her a tight hug, her doing the same back, as the two of you walked out and into the main area behind the stage.

Going on tour had been exciting and fun in every way, but draining for so many reasons. You hadn’t seen Gerard in over six months until the night prior when he willingly flew in during a one week break MCR had from touring, so he could visit you. And, well, be a surprise guest for the show in New Jersey. Because who else would you have invited?

You had even put a sneak peek on your Instagram story earlier that morning, being up on your ginormous stage with a runway spanning over 70 feet and curving around so you could see everyone who was there. The free light-up bracelets everyone got helped too (if you’ve ever been to or seen a Taylor Swift concert, you know what I mean).

“Hey guys,” You smiled while recording yourself in one of your tour hoodies, during rehearsal on stage, “I’m super super excited because tonight, at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, we have a very special guest. They’re literally one of my favorite people ever, if not my favorite person, and they’re so extremely talented. They’re so important to me, and I consider myself maybe their number one fan.” You lightly laughed before turning it off and posting it to your story.

“Already dropping hints, huh?” You heard Gerard walk the stage from behind you. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course I did Gee.” You smiled, “I’m just too excited!” He smiled back.

“How do you do this every night, by the way?” He asked, arms crossed with a water bottle in one of his hands. His hair was a mess, as per usual, and he had a jean jacket on.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “You just kinda get used to it.”

“It’s just so incredible,” He sighed, “I mean, genuinely, I don’t know how you do it.” You nudged him playfully.

“Oh please, Gee, you’re an absolute beast while you’re performing.”

“Makes sense, you’re the beauty.” You nudged him again, this time a little harder.

“You’re so cheesy sometimes.”

You walked out below the stage to where an elevator would lift you up onto it. Your nerves will still co-exist with your mind, as you took a single deep breath to calm you down. You and all your backup singers, dancers, and the band all put yourself in a circle, with your hands in the middle. “Ready guys?” You asked and everyone hummed and nodded with smiles, “I don’t know why but I feel like tonight's just going to be awesome.” You smiled. “3, 2, 1... Midnight!” Everyone shouted, cheering, and breaking away. The entire crew dispersed to their own areas where they would go out on stage as you prepared to be lifted up.

You weren’t sure whether it was the crowd or the fact your lover was there. Of course, Gerard has seen the show before. He was at the first one in a reserved section of the floor that was completely isolated from everyone with a minibar even where family and friends sat. And celebrities were invited. That entire show was basically you serenading him in front of almost 100,000 people by stealing glances during songs (all of which were about him) and motioning your hands and such towards that area. And you knew he noticed by the way his smile grew even wider than before whenever you did. And tonight would of course be no different.

“So what should I do?” He asked, standing next to you during rehearsal as you two began to plot and plan what would happen.

“Just be you.” You said.

“Babe,” He began, “I love you, like a lot, but I don’t know if me doing my usual thing is best.”

“Why not?” You pouted with a frown, “You’re fucking amazing on stage!” You argued.

“Because I tend to go a little wild, ya know, stage Gerard is different than normal Gerard-”

“Yes, I know, and that’s fine.” You insisted, “But, and trust me when I say this, stage Gerard tends to be more entertaining for a large crowd than normal Gerard. No offense.”

“No, you’re right,” He agreed, “But, ya know, we can get destructive sometimes.”

“Well you don’t get really destructive when you’re by yourself,” You said right back, “If Frank were here, that would be a different discussion.” He lightly chuckled, almost under his breath.

“You sure?” He asked again, “I mean, you’re a pop princess, and I’m a rock dude who kinda does random stupid shit like a 14-year-old with no understanding of what consequences are.”

“And love,” You told him, grabbing one of his hands, “That’s exactly what I want you to fucking do.”

The first part of the show went exactly as planned, everything went smoothly, and the crowd was incredible, to say the least. It seemed like everyone knew all the lyrics which made your heart flutter, and your glances and gestures towards Gerard always resulted in a little smirk or smile from it. You could’ve sworn you could see his blush through the nearly blinding stage lights.

It was time for another outfit change, this time Gerard would be backstage preparing for his section on stage, considering you had another song, then he would come on, then a few more before the finale. You crawled through some of the spaces in the back, running to the makeshift changing room. You saw him right outside, doing some vocal warm ups, but the moment he heard you he looked up and smiled, you return the gesture. “You’re doing incredible.” He told you, approaching you. You leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Thanks, babe.” You smiled, “I wish we could talk more but I gotta, ya know-” You motioned to the black box of a changing room behind you.

“Yeah, right, of course.” You ran in, stripping off your first bodysuit, with a second layer of spandex under it, with a group of three on your team getting you into your second bodysuit, this one a dark purple instead of light blue, and changing some minor aspects of your makeup like eye shadow color and lip color.

Running back out, you couldn’t help but notice Gerard’s stares of awe and confusion. “H-how’d you do that?” He asked, dumbfounded. You couldn’t help but laugh considering he had been in this business a few years longer than you.

“Magic!” You yelled back at him while running back to the stage door.

You crouched down again on the platform as it lifted you up, the music begging to play. You only had Cruel Summer, a relatively shorter song to play, before you could finally announce one of the most exciting things of all tour.

Once you finished the song you had to wait a few seconds, just standing there and smiling waiting for the crowd to settle down. “So guys,” You began, walking around the stage for a bit, “I don’t know how many of you may have seen this, but I posted something on my Instagram story today,” You smiled even more as the crowd cheered once again, “And I have a special guest for all of you to meet. He’s honestly the most incredible, genuine human being alive. I feel very lucky to be able to have in my life, and I don’t know what I would do without him. And I thought because we’re in New Jersey,” You shrugged, “There wouldn’t be anyone better to bring here tonight, so please, help me welcome Mr. Gerard Way!”

You could’ve sworn that you had heard the loudest crowds ever, but were you wrong. The moment you mentioned “Gerard” it was as if you were giving away free money, you were sure every person in that stadium was screaming to their fullest potential, it was almost deafening.

From the backstage lift your husband appeared, in his usual black jeans and leather jacket. Even better, one of your tour shirts on. You smiled at him as he smiled right back walking down the stage to where you were, the intro to Teenagers was already playing, everyone's light up bands turning red so the entire stadium was the color.

Gerard began singing as the crowd sang along. You could’ve sworn they were just as loud as you two were. What made it all the better was the level of cheers when he did his typical hip moves and bounced his leg to the beat. You could see a small smile form on his face, breaking his usual stage persona by the crowd’s reaction.

“Because, they sleep with a gun, and keep an eye on you, son, so they can watch all the things you do.” You sang next as he stopped to let you shine a bit before continuing the song on his own until the chorus where the two of you sang together.

You had to admit, you missed rock performances primarily because you could do whatever you wanted for no reason and people loved it. So naturally, both you and Gerard were jumping around and practically yelling, but the crowd seemed to love it.

Both of you stage personas took over which resulted in more PDA than usual, including a lot of close duets where you two were within an inch of one another, making deep eye contact while singing. The fans ate it up, yelling every time you two got within a reasonable vicinity of the other. Everyone seemed fascinated by the chemistry you two had, but you weren’t complaining.

By the end of the song, you two were standing next to each other at the end of the runway, smiling as the crowd roared like never before. You both looked out happier than ever, then back at each other where you smiled once again. While the crowd was still going crazy. “Can we give it up one for time for Gerard?” You asked, and even more, cheers erupted. You had never heard a crowd go this nuts before. Gerard smiled, even more, leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, everyone!” He smiled, “And I have to give an even bigger thank you, to my wonderful, beautiful, talented wife beside me.” More people cheered, “She genuinely one of the kindest, and considerate people I’ve ever met. I feel incredibly blessed every day to have her be my wife, and she amazes me with everything she does.” He smiled, “So why don’t we give a quick round of applause to her too?” He turned to you and more of the crowd screamed and clapped in response. You scrunched your nose, smiling at him in an attempt to hide the growing blush on your cheeks. The two of you walked back up the runway and to the back, down the elevator together, Gerard giving a final wave.

One you two were out of sight, you looked up and just hugged him, squeezing him as tight as you could, him doing the same back. “You’re so perfect it hurts.” You told him, as he looked down at you smiling, his hand still on your waist.

“Can I be honest?” You nodded, “That was one of the hottest things I have ever seen.” You nudged him lightly, in a playful manner rolling your eyes. “What? I can’t say anything about my wife singing my song? Damn your hips were moving so right and-”

“Okay, c’mon lover boy, I’ve got a show I gotta get back to.” You reminded him, pulling away so you could get changed again. You could hear a light whine he let out in protest as you walked to your dressing room again, but you chose to ignore it.

You changed only two more times before the show was over. After the finale, you, the dancers, backup singers, and band all taking bows, you waved once more going back down to under the stage where you took off all your equipment and sighed in relief. Another successful show completed.

The adrenaline was still pumping through your brain as your boots clicked in the hallways of the empty backstage arena, into your dressing room. You first removed your makeup, redoing it to look more natural, and changing from the sequence dress you wore during the last song into a pair of jeans and a solid-colored sweatshirt.

While you were putting on one of your pairs of sneakers you heard a knock on the door. “Come in.” You responded. Opening the door, Gerard appeared on the other side, smiling and closing it behind him. “Hey.” You smiled back.

“Hey, babe.” He said, leaning on the wall beside the door. “You did incredibly amazing.” You lightly laughed.

“Thanks.” You got up from where you were sitting on the couch, walking over to him and placing your arms loosely over his arms and behind his neck. “I couldn’t have done it without my special guest.”

“Well, yeah, you probably could have-” You placed your lips on his, immediately making him go quiet.

“Just shut up and take the compliment, Way.”

“Only if you insist, Way.”

“I gotta go meet some fans.” You pulled away, grabbing your water bottle and taking a sip. “You coming with?” He gave you a confused look. “Oh, c’mon,” You grabbed his hand, “They’re gonna freak.”

You never did paid meet and greets. Instead, you had hand-selected some of the fans to meet you after the show for free or had some people in your team go and find some lucky fans who you would meet. But tonight they would get a two for one with both you and Gerard. “Stay right here.” You whispered to him when you got to the meet and greet area, you two hiding behind a curtain. He nodded.

You walked through the black felt, as all dozen of the fans looked up to you wide-eyed, one of them even screaming. “Hey, guys!” You said, which resulted in all of them screaming, and one of them began to cry. “Oh my gosh.” You looked at her. She couldn’t have been much older than 16. But when she looked up, you immediately knew who she was. “Hi, Rachel.” You said. At that, she began sobbing more. “Can I give you a hug?” You asked, trying to calm her down. She nodded frantically as you wrapped your arms around her, and she hung onto you for dear life. “Don’t cry!” You insisted.

After talking to each of them individually for a few minutes it was finally time for a photo op. “By the way guys,” You said, “I have one more surprise.” You smiled, going back to the curtain that you emerged from previously. You looked at Gerard, who got the cue to come out. Of course, the fans gasped again as they saw him standing there now next to you. “This is my husband, Gerard, he was the guy on stage with me. And he’s the lead singer of this really awesome band called My Chemical Romance.”

“Uh, yeah, duh.” One of the girls, Lyla, said and you all laughed.

One by one you took photos with the fans and the people they came with, some of them doing poses and such which both you and Gerard were down to do. You also handed out free merch bags, which had some collectible items that were exclusive to only the fans who had been invited backstage.

You said goodbye to all of them, leaving you, Gerard, and some of the team plus security behind. The two of you walked back to your large dressing room, grabbing your personal belongings, and going out back where a car was to pick you up and bring you back to the hotel.

In the backseat of the solid black car, you couldn’t help but lay your head on Gerard’s shoulder, having not done so in months. Everything from his scent to the feel of his various jackets on your cheeks always put your mind to ease. You could feel his hand on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance that he was there.

The car ride was silent. Not an awkward silence, but more of an enjoyable one. Just the presence of one another was enough to occupy your minds from any conversation.

Once you had reached the hotel, you two walked in hand and hand with security around you and up to your room. Inside the suite, you couldn’t help but take off your shoes and immediately sit down on the bed. “I’m really tired.” You admitted, “I’m sorry.” You looked up at your husband who couldn’t help but have an extremely confused look on his face.

“Why’re you apologizing?”

“Just because we would usually, well ya know, have sex which I’m pretty sure was on both of our agendas today.”

“Babe, you just performed a sold-out show in front of over 150,000 people. The last thing I want you to do is to worry about sex.”

“Okay,” You huffed, “I’m going to take a shower.” You got up giving him a quick kiss.

“I’ll be waiting for you, love.” He smiled. You got into the bathroom, closing the door, and stripping yourself of your current clothes. You took a quick and speedy shower. Considering your current state of being tired, you knew if you didn’t get in and out of there you would have just fallen asleep.

You changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, walking back out to find Gerard, comfortably suited on his side of the bed in his pajamas, reading a book. You went over, climbing next to you, prompting him to put the novel down. “You can continue to read with one of the lights.” You told him, feeling partially guilty.

“No need,” He said, “As cheesy as this is going to sound, I’ve been thinking about cuddling with you for months now.” He slumped down so he was parallel with the bed. You lightly smiled, moving closer. He wrapped his hands around your waist and onto your back, letting your place your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“Thanks, Gee.” You responded, “I would’ve never gotten here if it wasn’t for my wonderful muse.”

[yastaghr]

Nightmare’s Gang of Wranglers 3

Summary: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

Link: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

The first ride of the trip was always the most problematic. This trip was no exception. Nightmare had sighed when Ink had lost his stirrups the first time. The next three times had been annoying. After that it had ceased to be annoying and started to become funny. Rustle wasn’t going to let him fall, and it wasn’t like Nightmare himself hadn’t ridden without stirrups before. Just so long as he kept his heels down Nightmare would be happy.

But that was just the start of the problems. Dream was turning out to be just as annoying as he knew he’d be, but for an entirely different problem. That problem had a name. His name was Cross. Cross, apparently, hadn’t taken enough heed of all the stories Nightmare had shared with his gang about Dream. Cross was too thirsty for that. He was taking full advantage of his position behind Dream to watch his ass. Yes, he said it was because he wanted to be sure of the other’s seat, but Nightmare knew better. One, he knew that Dream’s seat was impeccable, and two, he could see the purple blush on Cross’ cheeks. He was just lucky that Dream didn’t notice. He would only pay for ogling a client, not for trying to go behind Killer’s and Nightmare’s backs.

The next problem was Dust. It was always like this; as soon as he thought Nightmare had gone out of his hearing range he started talking to his brother. Nightmare sighed. Blue didn’t seem too disturbed, but that couldn’t be said of his pony. Berry hadn’t ridden near Dust recently, so the gelding must have forgotten about his chattering. His ears were constantly swiveled back, but Blue seemed to be handling him well. His seat was good and his hands were soft even as he maintained control over the horse. That made Nightmare feel better about letting him stay there.

The last problem, and one that Nightmare had been predicting, was Ink’s paints. Their sloshing around was scaring the pack train. Blood and Sugar eventually had the whole line stop so they could redistribute the load. That seemed to calm down the mules, but Cherry was being his usual spooky self. That was okay. They were used to Cherry’s spookiness.

Nightmare was impressed when they made the first stopping place in reasonable time. He had allowed for much more malarky than actually occurred. Unfortunately it looked like they needed that time. The camp was in shambles. If Nightmare had to guess he would have said that a herd of elk had bedded down there recently. The trees were still leaking sap, the grass was laid flat by the weight of those sleeping bodies, and the tents that were the sleeping areas were torn to the ground. Nightmare sighed. It would take at least an hour to fix everything.

His crew immediately ground tied their horses and got to work. Dust and Blood saw to the grass, fluffing it up so that the horses could actually eat. Cross set to gathering firewood and wiping down the trees. Sugar looked after the pack train. Error used his strings to fix the tents, and Killer helped Ink to dismount. Dream and Blue had gotten down and were looking around.

“How can we help, brother?” Dream said instantly, Blue right beside him. Nightmare blinked his one eye at him. He hadn’t expected them to want to help.

“Why don’t you… help Sugar unload the food for tonight?” He eventually said. He still didn’t trust his brother, not after what he had done, but he knew that unpacking the mules would be very hard to mess up.

Dream and Blue nodded, ground tied their horses, and walked calmly over to Sugar. Good. They at least knew better than to spook the horses.

=====

Killer’s soft voice interrupted his focus on his brother. “Somebody’s got a crush, huh?”

Nightmare spun to face him. Killer had his signature grin on his face, and his soul was beating at a speed Nightmare recognized as happy. Nightmare relaxed slightly and said, “I didn’t realise Cross was being so obvious. He’s been ogling Dream’s ass this entire time.”

Killer chuckled. Nightmare didn’t see what was so funny. “Yeah, Cross. The big guy’s always had a soft spot for people who dote on the horses.”

Nightmare tilted his head. He didn’t particularly remember Cross being like that in the past, but Killer was miles away more observant than he was. That was why Nightmare trusted him to be his second in command. He was a general; Killer was his chief of intelligence. Neither of them could operate without the other. And they both needed Cross to keep the peace between them and guard against the dangers of the road.

“Well, he’d better be prepared to meet the consequences of his actions. Dream is a client, and he is definitely not a part of our relationship. What would you say would be an appropriate punishment? 15 lashes?”

Killer grinned. If there was ever a monster who was the definition of a sadist, it was Killer.  “Oh, at least. I’d say we edge him a few times, too.”

Nightmare shook his head. He had the final say in this, and he thought that that was going a bit too far. “It’s only been a few hours, Killer. If he continues this behaviour tomorrow, then we can think about edging him. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Killer said, saluting. Then he wandered off to begin unsaddling the horses for the night and getting everything ready for supper.

=====

Blue was fascinated by the fire. He could vaguely hear the rest of the Star Sanses and Nightmare’s Gang moving around, setting up things for the night, cooking food on the other side of the fire, and, in Ink’s case, chattering away. None of that really mattered to him right now, though. His whole attention was consumed by the fire.

It had been so long since he had seen an untamed fire like this. When he was younger he saw them every weekend while his Dad was still alright and well. Then, after his accident, Blue had seen them every night as he struggled to raise a child all on his own. Then Stretch had grown up enough to say he hated the smell of smoke and that was that. Blue hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now.

Blue’s hypnotized state ended when one of Nightmare’s Gang sat next to him and passed him a cup. Blue looked into it. It seemed to have… ketchup?

“Here, drink it. I’ve never met a Sans who didn’t like a condiment, and you’re pretty cute, so enjoy,” The stranger said. His voice was deeper than Blue would have pictured, deeper and hoarser. Blue would have predicted the hoarseness after all of the talking this monster had done today.

Blue honestly wasn’t sure who the monster behind him had been talking to, but he couldn’t judge. One of his best friends still hadn’t stopped talking. Ink would have been hoarse had he been a normal monster. He wasn’t.  It wasn’t that he was crazy. Ink was the kind of anomaly that rules had to be built around. So was the dark boned skeleton Blue recognized from a few years ago. Now if only Blue knew his n-

“What’s your name, anyway? I’m Sans, obviously, but most people call me Dust. Not my brother, though. He still calls me Sans,” Dust said with a grin, his mismatched eye lights shining bright. The concentric rings of red and purple were almost as fascinating as the fire.

“I’m Blue,” he said, startled, “Technically it’s Dr. Blue, but I don’t actually practice at the moment, so most people call me Blue. My brother calls me Sans, though, too.”

The wide smile that shone from Dust’s skull was dazzling. Blue’s eye lights widened as he took it in. Wow, Dust was cute. A blush spread across Blue’s maxilla, along with a hesitant smile. Maybe he could do something about that? Stretch wouldn’t be happy, but he already wasn’t happy about this little trip. What would be the harm in having a little fun?

“Well, Dr. Blue, I’d love to have you examine me sometime,” Dust said, waggling his brow bones.

Oh, that was flirting! Blue knew what to do with flirting. He batted his eyelids back at Dust and leaned in. “Oh, I’d be happy to. I’m sure you have some pieces of your anatomy that can fascinate me for hours. I might even have one or two suggestions that would make your life more… pleasurable! Mweh heh heh heh!”

=====

Ink overheard his friend laughing and grinned from ear to ear. “Yay, Blue! I’m glad he’s feeling good enough to laugh. He’s always so stuffy! That was one of the reasons we took this trip; to make Blue relax a bit! He-”

“Stars, do you ever shut up?” Error growled. He was securing the last string to the ground with some kind of spike. Ink didn’t know the names of any of this stuff, and he barely knew Error’s name. As far as he was aware he had never left the city before. Then again, his memory was absolutely horrible. Not as bad as Blue’s dad’s, but still objectively horrible. Good thing he wasn’t objective!

“Nope!” Ink said, popping the p. “I don’t like it when things are quiet at all! It’s super scary and makes me feel isolated and alone in a place where no one can rescue me. The same thing happens if I see too much of the color white! It’s kind of a trigger, so I fill up the silence with as much noise as I can and make lots of art! I’m constantly repainting the walls of my apartment, and I always have some music playing at home.”

Error was giving Ink the funniest look. It was almost… sympathetic? Curiosity sparked in Ink’s mind. Why would anyone relate to an experience like that? Ink was about to ask when Error spoke up. “That’s stupid. You’ve got actual friends, idiot. They’re not going to abandon you.”

Ink nodded. “I know that, but that’s not how triggers work. Triggers are totally illogical. They’re weird little psychological phenomena that we don’t fully understand. A trigger can be anything from the smell of lilacs, to the taste of chemo medicine, to the feeling of tulle between your toes, to the sight of a specific crack on the ceiling of your house, to-”

“The sound of door locks? Those ones with a full bar you lock into place with a key?” Error asked suddenly.

Ink took in the sight of him. Error looked haunted. Interesting. Ink’s curiosity made him a promise: he would find out everything about Error and his past that he could to satisfy his own curiosity. If he was going to do that, however, he needed to win Error’s trust.

“Yeah! That’s definitely something that could be a trigger,” Ink said, then he went on, “and it’s not like you’d have to know why it was a trigger, either. Sometimes we just have something that’s triggering to us without any explanation. Dream is that way about moles. The little furry animal, I mean. Totally sends him into a panic attack whenever they show up in a nature documentary we’re watching. Blue now likes to pre-screen any movies we’re going to see, just in case. Actually, he pre-screens them for a lot of things. Useless sex scenes, for one.”

Error snorted. Ink blinked at him, feeling an unfamiliar paint combination roll over him. He couldn’t have put a name to it, but there were bits of yellow, pink, and green in there. Yellow was happiness of all sorts, pink was affection or love, and green was the need for something. It could be the need for information, or food, or a plan, or… anything, really.

“Don’t,” Error snorted, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those sex purists who thinks you should only have sex after marriage. That’s so stupid.”

Ink laughed his own unique laugh that couldn’t decide between being a chuckle and a giggle. “No, I just think that those stupid sex scenes take away from the body of the story. Sometimes they’re good, but mostly they’re just put in for horny fans. They don’t even make any sense. People just don’t hop into bed with perfect strangers at the drop of the hat. At least, not any sane people. Not that sanity’s earned its good ratings, mind you.”

“Well that’s true,” Error agreed with distaste. “Sex shouldn’t be some kind of spectacle for anyone to see. I know I wouldn’t want anyone but my lover or lovers to see me like that. I might be the most handsome skeleton in existence, but that doesn’t mean I want to show myself off.”

It was Ink’s turn to snort. “You? Handsome? Your bones are black, Error. Don’t you know that the darker your bones are the less handsome of a skeleton you are?”

Error’s grin was absolutely crazy, and Ink couldn’t help but mirror it. It looked like so much fun! “That’s what they want you to think! After all, so many people are cursed with white bones. They had to come up with some way to boost everyone’s egos. Telling them that white bones are best is a good PR spin! I bet even you believe it about your own bones!”

Ink blinked at him, then slipped out of his overshirt and bared his bones. They were covered in patterns, almost random, that had more black to them than white. “It’s not like my bones are all white, though. I guess that means that, by your definition, I’m ugly, too! Oh well.”

Error’s larger eye light was now almost as wide as his socket. The other one, the grey one, had wandered off. Ink wondered if he could even see out of that eye or if he just had lazy eye. Either way it was disconcerting. “Well… you’re not that ugly. You’re less ugly than all those bleached-boned idiots in the movies. After all, you have some black on there. And the contrast looks… kind of nice, if a bit blurry. D’ya mind taking a step back?”

“Why?” Ink asked, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s none of your business why, chatterbox!” Error screeched, “Just do it!”

Ink sighed. He’d been doing so well with winning Error over, but nothing worth doing was worth doing too fast. He stepped back a few paces. “Alright, Error. Is this good?”

Error was too busy studying Ink’s patterns to answer. Ink studied his expression, committing it to memory. It was so… fascinating… the way he was staring at Ink. The play of light on the black bone of his skull was so enchanting, and the lines of his mouth were inviting in a way Ink couldn’t place. He longed to sketch it. Maybe later, after dinner, although the fire wouldn’t be  the ideal light source. Needs must, though!

=====

Killer grinned as everyone took up their positions around the fire. The small blue skeleton and Dust were already seated, flirting with each other like there was no tomorrow. The artist and Error were arguing, but it involved more words out of Error than Killer had heard the entire time he’d been working for them. Blood and Sugar were sitting as far apart as they could stand, cooking the food and shooting each other longing glances. Cross was sitting at attention next to Dream and shooting him the most adoring looks. Dream seemed just about as oblivious as Nightmare could be. He was staring into space, zoning out. That left Killer to work on Nightmare. Perfect.

“Hey, Boss~” Killer purred as he slid in next to Nightmare, taking one of his tentacles into his hands and slowly massaging it. It was tense as hell. It was pretty obvious who was causing their leader so much stress. His eye light was fixed on Dream like it had been nailed in place.

“Yes, Killer?” Nightmare said distractedly, his eye light not leaving Dream, “What is it?”

Killer brought the tentacle up to his teeth, kissing it. “The tension in your aura is palpable, Boss. You need to relax a bit. Let me lavish you with all the attention you so richly deserve.”

Nightmare turned to face him, his eyebrow raised and his one eye light showing Killer his amusement. “Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren’t you? What are you trying to do, impress me? You know you already do. Or are you trying to distract me from Cross’ misbehaviour? I can see him over there. He’s acting like a lovestruck teenager.”

So are you, Killer thought to himself, a lovestruck teenager that’s fallen in love with his biggest rival. Out loud he said, “If you want to say that about Cross you have to say that about all of them. Dust is flirting with that small blue one like it’s his favorite hobby, Blood and Sugar are doing their Romeo and Juliet act, and Error is arguing so much with that artist that I wouldn’t be surprised if his voice wasn’t hoarse tomorrow.”

“The small one is called Blue and the artist’s name is Ink,” Nightmare said absently.

Killer blinked at him, then smiled his most winning smile - the one he wore when he was trying not to get caught at something sketchy. “You know, it would probably be a good idea if we introduced everyone before matching people up for the night. Why don’t I get everyone’s attention and you can tell people who they’ll be sleeping with?”

Nightmare tore his eye light off of Dream just long enough to narrow it at Killer. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Fine, then. No knives, though. I know you like to show off, but please, save it for another time.”

Killer saluted with the half-ironic, half-serious form that drove Nightmare crazy. “Got it, Boss!”

Then he turned to the center of the fire everyone was gathered around, raised his hands to his mouth, and hollered, “Heylalo, skellies! Listen up, the boss has something to say!”

Eight heads turned to face him with expressions that varied from annoyance to curiosity to mildly dissociative. Killer frowned slightly. Blood he could understand, but why would Dream be dissociating? Had something happened to him since he and Nightmare parted ways? Or was it just the general absentmindedness of a normal monster? Killer vowed to find out.

Nightmare’s grunt interrupted his thoughts. Killer turned to face his handsome datemate and listened closely to the orders of the night. “Now that I have your attention, I’m going to introduce you all and tell you who you’ll be sleeping with. Remember that these arrangements might change as the trip goes on, so if you can’t handle sleeping with someone please let me know. Blood, Sugar,” He pointed to the two of them in turn, “you’ll be sleeping together in the red tent. Ink, Blue,” Again he pointed to each of them in turn, “You’ll be sleeping in the blue tent. Killer, Dream,” He signaled who each of them was, “you have the yellow tent. Error, Dust, please take the black tent,” He gestured at both of them. “Finally, Cross and myself will take the green tent. My name is Nightmare. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

The boss studied each face in turn, as did Killer. They would compare notes later.

Cross was blushing and averting his eyes from Nightmare’s face. He knew he was in trouble for today, but that didn’t stop him from looking forward to being punished. It never had before.

Blue was looking at Dust with longing and a flushed face. The expression was mutual. Interesting. Maybe they should be paired up in a tent tomorrow night. Dust could use a bit of a chance to unwind.

Ink had clearly lost interest in the conversation. He was looking around at the clearing with his hand twitching in the air. Long strokes, short curves, and forceful jabs would have painted a picture if Ink had only been holding a paintbrush. Killer would have bet any amount of money that he was already planning a drawing or two of their surroundings. Artists were like that.

Blood was eyeing the food with hunger, as usual. After what he had been through it was hardly a surprise. Sugar was beaming at his brother. Only his practiced eye told Killer that he was ready for their night’s more… intimate activities. Hopefully this time they wouldn’t get caught.

Dream was eyeing Killer with something like anxiety, except moreso. It almost looked like fear. It did look exactly like the expression Nightmare had turned on him the first time they’d been asked to share a tent. Huh.

Finally, there was Error. Error, as usual, was grumbling to himself. Killer knew exactly what he was upset about. He hated having to share a tent with anyone. He was always on edge, worried that they were going to bump into him in the night. He knew better by now, though, than to complain. Nightmare had no sympathy for his disgust at the touch of others anymore. No one had ever touched him at night. That wasn’t going to change.

Nightmare nodded when he was satisfied that no one was going to complain. “Good. Now, Blood, please serve out tonight’s food to everyone. It’s time to eat.”