#Bee things he's being subtle

[scremogirl]

✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Yandere! Nerd x Academic Rival! Reader

Mentions of depressive behavior/thoughts of suicide. AFAB! Reader: is called “Ms”.

Annoying.

A know-it-all smarty pants that was simultaneously the worst pain in your ass. Not that he meant to be of course; you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, some people are just naturally smart; but not him. Following you around like a lost puppy no matter where you went. He was toying with you on purpose and you knew it! You just couldn’t understand why he decided to make your life worse.

Now, the relationship you have is more one sided. You’d make subtle jabs and throw cheap shots his way but all he ever did was laugh it off. He never fought back. From what you’ve gathered, he just prefers to stare. And when I say stare I mean straight into your soul type stare. Every time he gets annoyed or is thinking really hard about something that’s what he does. Stares. It’s really creepy and unsettling, all the times you caught him or tried to, he would just look away blushing, trying his best to hide behind his shaggy hair. Eyes burn holes through the back of your head five out of the seven days of the week. However, even the two days you aren’t in school, the feeling of eyes on you never seems cease. You feel chills crawl up your spine and always look over your shoulder wherever you go only to find nobody there.

You’ve always strived to be the best. Your home life was like the equivalent of being tossed in solitary co finemente and being left to rot. It seemed as if your parents only cared about your academic life. Therefore, they were always super strict about your grades. You knew it came from a place deep within their hearts, they just wanted you to do good in life; but it still hurt. You wanted to make them proud. Wanted to feel loved by the people who were supposed to be closest to you. So you pushed yourself to limits nobody could ever reach. From winning spelling bees to holding the spot of Vice President on your school's student council team. Schools were already offering you all expense scholarships in freshman year!

You were an all rounder. One of the most involved students in your grade. You were in various sports and academic clubs, always helped in school fundraisers, and even have 500(+) SS hrs.

“ Apologies, Ms. (L/N), but there’s nothing we can do about this. You’ll have to get a tutor in order to pass,”

Technical engineering.

Your worst subject. You excelled in physics and math; some would say the best. You got the formulas down to a T and knew everything there was to know. It was more so the building aspect of things. There were just so many damn parts! Who even needs an electriconic digital caliper anyways?!

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), but that’s just the way things turned out. You need this credit to graduate, but you needn’t worry. Miylo is the best at this. He’s perfect for the job,”

Miylo Reneritzer. A 6 foot, dead eyed, pale skinned dork. He’s never stood out to you. He wasn’t popular or a scholar. He didn’t play sports and wasn’t in any clubs. He didn’t participate in the annual dances and didn’t attended school games. He was just there. A regular student with a knack for technicalogical architecture. You were in 11th grade at the time. You needed to get all your credits out the way so you didn’t have to worry about them senior year. Not that it was a problem for you seeing as all of them were already completed. Well… except this one. You’ve been putting off for so long. You had to face it sooner or later. Too soon for your liking.

You would meet with Miylo twice a week; you were place in the same tech class so the first meeting didn’t really count. He was a great teacher! A little quiet and very monotone, but very thourough none the less. By the end of junior year you ended up with a A-. You parents hammered you for not making it a plus but you’ve come to terms with it. He saved you. And you were grateful. You ended up losing contact the transitioning year and just never interacted again; almost completely forgetting about him.

He didn’t forget about you though. How could he?! You were the most beautiful girl in the entire school! Nobody could compare to you. What you didn’t know about him was he was s everely bullied and even contiplated ending everything. That was until you came along. Someone finally wanted to talk to him. Even if it was just for help getting a good grade. Taking to a pretty popular girl and getting money and an increases on his report card? Sign him up. That one day changed the entirety of his life, he owes his life to you.

All he remembers is being called down to the counselors office; parents ready waiting and giving him the most bone crushing hug. Everything seemed like a blur from then on. But what he can remember is how he got there in the first place.

“A friend of yours, (Y/n) (L/n) had some concerns about your health. She said she’s been paying attention to you for awhile and noticed your self destructive behaviors,” says the counselor.

What? Before he started tutoring you he thought you were a teachers pet and hog all the chances for others to answer questions but if saves him the embarrassment of public speaking he doesn’t mind. You’ve noticed him? In more than just at tutor-tutee way? Nobody ever notices him. Not even his own parents. It’s evident with the amount of shock on their faces and all their “why didn’t you tell me’s” and confessions of love. He’s mad at you at first. He spends at least 3mths in that looney bin because of you. He hated it at first. All the questions and discard for privacy. But… slowly he changes. He becomes healthy and happy again. His mind drifts back to you. The way you would answer questions when you noticed the teachers eyes land on him, the way you would always do the presenting part in group presentations, the way gum and smiley faced erasers would apprear on his desk on a particularly hard day. You cared. You did this for everyone you saw struggling. Not that he took that into account, in his mind, he was the only one. You thought he was special. And he wouldn’t let anyone take his spot in your heart.

When he got out, he decided he was a changed person. Senior year would be his redemption arc and you would finally be together. You already were in his mind; you were just to scared. He saw straight through your act. That’s why you would do all that stuff for him instead of just coming out and saying it. He needed to pull himself together and become a better person first. He wanted you to be proud of him. He wanted you to see him for all he’s worth. He joined all the clubs you were in and surpassed all expectations. He became popular, inserting himself into all your social circles and even became a student council member beside you. Or should I say infront of you? The President. And the validictorinan.

Ugh! Since when did he become so…so great!? You don’t have any clue where this change in him came from and you want him to go back to the way he was. You were the best! You didn’t work this hard for your parents approval for nothing. They would always compare you time him. Miylos the student council president they’d say. He would never get an A-, he would never miss a volleyball game because he was overwhelmed with school work, he would never feel how school was the only true escape from an emotionally disabled household. He would never understand. Oh, but he did.

He’s been in your house plenty of times to know what’s going on. Not that you’ve know of course. That explains all the missing panties. Hmm, maybe that explains where all of your pens have gone too. And your half eaten food, and the Polaroids you’ve take of yourself, and your rose to-… Regardless! You’ve had enough of this! You needed him to know just exactly how you felt. What other way than asking him to meet you under the tree on Fri before school ends?

“I already know,” Hm?

“Good. I couldn’t hold this in any longer. You do know just exactly what I feel,”

“Oh my love but I do,” ….my love? What is he taking about.

“What am I talking about? Oh sweetheart, don’t play coy with me. It’s okay; I’ve always know the real reason behind your aggression towards me. Your just shy is all. I just want to let you know that I love you too. More than you could ever know,” he steps forward and arms outstretched and expecting a hug. He push on his chest and stare up at him in confusion. Love him? You don’t love him, you despise him! He chuckles.

“Like I said, it’s okay to be open about how you feel. That’s why you brought me here isn’t it?” What! This wasn’t some sort of confession. Well…technically… but not one of love! He was here to understand how much you loathed him. He had to not like you either, that’s why he did everything you did right…Right!? He hated you. He had to!

“Hate you? (Y/n), I could never hate you. After all you saved me,” at this point you thiught he was joking with you. Furthering your suspicions of his true feelings. You tried marching pasted him only for him to grab you arm. You tried to shuck him off but his grip was strong. All those clubs really built up his physice. He wasn’t the same scrawny little geek you remembered. He was larger, seeming as if he grew a few more inches. He filled out his uniform more, and his eyes became brighter and more emotional. If your affliction for him didn’t exist you’d think he was cute. The only thing that seemed hadn’t changed about him was his unwavering love and loyalty to you. He huffs out an exasperated sign, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I get that your shy my love, but that’s there’s no need to be so rude. We’ll work on a more conventional way to express your emotions,”

“Do I have to spell it out for you! I don’t like you, you creep! You’ve been following me around every since the beginning of this year. You’ve taken everything from me. Clubs, student records, student president! Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get here! You act so laid back and relaxed about everything and it drives me nuts! I hate you!” You push past him again, angry tears forming from all the supressed emotional turmoil. He doesn’t grab you right away which makes you think he’s finally got the picture. Didn’t anyone ever tell you no to turn your back on the enemy? You’re suddenly grabbed and thrusted into the base of the tree. He tsks at your behavior before sighing again. Hands have now moved to your shoulders and apply slight pressure keeping you in place. If that didn’t do it, the way he's looking at you would’ve have; fierce and warning, and yet, filled with so much adoration.

“We need to fix this little attitude of yours, don’t we?” It’s rhetorical. You know that but you feel the urge to snap back at him. Before you could get a word out, you can her the distance ringing of the school bell signaling the end of the day. His phone rings on the last ring. He gives you a hard glare telepathically telling you not to move. He stands straighter and picks it up. With what you heard, the student council meeting is starting soon and the others are wondering where you two are. Saved by the bell. He sighs before grabbing his bag that he placed down as long as your hand before sighing.

“Unfortunately, we can’t continue this conversation my love. Lucky for us, it’s Friday. We’ll have the rest of the weekend to work it out of you,” he throws a coy smirk your way and grabs at his belt, readjusting it a bit. God, what will you do?

Hey loves! Hope you enjoyed. I’m thinking about making apart to of this. I wasn’t really confident in it and decided that I should give more explanation to Miylos behavior. This could just be his introduction and I’ll expand on it. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere! nerd x reader #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

[dxxdhood]

show off

pairing: dick grayson x gn!reader

summary: after dick tries his hardest to get your attention, you finally give it to him.

tags: smut (18+), sub!dick grayson, dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering (m receiving), oral (m receiving), light bondage, hair pulling, body worship

wc: 2.2k

a/n: hey! sorry for disappearing! i don't have an ao3-author-almost-dying-excuse but i hope this fic makes up for it!

What made Dick Grayson so hot was that he knew he was hot. He was always walking around with an annoying amount of confidence that he managed to pull off anyway. Blame it on him being the poster child for a Good Samaritan or his relentless integrity– the guy was impossible to hate no matter how big his head got.

Luckily, you’ve lucked out as his official, number one supporter. Ever since becoming partners, you’ve gotten to spend more little moments together, even when life would ordinarily tear you apart. And of course it’s great! Dick’s arms around you as you try to catch up on some reading in the morning, forehead kisses even as you’re running out the door late for work– everything’s been adorable. But lately, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. 

Dick’s been stressed out, you can tell it in the set of his shoulders even if he’s been trying to hide it. The thing was, you’ve been super busy lately. Work and personal stuff kept piling up, and although you’re ashamed of it, you’ve ended up prioritizing other things instead of your relationship.

You told Dick that you were swamped with work and – as usual – he was nothing but understanding. But if dating Dick has taught you anything, it’s that he believes that being understanding means completely ignoring all his own wants. It’s very endearing, but you also feel like a giant asshole, especially as things finally start clearing up and he still keeps his distance.

Or well, at least it seems like he’s trying to keep his distance. That doesn’t explain him showing off for you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing! It started off when you came back from work one night to Dick, on his day off from patrols, cooking you an entire candlelit dinner. He was wearing a black button up with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair was also loose, messy like he’d just been on a run. Oh, and he must not have shaved that morning, because he has the slightest amount of stubble– he was trying to kill you was what he was doing. 

Okay, he may have had plausible deniability during that night’s dinner, but that time you walked in on him working out was not subtle. As soon as you walked into the living room he switched to doing squats, the thin material of his gym shorts straining against his muscled thighs. After a couple seconds of you watching in awe, he had the nerve to turn around and smile at you all innocently, asking you how your day went. 

And then there was what happened yesterday. Once again you walk into your living room (clearly a trigger for these events) and you’re met with Dick on the couch, shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants as he snores softly. His head was leaning against his shoulder at an uncomfortable angle, so you grab a small pillow and maneuver it under his neck to stop him from getting sore. Even asleep, you feel how strong he is as your hands trace the outline of his neck and shoulder muscles. You can spot so many moles littering his arms and chest. It’s a shame they’re usually covered.

It’s not like Dick doesn’t usually lounge around the house shirtless, but wearing nothing – and you’re sure it’s really nothing – but gray sweatpants all stretched out on the couch? At this point he’s not asking for you to do something, he’s begging for it.

So, today you text him to “get ready for a surprise tonight!” while he’s out on patrol. He responds back something like “????😍🥳😘!!!!!” while you start getting ready. 

“Hey, I’m home!” he calls as he walks through your front door. “So what’s this big surprise I’ve been hearing about?”

“Welcome back,” you say, rushing from your bedroom to give him a kiss. He’s ready to break it off almost instantly, but you hold on for longer, placing your hands on his shoulders. Dick muffles a sound of surprise but he doesn’t pull away. After a second of not knowing what to do with his hands, he rests them around your waist and melts into the kiss.

You eventually pull back and Dick starts talking again, “Well, that was a nice surprise! Guess I’ll just–”

“Shut up!” You shout through a giggle. “Just wait a second, it’s in here.”

You grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom, which you’ve lit with scented candles. Also �� and this may have been going a little far – you bought roses to adorn your bedside table (and to sprinkle petals on your bed, of course). On top of the freshly washed sheets, through the dim lighting, Dick spots some suspiciously red rope. 

“Alright, I mean it this time, this is a nice surprise,” he says as he tries to fight against a smile. “But are you sure you’re okay to do this tonight? I don’t wanna worry you, and if you don’t have the time for–”

You grab both of his hands and pull him down so you’re both sitting on the side of the bed.

“Dick… It’s not my fault I’ve been busy lately, and I know that,” you take a deep breath. “But I’m so sorry I haven’t been spending enough time with you. I should’ve tried harder, you know, I should’ve done what you always do– find a way to pull through it.”

He raises one of his hands from where yours were covering his and is about to protest before you stop him, “Please don’t defend me, just let me say I’m an asshole for once.”

He exhales and relaxes back, placing his hands in yours again.

“So, let me make it up to you?” you ask, almost timidly in comparison to how solid the rest of your apology went.

As a response, Dick leans forward and hugs you so tight you think you may have crushed ribs (and you know Dick definitely has the strength to do it). 

“Of course I’m not going to say no to that,” he chuckles, breaking the hug so he can stand up and start uncoiling the rope.

“Hold on,” you say as you come up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head toward you, confusion clear on his face. “I was thinking that tonight I’d do the tying.”

And you’re infinitely grateful that Dick turned around, because now you can see his cute raised eyebrows and the sweet way he tries to look towards the floor. He lets out a small cough and politely hands you the rope.

“Sounds- sounds good.”

“Great!” you nestle a hand in his tousled hair and scratch at the back of his scalp. “Go take a shower, alright? When you’re back, I’ll be here and we’ll get started, okay?”

He nods, and you give a gentle tug of his hair, “Speak, baby.”

“Right, yeah! Good! It sounds really good,” He manages, walking to the bathroom quickly and wasting no time to get the shower started.

You giggle as you watch him exit. Dick was usually so suave and self-assured, it always threw you to see how nervous he got when he was under your thumb. 

Preparing the last few things you needed, you lay on the bed, resting your head on your bent arm to watch Dick as he steps out of the bathroom. He didn’t even bother bringing a towel out with him, and you can see the drops of water run down his chest and abs before reaching his cock. 

You give him less of a smirk and more of a fond smile as you walk up to him, reaching to cup the back of his neck and bring his face close to yours.

“Even now, when I already told you you’re going to get what you want, you’re still showing off for me.”

“What?” He shakes his head, eyes gleaming.

“Lay down for me, okay? You say, and even though he wants to hear you finish, he follows immediately.

Rope in hand, you crawl on the bed so you’re straddling him. The sight of him, all lean muscles and thick thighs, laid out for you makes your face heat up. You take a deep breath as you gesture for him to move his hands up, and you tie him to the headboard.

“You’ve been craving my attention so badly, haven’t you? Just wanted me to drop what I was doing and show you how much I love you?”

“What, no, I–”

You move your hands from his tied up wrists to grip his jaw so he faces you, “Don’t keep anything from me now. Just tell me the truth, I want to hear it.”

After fighting past a blush, Dick lets out a shuddering breath, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I– I wanted you to notice me.”

“How couldn’t I, baby?” You say as you move down his body, nipping at his neck and the strong muscles of his shoulders. “You always look so sexy, you always want me to look.”

You lick at one of his nipples and you can feel his body twitch.

“You know you’re so handsome, right? You’re so hot, sometimes I think about you at work and get so distracted I can’t get anything done.”

He lets out a sigh as you scratch your nails down his side, leaving lines of red before you grip at his raised biceps.

“You’re so kind, too,” You whisper before kissing him deeply, biting at his bottom lip. Your other hand leaves to get the lube and begins spreading some around his hole. Dick’s breathing grows more and more uneven, but you kiss along his jaw and let him relax before you slip your finger in.

He squirms a bit at first, and you run your other hand through his hair to comfort him as you prep him using your finger. 

“You’re always so good, even when you don’t have to be– even when you have no reason to be. You see someone hurt, alone, and you help them– like it’s the most obvious thing to do.” You add another finger and Dick bites his lip at the stretch, trying not to breathe too heavily.

He starts gasping at every little thrust, sweat glistening at his brow and you angle your hand to reach that spot every time. Dick lets out a long groan, dipping his head to his collarbone before you pull him back up to look you in the eyes..

“You’re incredible, Dick. Such a gorgeous person inside and out.”

“Babe!” he cries, hiding his face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, and you gently cup his face to coax him out of it.

“It’s true, sweetheart, and you don’t get to hear it enough. You’re so good, you’re my good boy.”

He moans at that, higher than usual and you add another finger while he’s distracted. His voice breaks in the middle of the sound, and you can feel his chest working double time to try and keep up with your thrusts.

“Shit– shit, holy shit!” He cries, and you card your hand through his hair one last time before you run it down the side of his neck and across his chest. You never stop your hand movements as you kiss down the column of his neck and his pecs, following each spot your hand touches with your mouth.

You lick down his abs and Dick whines, trying to hide his face again while also keeping one eye focused on you, not wanting to miss a second of what you’re doing to him. The hand tracing down his body reaches his hard cock, and you run a finger across the length of it, rubbing in the bead of precum.

You take a second to make sure you’re keeping your thrusts consistent with your fingers before you take his entire length in your mouth. Dick rocks his entire body back and forth, trying to stay calm for you, and you breathe through your nose for a moment, letting him rest on your tongue as you get ready to move.

You slide on his cock at the same time your fingers hit his prostate, trying your best to line up the two so his tip hits the back of your throat when your fingers thrust against him. Clearly, it’s working, because Dick moves constantly, blinking back tears or trying in vain to hold back sounds as you work him even quicker.

His breathing becomes labored, so you move a hand to work his cock as you slide up his body, kissing him and sliding your tongue in his mouth. As soon as he tastes himself on you, you can feel the vibrations of a moan. His cum coats your hand as you work him through his orgasm.

Once you break your mouth away from his, his voice comes out all airy, “Oh my God, Fuck! Where were you hiding all of that?”

“The mouth?” You choke out, talking about how you just sucked him off, “Or the… mouth?” You mean the dirty talk.

“The–” He shakes his head, having trouble with the motion while still being tied up. “Yeah!”

The two of you giggle as you untie him, and you both cuddle for a while before hopping in the bath. 

#smut #dc smut #gn reader #dom reader #sub character #dc #dc comics #gn!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson #dick grayson smut #nightwing #nightwing smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x gn!reader

[anthurak]

One of the more subtle details about Hazbin Hotel that I’m particularly interested to see is what the actual Power Dynamics between the various characters are going to look like.

Because with everything we’ve seen from Helluva Boss, I have a hunch that there has actually been a bit of misdirection going on in the promotional material. Specifically in how the Overlords like Valentino, Vox, Velvette and even Alastor are presented as these very powerful and dangerous threats to the Hotel and that Charlie and Vaggie are probably in way over their heads trying to deal with them.

Buuuttt… then we ALSO have everything that Vivzie has mentioned behind-the-scenes about the class and power rankings of Hell. Specifically, the fact that apparently only the most powerful of the Overlords like Valentino and Alastor can be considered simply on par with the Goetic Nobility like Stolas in terms of power. Or even more notably, the fact that Charlie herself is apparently just as, if not MORE powerful than the Kings of SIN.

And thanks to Helluva Boss, we have a pretty good idea just HOW POWERFUL the likes of Asmodeus, Bee-lzebub and Mammon are. Which in turn could very well be giving us a hint of just how powerful Charlie might be.

Basically, I have a hunch that both the audience AND the Sinners (even those close to Charlie like Angel Dust) are MASSIVELY underestimating just how POWERFUL the Princess of Hell REALLY is. Like how her normally upbeat, friendly, ‘Disney Princess’, ‘Just wants to help everyone’ demeanor belies the fact that she may very well be fully capable of obliterating the likes of Valentino, Vox or even Alastor with EASE if she really wanted to.

Imagine if this ends up being a big reveal at some point? Like we get these subtle hints in the early episodes that Charlie may be quite a bit more powerful than she’s really letting on, perhaps by giving us a glimpse at what her parents are capable of. Until at some point one of the Overlords just takes things a bit too far. Say, Valentino is getting ready to full-on destroy the hotel, or about to straight-up kill Angel Dust for good with one of those Blessed Weapons we know are floating around?

Only for Charlie to just straight up DELETE Val with a metaphorical snap of her fingers.

And before I go into the broader narrative implications of all this, it’s also worth mentioning that this deliberate underestimation could apply to Vaggie as well. Because if Vaggie really is a former Exorcist, ie; a Fallen Angel like a lot of people are theorizing, this would likely mean that she’s fully capable of permanently killing Sinners, even the Overlords, if she really wanted to. Meaning that while Vaggie might not be as powerful as Charlie, she is no less DEADLY.

(As an aside, regarding the ‘mechanics’ of what could make Charlie so dangerous to sinners beyond simply raw power: We know that Sinners can only permanently die to Angelic Weapons. In other words, the ‘Holy’ power of the Angels and Heaven destroys them for good. And remember who Charlie’s father is? Not just an angel, but one of the most powerful angels to ever exist.)

What I find so interesting about all this is that it could completely upend a lot of the character and power dynamics we might be expecting. For example, totally recontextualizing Alastor’s motivations in supporting Charlie and her Hotel; as powerful as he might be, he’s still far beneath Charlie.

As well as introduce what could be Charlie’s real personal conflict and arc for the show. Because Charlie still wants to HELP the sinners of Hell, and almost certainly doesn’t want to be or act like some all-powerful being lording over subjects they consider fall beneath them. Even though she could.

And of course, being an ultimate overlord is very likely what Lucifer will be ENCOURAGING Charlie to be. Which in turn feeds nicely into Charlie’s conflict with her father.

Finally, let’s consider Charlie’s motivation, paired with what she could become: She wants everyone to be happy and safe and generally the best, and she has the absolute POWER to IMPOSE her idea of ‘happiness’ and ‘goodness’ on others if she really wanted to.

Now is it just me, or does that sound a LOT like what we saw of HEAVEN in Helluva Boss?

What if Hazbin Hotel ultimately presents Heaven, the Angels and possibly God him/her/themself as the TRUE antagonist of the show, AND a full-on villainous counterpart to Charlie?

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #charlie morningstar #hazbin vaggie #hazbin alastor #hazbin valentino #hazbin vox #hazbin overlords #lucifer morningstar #helluva asmodeus #helluva beelzebub #helluva mammon #hazbin hotel theory #charlie is probably WAY more powerful than people give her credit for #charlie has MASSIVE 'cinnamon roll who could totally murder you' energy #i think anyone who seriously expects alastor to hold any kind of real power over charlie is probably going to be in for a BIG surprise

[nohoperadio]

That cool bee book I was talking about a while ago mostly refrains from philosophical digressions (which I think is a strength, I appreciated how the author had total confidence that just clearly presenting the facts about his subject would be enough to make a fascinating book without the need for any "...and here's why that should blow your mind" editorializing, and he's totally right), but there was one towards the end I've found myself thinking about a lot, which is: he wants people to stop using "self-consciousness" (i.e. the concept exemplified by the mirror test but used implicitly or explicitly in tons of other contexts) as a criterion for which animals can be considered sentient/morally relevant/having significant inner lives/however you want to describe it. Not, as you might expect, because he thinks it's an unreasonably high bar to meet, but because it's such a low bar that it produces no distinctions: he argues that basically any animal with any kind of developed central nervous system has to have some kind of self-consciousness almost by definition.

The example I remember best is: imagine you can see an object in your visual field getting closer to you. No matter the specifics, it's obviously always going to make a huge difference to how you evaluate this situation whether the cause of the object getting closer is a] the object is moving towards you, or b] you are moving towards the object. If a, then something might be pursuing you or falling on you or a thousand other things that are just not even worth considering in the case of b. But visually the two cases are indistinguishable; if you're going to be able to track the difference, your brain has to be putting at least some work into keeping tabs on what your own intentions are and what choices you're making as you move through the world, predicting the expected consequences of those choices, and maintaining a fairly tidy mental separation between stuff in the world that you're making happen and stuff in the world that's just happening of its own volition. Otherwise, every time you walk towards a rock you'll freak out and think the rock is rolling into you, or vice versa.

And it's not hard to see how this applies to your entire sensory world right, it applies to sounds and tactile sensations and even feelings internal to your body to some extent, if you're going to both perceive the world and take actions in the world then it's mandatory to mentally separate yourself and the world before that's going to yield even an ounce of helpful information, you just can't function successfully on the most basic level if you're processing stuff that you're doing on the same level as stuff that's happening, if you're in that state then you simply don't have a usable model of the world at all, you just have chaos.

So you can very easily eliminate a certain seductive narrative about the evolution of consciousness, which starts with very primitive animals who are mentally processing nothing but basic sensory inputs, then as you rise up the chain more complex animals are forming concepts of objects and building up a more nuanced understanding of the world, until finally you approach humans and the mind becomes so subtle and sophisticated that it gains access to this special advanced meta-level of thought where it can even understand itself! No, the self is precisely the one idea that has to be in place from the very beginning, before any of it has even the most rudimentary practical value. Self-consciousness isn't the pinnacle of the mind's evolution, it's one of the lowest, most basic foundations that everything else builds off of.

I think this is really cool stuff! I don't know enough about the relevant academic philosophy of mind debates to say how far all this does or doesn't speak to that, maybe someone will tell me the "self-consciousness" concept being attacked here is a strawman somehow, I don't know. But it's definitely impacted the way I (just a dumb guy who likes creatures) think about our small small cousins and what their lives might be like and I think it's super interesting. If you think it's interesting too then maybe you wanna buy The Mind of a Bee by Lars Chittka and read it. It's mostly not about this stuff, as I say it's light on philosophy and heavy on bee-life immersion, but if you actually read this whole post then you're probably in the market for that I feel like.

#creatures: they've got a lot going on #I think we'd better just let them get on with it #nohopereadio #uninteresting

[forever-rogue]

OMG TASM INSPO OKAY OKAY!

I saw this prompt a while ago that said: one small kiss before fully devouring the other person and I thought it would be perfect for pining idiots Peter and r. Maybe they dare them to kiss at a party or they get tipsy enough to be very affectionate which leads to the kiss. But then one of them is like shit I ruined our friendship and ghosts the other until they talk and get back together and kiss again 🥰

AN | If there is one thing I love it’s blind fools in love! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 4.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was so pretty like this.

Wild, unruly hair, plush lips, pink cheeks and eyes like rich honey. 

“What’re you lookin’ at, huh?” he reached over and brushed a lock of your behind your ear, so close that you could smell the sweet alcohol that lingered on his lips. Your heart skipped a few beats at the tender touch; it was nothing new but every one of his touches felt like the first time. He rested his palm against your cheek as you swallowed the lump in your throat, “you’re being weird.”

“Nuh uh,” you narrowed your eyes at him but your weak attempt at being serious did nothing for him. Instead he laughed, a sugary sweet sound you wanted to bottle up and keep as yours and yours only forever, “you’re being weird, Pete.”

“Whatever you say,” his long, lithe fingers ghosted along your jaw before he retracted his touch. You missed the warmth of his skin on yours almost immediately, “I think you’re drunk.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and finished the last bit of the hard cider in your bottle. You were so far from drunk, having nursed the same bottle over the last hour and a half just as he had with his beer. Neither of you were even tipsy, just enough to feel a slight buzz in your bones, let alone drunk, “‘m not. Just tired of you.”

“That’s a lie,” he whispered as you nodded meekly. You could never lie to him, or even fool him in the slightest. He’d been your best friend for almost a decade; he knew you better than anyone ever had.

“It’s a lie,” you confirmed, shifting your gaze away from him. You looked around the room, trying to focus on literally anyone else at the party. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to capture your attention - at least not as much as Peter Parker did. You could feel his gaze trained on you, and part of you was worried for a moment that he was almost able to hear every single thought you had running through your mind. You turned back and immediately felt your warm up, “Pete?”

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, voice so soft that your ears were playing tricks on you. When you saw the quiet and determined expression on his face you could tell that you had actually heard what you thought you’d heard.

“What?” you’d leaned in closer, inadvertently, but found yourself inches away from the pretty boy. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a very Peter-esque smile - that your smile. You wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe in your heart forever. You huffed when he just stared at you like you were magic, “Peter. What did you say?”

“C’mon Bee,” you could hear the subtle groan in his voice, “you heard me. I want to kiss you.”

“Why?” your brows knitted together in confusion; you were so ridiculously cute especially with the way your nose scrunched, “me? Pete, you’re just drunk.”

“Yeah you,” an incredulous huff escaped his lips. How? How did you not know that he was in love with you? Especially since he’d fallen for you days into your friendship so many years ago, “I like you, you know. And I’m not drunk. Not in the slightest.”

“Of course you do,” he was drunk. He had to be despite his insistence that he wasn’t. Right? You swallowed thickly, “you’re my best friend.”

“No, you don’t…” he put a hand on your neck, his thumb brushing along the soft skin under your ear, “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Okay,” your voice was so small it was basically a squeak, but it was enough to set him at ease to actually do what he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Peter closed the small gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours - softly at first, questioning and learning. When you didn’t panic or pull away. He deepened the kiss, earning a small moan from you. That sound made electricity shoot throughout his entire body; he wanted more, he wanted it all. All your sounds just for him. 

Before you let it get too far, you pulled back, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and taking his hand away. Peter stopped immediately and looked at your in surprise and… hurt? on his face. You held up your hands, both of them shaking, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you searched for the right words.

“Bee?”

“I-I can’t do this,” you scooted your chair back and stood up, shaking your head, “this was a mistake. I’m sorry, Peter. I gotta go.”

You grabbed your bag and started to push your way through the throng of crowds to leave. Peter had jumped up to his feet and attempted to follow you, “wait - Bee!”

But you didn’t wait. By the time he got to the door, you were already long gone. He sighed heavily, banging his head against the wall as he tried to figure out what he did wrong. But, he figured, he’d give you space tonight and then check on you tomorrow. Surely this was all just…a misunderstanding. 

Surely you felt the same things he did. He’d been wishing for nothing else for so long.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter’s hopes that he would be able to talk to you and get to the bottom of what was going on were quickly dashed the next. 

He didn’t hear a peep from you - but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. He texted and called and even showed up at your apartment to no avail. In reality you’d received and read every text, sent every call to voicemail, and ignored his knocking. You just couldn’t face Peter, not today…make not ever. 

You were still trying to put all the pieces of what had happened together. He’d told you that he liked you and that he wanted to kiss you. 

And then he did exactly that. 

But it didn’t make sense. Peter Parker was your best friend, and best friends definitely didn’t kiss like that. He said he wasn’t drunk but there couldn't be any other reason, right? Why else would he suddenly want to kiss you? Part of you was afraid that you’d taken advantage of Peter to get what you wanted. Of course you wanted to kiss him; you’d been in love with him for years. Instead of risking anything, you’d kept yourself thoroughly in the best friend zone. You’d rather pine for him and suppress those feelings and keep him in your life, than potentially risk losing him completely. 

Life without Peter Park wasn’t anything you wanted to experience. 

And in a few moments of inhibition, you might have ruined everything after all. You couldn’t face him ever again. The thought of that alone was enough to make you want to curl up and cry. 

You were being dramatic…you knew you were. You needed something - someone - logical to keep you from spiraling. Grabbing your phone, you quickly found her contact and called her, pacing around as you waited for her to answer.

“MJ,” you let out a sigh of relief when she picked up after a few rings, “I did something bad. Can you come over?”

You heard her sweet laugh on the other side, “of course. I’ll be there in twenty? Shall I bring a bottle of wine?”

“Yes please,” you rubbed at your forehead, “two bottles if you have it.”

“On my way!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Little did you know, MJ was already way ahead of you. She was already well aware of what had happened; Peter had called her, close to tears, about an hour beforehand. He was quick to spill his guts out to her, trying to make sense of everything…and definitely panicking that he’d never see you again.

MJ, meanwhile, was terribly amused at the panic both of you were displaying. She was well aware that the two of you were in love with each other, even if you the two of you weren’t aware. To be fair…everyone was aware but the two of you. It was so obvious to anyone that spent even a moment around you that you were in love. Somehow that just didn’t get through to you - not yet but Mary Jane Watson was determined to finally get you both to realization and clarity. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hi honey,” MJ let herself into your apartment with the key you’d given her long ago. You raised your hand and gave her a small wave from where you were curled up on the couch, buried under a heap of blankets. She set the bottles of wine down on the coffee table before raising an eyebrow at you, “and just what do we call this?”

“It’s calling wallowing,” you huffed, sitting up and looking at her with an upset expression on your face, “I fucked up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she insisted softly before going into the kitchen and grabbing a couple of wine glasses and a bottle opener. You made room for her on the couch, and sat down next to you, carefully opening a bottle and pouring a couple of glasses. You picked yours up and clinked it against hers, “cheers. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Peter,” you took a huge drink before allowing yourself to look at the giant grin on MJ’s face, “it’s Peter.”

“And…what about Peter?” she was prying, gently doing so, but curious to know. If there was someone that knew Peter almost as well as you it was her. She’d dated him for a few years in high school after all, “what did he do? And/or what did you do?”

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly just as you’d learned in yoga class. You pinched the bridge of your nose before setting your glass down and angling your body closer to her, “hekissedme.”

“Pardon?” oh, she’d heard you loud and clear and you both knew it.

“Peter kissed me,” you said more slowly, letting the words wash over you as the memories of last night popped, “and I…kissed him back.”

MJ was practically giddy with excitement, barely holding back her smile. She was definitely the president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer of the ‘you and Peter fanclub.’ She took another sip of her drink before setting the glass down and reached for one of your hands, “and what’s the problem with that? The two of you are clearly in love! It’s about time one of you made a move!”

“What?” you tilted your head to the side and looked at her in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Oh my god,” she threw her head back with a loud groan, “how are you so smart and dumb at the same time?!”

“MJ-”

“I know how you feel about Peter,” you’d confessed your love and adoration for your best friend many times - tipsy, drunk, and sober. And it wasn’t like either of you did anything to hide it. You huffed and looked at her like a lost little puppy, “and I know how he feels about you. I’m not sure what the problem is…”

“Peter doesn’t….he was drunk.”

“Peter doesn’t get drunk,” she raised her eyebrows in a sort of tell me I’m wrong expression, “but what exactly led to him finally making a move?”

“We were at that party at Beth’s and we were just hanging out and talking. I’d had a few drinks and he did too,” ugh. The way he’d looked at you was like something else, “and later on he told me he wanted to kiss me. I asked him why and he just sort of…made it seem like it was obvious. I asked if he was drunk but he said no and I don’t…fuck, I don’t know.”

“It is obvious, all things aside,” she waved her hand, “but if he says he wasn’t drunk, what’s wrong? Was it bad?”

“No. No,” it was anything but bad. In fact, you were ready to admit that it was easily the best kiss of your life. That made you both nervous and excited, “it was good.”

“But you didn’t want it?”

“I did, I do,” you drained the rest of your glass before pulling your legs up and hugging your knees to your chest, “I liked it and I want to do it again. You know I do. It’s just…what if he thinks its a mistake? What if he hated it and it’s ruined everything. I don’t want to lose him, MJ. He’s too important to me.”

“Honey,” she mirrored your position and her face turned serious, “I mean in the most loving way possible, but you are so incredibly obtuse. Peter is in love with you. You’re in love with Peter. What else could you possibly need to know?”

“I know I love him,” you agreed, “so much. But how can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s told me!” she threw up her hands as your eyes widened in surprise. She put her hands on yours and gave you a little shake, “he’s told me that he’s in love with you. More than once. I’ve just been…the two of you are so damn stupid. You’re so clearly in love with each other but neither of you can just admit and move forward. You’re not going to lose Peter, I swear on that. But sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and move forward. Otherwise nothing is ever to change.”

“MJ-”

“It’s not even that big of a leap,” she whispered gently, “it’s Peter. He’s always going to be there to catch you.”

You swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears stinging at the back of your eyes, “I’m scared, MJ.”

“I know,” she gently brushed her knuckles against your cheek, “and it’s okay to be scared. But this is a sure thing. But, for now, let’s have some more wine and watch a bad movie and order pizza?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed sniffling slightly, “thanks MJ.”

You hoped she was right. You hoped that this leap of faith would be worth it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As it turned, your great leap of faith…was a little delayed. As in one thing led to another and your nerves and anxiety got the better of you and you hadn't seen or talked to Peter in two weeks.

It was the longest you'd gone in the decade you'd known him without talking or seeing each other. It sucked. You knew Peter was a huge part of your life but you hadn't realized just how much…until he was gone. 

And it was definitely your own fault. Peter kept trying and trying to get through to you. That part warmed your heart and made things worse at the same time. You almost wished he could let it go but you knew that wasn't his style at all. His persistence and big heart were some of the many things you loved about him. You were going to talk to him at some point…you just needed to work up the courage. Soon hopefully. Soon.

Soon, as it turned out, came on a chilly fall day as you saw at your favorite cafe. You were halfheartedly sipping on a coffee as you worked on your laptop. You had hoped that getting out of the house and the office to work in a different space, one you normally loved, would help to cheer you up but it didn’t work. Not that you had anyone to blame but yourself. 

With an unwittingly heavy sigh, you looked up and stared out the window, watching the rain drizzle down. The city was beautiful this time of year; only this time it didn’t feel as lovely. 

What you didn’t expect, however, was to find Peter Parker stopping mid-walk and looking straight back at you. A tentative little smiled up the corners of his mouth as held up his hand in a small wave; a white flag gesture. You let out a nervous huff of laughter before smiling back at him and holding up your hand in response. 

He stood there for a moment before mouthing something at you, motioning with his to see if you’d come out. This time you didn’t hesitate as you shoved your laptop into your bag and almost ran outside to meet him. You didn’t know where you stood with Peter, but even just seeing him already made your heart feel so much better. 

“Hi,” he sounded almost nervous as you stopped in front of him, neither of you caring that you were getting wet. 

“Hi,” you whispered back, unsure of what to say or do. But this time you couldn’t run away or hide; you had to face up to what was going on, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” he took your bag from you and hooked it over his shoulder, starting to walk in the direction of his apartment. You fell into step with him, neither of you saying anything, but walking close enough so that the backs of your hands continued to gently brush against each other. The tension hanging in the air between the two of you was palpable but you were afraid to say anything to break the silence. 

Peter didn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings as he continued to open the doors for you. By the time you were inside the apartment, he closed the door and leaned against, watching you closely. You stood there nervously, trying to think of what to say, all the while hoping that Peter would say something instead. 

The two of you looked at each other in silence for what seemed like a small eternity. The next thing you knew, Peter came over to you and took your face gently in his hands, warm doe eyes searching yours. You offered him the tiniest of nods before he leaned in and kissed you. This time, instead of over thinking anything, you allowed yourself to live in the moment. At first Peter was afraid that you didn’t want this and he’d somehow read the signs wrong, but then he felt you loop your arms around his waist and kiss him back. 

And it felt like pure magic. It was everything you could have ever dreamed of and then some more. Kissing Peter felt so…right. Judging by the way he refused to pull away from you until you were both breathless, you were sure that he felt the same. He pressed his forehead against yours and let a small, wistful sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, unable to get your emotions in check from what had just happened. The only thing you knew was that you loved Peter; that was all that mattered, “Pete.”

“Don’t apologize,” he traced his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, causing goosebumps to explode all over your skin, “just talk to me please.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to look into his eyes. There was no malice in them, only…well, you weren’t absolutely sure what it was, but it was…something. There was a hopeful expression on his eyes as you nervously played with your hands. 

“Pete,” he loved the way you said his name; it always made him weak in the knees, “when you kissed me last time, were you drunk? Tipsy? Anything?”

He made a small sound, but shook his head, giving you the answer that you had already known was true, “no.”

“Why did…want to kiss me?” you were adorably; adorably blind. Peter looked at you softly, tilting his head to the side as he tutted. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked as you bit your lip. He moved towards his bedroom and motioned for you to follow him. When he stepped inside, he went to his dresser and dug around for a few moments before pulling out a big cardboard box. You watched with rapt attention as he took off the lid and poured the contents out on the bed. It was a large pile of photo strips, receipts, notes, and other silly little trinkets, “I have kept every silly note, every set of photobooth pictures, every receipt from anything important or special that we’ve done in the last decade.”

“Oh,” your eyes started to sting with tears as you looked at everything. You reached for a strip of photos - the first ones you’d taken together - and looked them over. It was the two of you, about nine years younger, making silly poses. Except in the last photo; you were making a silly face but Peter wasn’t. He was looking right at you with that same expression he’d always had just for you. Just for you. You looked at him and found him watching you intently, his cheeks tinged with a pretty shade of pink. It was like everything suddenly clicked in your mind, “oh. Peter…”

“It’s been a long time Bee,” his voice was so soft and low, “all this time, I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

“You never…” you sifted through the other photos and gathered them all up, looking through them. Fuck, you were an idiot. Every single time there was that look, “you never said anything.”

“No,” he admitted, “I was sure you’d get there eventually, and I’d always be here.”

“But at the party,” you felt even more stupid now; he had basically when telling the same thing then but you just didn’t want to believe that it could be true, “you said something.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re so beautiful,” he watched the smile on your face grow as you looked at some of the silly post-it notes the two of you had exchanged when you still worked at the same lab, “I never can. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Wait,” you sat at the edge of the bed, clutching one of the notes tightly in your hand, “can you just…spell it out for me? I-I don’t know if my brain is working properly right now.”

“Bee,” he crouched down in front of you, large hands settling on your thighs, “I love you. Not just as a best friend, but as everything. I want everything, but only if it’s with you.”

You put one of your hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he turned your hand over and traced a finger along the heart and life lines on your palm, “I’m in love with you.”

“Peter.”

“I was wondering when you were going to catch up,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to your palm, “MJ’s been trying to get me to tell you for a long time.”

“This whole time?” he nodded as you looked at him with a most ardent and loving expression, “when did you know?”

“It was at that first fair we went that summer after we met,” you remembered that day so clearly. From the sounds and the smells to what the two of you were wearing, to all the whispered conversations and longing looks, “you were wearing that pretty sundress - the yellow one with the little daisies on it - and I almost lost it. I think I knew that night. I really wanted to kiss you then.”

“I wanted you to kiss me then too,” you admitted sheepishly, feeling your entire face warm up, “it was that New Years Eve for me. You took me ice skating and I really wanted to hold your hand so I pretended to be super bad at skating. When it was midnight and kissed my cheek, I knew it was always going to be you for me.”

“I knew you were faking,” he laughed softly, eyes sparkling with happiness, “but I really liked holding your hand and didn’t want to let go. I’ve taken every and any excuse over the years to hold your hand or touch you.”

“I’m…I’m scared, Peter,” you couldn’t imagine a life without him. He was the biggest part of your heart, “what if something happens and we can’t be friends anymore? I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

“I promise you that you are never going to lose me,” you hoped it was true; you desperately wanted it to be true, “not as Spider-Man and not as plain old Peter. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Pinky promise?” you held up your other hand and extended your pinky towards his. He hooked his finger around yours without hesitation.

“Pinky promise,” he repeated, “and you know the pink promise is law. No one can break them. It’s for life.”

“What if you start to hate me?” that would be your worst fear, “if we start dating or something.”

“I hate to break it to you, honey,” he plopped onto the floor and gently pulled and maneuvered you into his lap. Yeah…that might have become your new favorite spot, “we’ve basically already been dating. It’s really not going to change much. Just some…added benefits.”

And at that, you relaxed, allowing yourself to melt into his body, laughing softly as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, “I guess you’re right. But, Pete-”

“I’m sure,” he put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “I always have been sure. It’s always going to be you.”

“Me too,” you took advantage of the moment and leaned up to steal a quick kiss from him, “I am sorry though, for ignoring you for the past couple of weeks. I was scared and then I didn’t know how to approach you after that.”

“I knew you were doing okay…ish,” he immediately knew what he was going to say next, “MJ kept me updated.”

“She’s going to kill me,” you sighed, “she’s been so mad at me for how I’ve been acting - not that I blame her. She told me to tell you how I felt. She told me it was just a small leap of faith.”

“I’m right here to catch you,” of course he was. He had been since the day he’d met you, “how do you feel, Bee? Tell me.”

“I’m in love with you, Peter Parker,” the smile on his face was beaming. It was enough to warm your heart a million times over, “I want you.”

“You have me.”

“I know,” you took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. You’d held hands before but it felt so different this time around, “you have me too, you know.”

“I know,” he mirrored the actions with your other hands, “I’ve always known.”

“Hmm,” you closed your eyes and hummed in content, “will you kiss me again?”

“Gladly, Bee,” he brushed his nose against yours, “always.”

MJ was going to flip when she heard the news.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #tasm!peter #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield

[ruggiethethuggie]

POST GAME || Ruggie Bucchi

wc: 1009 tags: ruggie bucchi, fem!reader only because reader is referenced as a “girl” in a boys locker room, established relationship because i said so, ruggie post game after a win, rugbert is cheeky as always, he also likes kpop because why not, slightly suggestive, never proofread- we type and upload

a/n: i sat for an hour in an unstable mental state after seeing this ruggie bucchi card. yana put her whole ass into this card. me thinks yana has a secret favorite, i mean have you seen ruggie's ssr cards ??? bangers

You tapped your phone screen once more, checking the time. It had been at least 20 minutes since the spelldrive match had ended and the NRC team had gone back to their locker room. You were trying to be patient, but it was killing you how long your boyfriend was taking. One after one, the team started to leave, but there was no sign of your biscuit brown, tousled-haired beau. You checked your phone one last time before you huffed and pushed past the entrance doors. You made your way past the short hallway of lockers into the open space where only a few team members remained, gathering their gear and belongings. Ruggie sat on the bench in the middle of the room.

He had already taken off his black athletic shirt and was in the process of taking off his cleats. He had music playing from his phone, feeling the rhythm and quietly singing to himself as he unstrapped his knee braces and put them in his bag. You stood there in front of him, hearing the sounds of the other lockers closing and the not so subtle whispers about a girl being in the boys’ locker room as the last of the team left for the night. You rested your hands on your hips and put on your best pouting face for him to see when he finally acknowledged you standing there. You watched as he continued to take his time removing each of his things and tucking them away in his bag. He softly changed his gaze to look at you, raised one eyebrow and grinned as he sang to you. “Baby, you a gangster, got my hands tied. Fallin’ for you deeper girl, I can’t lie. So sweet, like honey, honey.~ ” 

“Ruggie, come on. It’s getting late and I want to go back to the dorms. It’s already cold and I’m tired,” you whined, grabbing his hand and tugging on it. “Honey, Honey, Honey, workin’ for you like a bee. Buzzin’ for you baby, baby. Tell me what you need. What you need, ha, you can say please,” he continued to serenade you with a look that on normal occasions would have you melting, but not at this moment. You dropped his hand harshly and lightly pinched one of his ears. “Hey, hey, those are sensitive,” he groaned before chuckling to himself and pulling out his normal everyday clothes from his bag. “And you’re tired? I forgot you just played in the match, my bad, chief.” He grabbed your hand back and pulled you onto his lap.

“Stop, you’re all sweaty and gross!” you exclaimed, clambering to get out of his grip. Your need to get away only made him pull you closer into his embrace. “But, I thought you liked this,” he snickered as he nuzzled his sweat soaked forehead on your shoulder. His eyes were beaming as he looked up at you, his fangs peaking through his mischievous grin. It was a hard sight to be upset at, and he knew that all too well. He knew you all too well. “Ruggie,” you whined again. “Say please, or we stay here all night,” he teased. “Please, Ruggie, hurry up,” you replied, your voice monotonous. His ears drooped a bit as he looked at you. “That doesn’t sound very sincere.”

“What? You want me to get on the floor and beg?” His ears perked up at your suggestion, which was supposed to be more of a rhetorical question. “Ruggie, I’m not getting on the floor and begging you to get undressed so we can go home.” You watched as his eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips and then back to your eyes. “You don’t want me undressed? I’m hurt. What do I do all this working out for then? For the boys?” he asked playfully. You lightly pushed him back and rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re still partially in your uniform and have to change. Don’t you think we should go home and rest? You guys just won another placement match, so you’ll want to be ready for the semifinals.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can go soon.” He moved you off his lap and onto the bench before standing up. He grabbed the hand towel that had been on the opposite side of him and used it to dry off the droplets of sweat on his face, neck, and chest before tossing it back on the bench. The locker room didn’t have much going on visually besides the random “team spirit” and “sportsmanship” posters hanging up on the walls behind a row of lockers. Ruggie was much more aesthetically pleasing to look at than them. You watched observantly as he searched his shirt for the tag so he put it on right, his forearm flexing every time his grip changed on the fabric. He pulled the shirt over his head, making sure to let his ears through first so they didn’t get tugged on.

He noticed you looking at his arms as he pulled his shirt down and straightened it out. “Don’t ogle me, weirdo.” He stood in front of you and leaned down to meet your eye level and placed one hand on either side of you. “Y’know, we did just win, and we don’t have to leave the locker rooms just yet.” Again, his fangy grin had you enamored as you felt your blood rushing to your face. You took the damp towel he had used previously and shoved it in his face between you both. “I wanna go home, Ruggie, please, you’re the one being a weirdo,” you teased playfully. “Yeah, okay, I’ll remember that. See if I share any of my snacks with you then,” he sighed as he ruffled his hair.

“Snacks?” you said intrigued. He bit his lip and shrugged as he grabbed his pants and walked off to the bathroom. “Ruggie, wait- are the snacks here??” you shouted to him. He just snickered as he closed the door without saying anything more.

© Orange Divider | banner by me | please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts.

#~.writing #~.twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi imagines #ruggie imagines #Ruggie x fem!reader #ruggie twst #ruggie bucchi twst #ruggie twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk------

-and let's go to sleep.

p8 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Excuse me, feelings coming through. They just got lost.

Cuddles were a new thing for Y/N and Lando. But, unlike talking, they were really good at it.

After the race and their little moments in the driver's room, the pair parted ways, Lando went off to debrief with her team and Y/N excused herself from her meeting. She went of get a short walk to clear her head out.

Later, at an hour when it was almost ungodly to text someone, Lando asked her if she wanted to come over. Saying that he would like to spend a moment with her. This was the first time they'd spend some time together at his place and not at hers, albeit it was mostly rooms at the same hotels. After their last conversation, all the previous rules seemed to go out of the window. Unmarked territory. Civil communication. Who would have thought. She really tried not to be excited by that text. But her own tired mind was having a hard time following that order. Should she bring some things for her to stay over? Or was she suppose to go and get a coffee to battle her own tiredness in order to stay awake for him? Was it sex that he was after? Or something else. She craved his touch, but in a different way than usual. It was the soft caressing of his hands, subtle touches on the face and a light kiss on the forehad that she was after. It was a dangerous game. Seeing him so vulnerable opened door to strange feelings she buried down whenever she thought of him. At least until that evening.

It was hard for him to identify why he texted her. The last thing on him mind right now was sex or anything like that. He longed for the feeling he had when they hugged. Lando was a touchy person, words did not do the same for him as they would for most. Confusing, big and easy to get wrong. What the hell, he thought as he sent the text. Nothing bad could come out of it. There was a tingling in his fingertips he hadn't felt for months. And a strange level of excitement when he saw her text, asking for his hotel room.

This time, it was her standing in front the door, she would usually stay on the other side, waiting. This time, she had the power to knock only once she felt fit. She could not contain the little smile creeping onto her. It felt like shuffling the cards, playing a different game than usually.

He opened nearly immediately after she knocked, letting her in quickly in order to avoid any unnecessary witnesses. The room was dimly lit by a lamp on a nightstand and the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat hit her immediately. She was attracted by it like bees would be by a marmelade. He quickly kicked his shoes behind the door and as if he out of nowhere realized that she was coming, put few things like his bag out of the way, somehow feeling embaressed for having a messy room. Hers always seemed to be clean when he came around. Y/N knew that it wasn't the usual state and chuckled a bit when she saw him trying to tidy up quickly.

"Em, sorry, I'm just a bit out of myself," he mumbled sleepily. God, he was beyond cute, she thought. Trouble, trouble. She never saw him sleepy. Always just in and out - literally. She was walking into a trap of some sorts and knew it with every step she happily took.

"All good, no need to pretend, just be you," she said, without thinking too much into it. He looked at her, surprised. When she saw his look, she second guessed her own sentence. Was it too much? "You're already the worst person in my mind anyway, you can hardly go lower," she said to ease the mood. This is how they'd talk a week ago. But the words left a bitter taste on her tongue, not being exactly what she wanted to say.

"That's more like it," he said confidently.

This was wrong, Y/N thought. She will get hurt so badly. And yet, she still took the steps forward to his bed.

Cuddles were a new thing for Y/N and Lando. But when he embraced her, he couldn't stop himself from letting a loud sigh and a low "Fuck." It felt like they'd done this thousand times before. All so strangely familiar, unique and just right. There wasn't anything extra or standing out, they blended into each other as if they were always meant to do so.

She adjusted her breathing in order for them to synchronize - a perfect metaphor for what was happening there.

"So how was the debrief?" she asked, trying to avoid any subject connected to the two of them, worrying it might break the fragile unspoken bond.

"It was shit, as expected. A whole lot of "Not your fault, Lando, we'll be better next weekend" and bla bla bla.

"Yeah, that's fucked up," she responded.

"Like, do you think Max gets these kind of briefings? No, because unlike me, he does not fuck up."

She knew what he was talking about. The feeling of sharing a grid with someone perfect, someone who makes every one of your failures stand out.

"It's a cruel joke to be on the grid at the same time as Max. He is just built different. And that's hard to take in," she elaborated.

"Yeah, whatever. I know I can make it." Male ego was a serious topic in F1.

"One day we'll both be fighting for the podium and we'll see," she fantazised, trying to ease the tension.

"You're really brave, driving in F1, by the way. It really is stuck in the 1950's sometimes," he said something he wanted to express a long time ago.

It warmed her heart in a way like nothing he ever said before had. "Thank you for saying this."

He gently touched her on the upper arm when she shivered uncontrollably. "You good?" he asked, stopping immediately.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just really ticklish there."

Lando was surprised to find something new about her body. He thought he had it all figured out by now. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's also really weird feeling over there. I can't really describe it, but please avoid that place if you could."

"Noted, sweetie," he said and she melted even more. He had no idea.

Silence fell for few moments, Lando's eyes started slowly closing and sleep called for him.

"Why did you invite me to your room? You usually come over instead," she asked something that was on her mind this whole time. She took a leap of bravery, knowing that at every moment it could all blow up in her face.

"I dunno. Just felt like I wanted to do this differently tonight, you know?" he was struggling to put a right name on the feeling. "Would you like to stay over until the morning? I'm really enjoying the company of you body," he said sleepily and hugged her even tighter. His words burned her like a hot iron would. She did not understand, yet, that in Lando's vocabulary, that was the highest form of intimacy and compliment he could give. Her physical presence was making him calm, relaxed and he rarely felt so like himself these days. The way how she understood it, was that he only wanted her for her body, not the soul trapped inside. It is a different kind of lonely to feel when one is so close to someone else.

"Sure, I'll stay the night," she said, feeling like she surrendered everything she had for at least a taste of what could have been real.

He drifted to sleep quickly after that, while she stayed awake, unable to fall asleep, mind racing back and forth. He dreamed sleeping, she dreamed awake.

//

She wasn't there when he woke up, making him question whether her staying over actually happened. Was the feeling causing him headache disappointment? Then again, she might have saved them from a really awkward morning. Yesterday was a one time thing, nothing to set precedent over.

Awkward morning was exactly what she was trying to avoid. Maybe not awkward per say, but confused, mismatched and out of tune.

A crush. That's what she had. Of course she would. Thinking that one could just casually hook up with someone like Lando and not develop feelings was a foolish thing to assume, she thought to herself, cursing in the elevator and hitting the buttons with a little too much force than needed. Not much sleep was gathered that night for her. She kept tracing the lines of his chest, breathing his scent in and letting her imagination run wild. It was such a nice daydream to get lost in. Him being in love with her. The two of them, facing this strange world they shared, together. She felt understood, yet also the loneliest she'd ever felt in her life before. Mindlessly completing the simple tasks she had at hand, still loosing herself in the idea that the next night she was going to be spent again in his arms. She imagined the morning light hitting him and receiving a cheeky morning kiss while they shared a coffee cup before hitting up the gym. Together, as a couple. And their sessions interrupted by unhealthy amount of flirting and ending up in a whole different kind of cardio session.

She wondered when had her hatred made an u-turn.

There was a lot of silence in her day so far. Yet the one thing she wanted to do was talk. Suger-coat Lando to the moon and back, accidentally convince someone to convincing her into pursuing this further. It was like floating due to butterflies and being dragged down by a huge rock at the same time.

She sat at the lounge for charter flights, watching the big planes leave one by one. Her flight partner, Lewis, noticed how weirdly she was acting today and decided to find out why.

"Y/N?"

She twitched, surprised someone actually said her name. "Yes?"

"What's up? You seem...Not sure, if that's ok to say, but you look a little off," he said in his typically polite tone.

She debated whether to spill her beans about a stupid crush to a multi-year world champion. They were friends, in a mentor-student sort of vibe. But not even remotely close for that. But fuck it, it was either this or calling her mom, which she feared more quite frankly.

With a big sign, she started to confide in. "There's this guy..."

Lewis laughed a bit. "Ah, how human. I was afraid it's something racing related."

"I wish. Then I could talk about it more openly."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I guess so. Nobody really knows."

He careful thought out his question before continuing. "Is it someone from the paddock?"

She nodded. "Worse."

His eyes grew wide. "A driver??"

She nodded once again. "Yep."

It was Lewis now, who was distracting himself with the airplanes.

"We sacrifice a lot, us drivers, in order to make our dreams possible. I had my own love affair around the paddock, one of the female engineers," he started to reminisce, smiling. "But had to end it. The life-style was just too different back then. It was a distraction."

"Do you ever regret that?"

"Sometimes...mostly when I see her children. Could have been us, you know? But in the end, no I don't. You see, you and me, we have something in common."

"I know. The resposibility."

"Exactly. You're paving the way for future female drivers. You have twice as harder then the other drivers."

"I am getting really tired of that, you know? Why do I need to act with a responsibility of a whole gender?"

"Ultimately, you don't. But in a way, it's about what kind of a story you want people telling about you in the years to come."

She couldn't give two fucks about what people thought. Not anymore. She exhausted herself so much with these thoughts in the past.

"It's my life. I can't give it away to become a slave of the option of random people."

"That is a wise point of view. I mean, maybe it's true, look at the Wolffs. Slaying, as your generation would put it today."

She laughed. "Yes...slaying."

"But it took a lot of work from both parts. I remember that. I guess the question to ask is - are you both ready for that kind of a work?"

part 9

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #biting kink #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #lando norris x Y/N #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #f1 smut #smut #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #ln4 fic #love bites #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff

[steventhusiast]

STWG daily prompt 14/9/23

prompt: "You know what? It's not me, it's you."

pairing/character(s): steddie

-

Steve tries to ignore his father's irritated gaze as he eats his food. Bringing Eddie to a rare dinner with his parents was definitely a bold move, but he knows that if Eddie wasn't here he wouldn't survive it. Steve could barely force himself to come back to Hawkins for it, but his mother had guilted him into it.

It's so hard to pretend not to be hurt when his parents ask him things that prove they know nothing about him. (Especially now that he's nearing thirty and has started thinking about having kids himself.) But it's easier with Eddie's hand on his knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth for comfort.

"Steven, I thought I told you this was a family dinner." Robert says, pointedly looking over at Eddie.

To his credit, Eddie looks very comfortable despite the uncomfortable situation. He's meeting Robert's eyes for the subtle glares, and hasn't toned himself down at all. Steve's so glad he's here.

"Yep. You did." Steve answers his father, voice clipped.

Robert rolls his eyes, and that's when Linda finally speaks up. She's nicer about things than Robert is, but it couldn't be more fake. She offers Eddie and Steve a very tense fake smile.

"I think what Robert's trying to say is that we didn't expect you to bring a friend, sweetheart."

This time Steve rolls his eyes. How many times does he have to come out to them for them to stop ignoring it.

"Eddie's not a friend, mom. You know this."

"Steven." Robert warns.

"No, dad. I'm fucking tired of it." Steve says with an incredulous laugh, and Eddie gives his knee a gentle squeeze to catch his gaze.

"It's okay, Stevie."

The sweet tone of Eddie's voice calms Steve a little, and he's about to take a deep breath when Robert slices through the sweet moment.

"Now you're letting him call you a girl's name? I can't believe what this miscreant is doing to you, Steven."

Eddie rolls his eyes at the comment, and from the set of his jaw Steve knows he's gritting his teeth to hold himself back.

"You used to be such a lovely boy, Steven. But if you're still... Adamant about this lifestyle, then I don't know if we can support it. It's very unreasonable and irresponsible of you." Linda adds on.

Steve laughs again at the insinuation that they've ever supported him at all, and lifts a hand to run through his hair as he thinks through his next words.

"No, mom. You know what? It's not me that's being an unreasonable piece of shit here. It's you two. You practically dragged me back to this shithole because you're 'grieving' grandma. I didn't want to come. I don't want to be here right now. But I am. And you're just..." He trails off and makes a vague gesture to the two of them.

Linda's mouth has dropped open from her own son swearing at her, and Robert's face is twisted into an expression of anger. Steve doesn't know why he thought this was anywhere close to a good idea.

"I mean what is this? Why am I here? I am twenty nine years old, and I will not sit here and listen to you talk to the man I love like this."

He makes direct eye contact with Robert as he speaks, not softening his glare at all. If his parents are going to drop the facade of respect, so is he. In fact, after glaring at his parents for a few seconds, he just gets up, grabs Eddie's hand, and pulls him toward the door.

"Fuck this." He mutters as they leave.

"That sucked." Eddie comments once they're in their car, and Steve huffs out a strained laugh as he nods. Now that they're out of that situation, and his adrenaline is starting to crash, inexplicable tears are starting to well in his eyes, "But you have also never been hotter. Standing up to the man like that? Most elaborate foreplay ever, Stevie-bee."

And then the ridiculousness of that comment shocks a laugh out of him, and the tears are gone. He grins over at Eddie and shakes his head at how Eddie's clearly holding back his own laughter.

God, he loves him.

#steddie #stwgdailyprompt #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #dailydrabble #mywriting

[myosotisa]

there are bones in my closet - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖  summary: You can't control what your scars have done to you, but you can control what you're going to do about it and who you're going to trust with them.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort, post season 4 volume 2. contains content referring to anxiety, depression, ptsd, unresolved trauma, and their symptoms. you comforting Steve and Steve comforting you. written all in one sitting and unedited, so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll go back and fix them at some point.

‖  word count: 3.8k

You both had scars; seen and unseen.

Some of his were physical. Puckered pink and tight scar tissue on either side of his torso, a smaller section on one shoulder. A straight, light line of discoloration across his throat. The special glasses he had to wear and the pills he had to take to keep the migraines at bay.

The rest were less obvious. A tensing of his shoulders whenever something flew by him and he wasn’t expecting it, even if it was as small as a bee. White knuckle grips, and sometimes a full body flinch, at the crack of thunder or flash of lightning. An uneasy feeling that led to irritability when he had to go outside while it was foggy. Wide, panicked eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat. His protective nature morphed, shifted, grew into something that could sometimes feel stifling. The anxiety that accompanied the fear behind the protection.

When you first got closer to Steve Harrington, it was easy for you to tell he had ghosts following him wherever he went. You knew because you had them too.

A tendency to jump or freeze at a loud noise or when someone raised their voice. Hints of subtle pain hiding behind your eyes around the holidays, your birthday, when people talked about their family and you forced a smile. How you could go from the life of the party, talking and laughing and helping everyone, and start to go quiet so quickly, sometimes entirely without warning. The way it wasn’t unusual for you to disappear for days at a time, no one knowing you were simply buried in your covers and unable to emerge. And sometimes, even when you were right next to him, right next to anyone, you would still feel so far away.

Steve was haunted by things that had long since died and you were too.

The first time you saw the signs in him was early April 1986.

You’d barely known him then. Both of you had known of each other in school but that was pretty much it – orbited different planets in the same solar system. When you met him again, or for the first time really, at the donation drive at the high school, he wasn’t at all what you remembered. King Steve was wearing a little name tag and folding shirts, pants, towels, and anything else set before him and then organizing it into piles just like one of your colleagues had asked him to.

Although pretty busy trying to wrangle a few other volunteers who seemed to have bitten off more than they could chew when it came to washing the bedding on the cots lining the gym, you couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him. How he had a heated but whispered argument with Robin Buckley from a year behind you, and then smiled like a proud father as she made peanut butter sandwiches. Turned into an absolute mother hen when a curly haired brunette walked by him with a limp, leaving his station to usher him over to a set of chairs and gave him what looked like a finger wag before ruffling the boy's curls. He only went back to folding when an older man, who you recognized as one of the people staying here, came and sat down next to the boy, waving Steve off with a shaky hand.

A few other preteens came by and talked to him, the only one you recognized being Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother Mike. He spoke with all of them with what could only be described as fond annoyance – like how you would talk to a younger sibling or a best friend. It intrigued you, for lack of a better word. An earthquake had shattered Hawkins and here was Steve Harrington: folding an endless number of fabrics that just kept growing, greeting anyone who tried to talk to him with a charming smile, and looking out for a select group of what appeared to be his friends.

After a particularly long conversation with two local moms, you noticed it. The smile was more forced, his responses less enthusiastic, shoulders rolling forward and eyes closing with a deep breath when he thought no one was looking at him.

He looked exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix.

When another local came and chatted him up, carrying most of the conversation as Steve replied politely, and then clapped him on the back – he choked. A tightening of his chest, his neck, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a few coughs. The man looked worried, asking him if he was okay, if he had hurt him. Then brown eyes blinked open wide again and flickered around wildly. His shoulders started to fall and rise faster, a flush creeping up his neck.

Your bleeding heart cracked a bit more as you stepped inbetween the man and him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you glanced back at the man, who gave a hesitant shrug before making an escape, and you returned to the wild eyes of Steve. “Volunteer coordinator here, do you think you could come help me with something?”

There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes as they glanced from you to the room like he was looking for a way to escape. His voice was slightly hoarse when he tried to respond, “I… I, uh-”

Lightly pressing the tips of your fingers to the clenched fist of his hand, you lowered your voice as quietly as you could. “Just come with me.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a single errant tear sliding down his pink cheek, before he gave a stunted nod.

You could feel eyes on your back as you walked with him off of the floor and into the swinging door of the kitchen.

Struggling with the weight, you pulled open the heavy metal door to the walk in fridge and motioned him inside. He didn’t question it as he stepped in and you followed behind him.

The space was small but not claustrophobic, large wire shelves on either side as the heavy door softly closed behind you. Eyes searching, you landed on a long plank of what looked like frozen pork ribs.

“Hold this please,” was the only thing you said as you thrust it into his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion but he took the slab, the ice cold object ending up nestled into his chest. Perfect. “Thanks, now just wait here a minute,” you inched past him, both of you having to rotate in order for you to get past without touching each other, “I have to grab one more thing.”

You didn’t. You didn’t need the ribs either. But you opened up the faded white ice chest in the back of the walk in and started digging through it, looking for nothing. Your companion didn’t say a word in the enclosed space, but you could tell the cold was doing its job as his breathing started to slow down. After pretending to dig for another few minutes, you stood up straight again and let the lid fall closed before hopping up to sit on top of it.

Steve was standing there dutifully and holding the frozen meat close to him just as you’d asked. The flush rising up from his chest had been replaced with pink nose and cheeks from the cold, dry air, and his chest rose and fell at a more reasonable rate. The panic in his eyes had abated and the tears blinked away as his head slightly swiveled to look around the metal container you both were in.

“You can put the meat down now if you want.”

He startled a bit, gaze returning to you having not realized you were sitting there watching him. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t actually need your help,” you offered plainly, motioning to the pork he was basically hugging. “The cold helps the panic go away.”

His head drops to look over the plastic bundle in his arms. “The…? No, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain.”

A few moments passed as Steve’s grip on the meat shifted before he set it back on the shelf you had taken it from. Now free, his arms crossed over his chest and he shifted on his feet slightly. You took your own few moments to slow down, to breathe. To let the cold air recover you as much as it could before you had to go back out there.

Go back to grieving widows and broken families and people suddenly without homes or possessions. People crying, screaming, trying to make sense of something senseless. Some looking out for ways to help, some desperately seeking help no one could reasonably provide. You would keep going until your heart bled dry and then just a little farther, just to go back to your empty apartment and do it again the next day.

But it was what you could do. It was something you could do. A way you could help.

Rescuing Steve Harrington from having a panic attack in a crowded school gym was a way you could help even when you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

His voice is gentle when he asks, “how did you know…?”

That he was panicking? That the cold would help? That he needed help?

“Guess when you know what it feels like, you know what it looks like.”

He seems to quietly consider your answer as he quietly considers you. Eyes searching, posture guarded, energy unsettled. You want to show a kind smile, open palms, telling him sweet words that will settle him, do the job that you’re supposed to be doing here.

But you’re so exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. And you just need a few more minutes before you put the act back on.

Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because his arms fell from his chest, one lowering to rest on his hip as he leaned the opposite shoulder against the shelf beside him.

“Do you, uh, have any other tips and tricks?” He hesitantly asks, his gaze locked on your dirty sneakers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The first time he saw yours was early June 1986.

The two of you had spent a steadily increasing amount of time together as he continued to volunteer to help at the makeshift shelter and you continued coordinating. When it was possible, the two of you would end up on a station together and you’d get a few more clues into what exactly were the skeletons in Steve’s closet. Hushed conversations about a friend in the hospital, about a friend they’d lost, about one they’d gotten back. Stories like you heard every single time you worked, but these felt different. The more you watched, the more you saw the string that tied all of them together. How it wasn’t just Steve looking out for his people, but them looking out for him and each other too.

A group of people that made no sense to be together but bonded in a way that couldn’t have happened peacefully.

Sometimes he would be talking to one of them – one of the preteens, or Robin, or Nancy Wheeler, or Jonathan Byers, or Joyce Byers, or the newly revived Sheriff Hopper – and would nervously glance your way like they didn’t want you to hear. You pretended not to.

If you could have stopped listening, you would have. But you heard and processed everything around you whether you wanted to or not.

Regardless of some of the strange things that floated into your ears, you never said a word about it. Never talked about the scar on his neck, or the scars on his sides you had gotten peeks at when he reached for something up high. Never asked why sometimes his whole body would start to react as if he was in a life or death situation, never questioned what triggered those moments. Never mentioned that when you weren’t working together, you could feel his eyes on you like a hawk, like you were one of the people he looked out for now too.

Never admitted how terrified that made you.

In return, he never asked why you would suddenly disappear for an hour and re-emerge with frozen fingers. Never pressed when you told him you were fine even though you couldn’t say it convincingly. Never forced you to talk when you fell silent or made you feel like you had to act a certain way or fulfill a certain need for him.

He just needed someone. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that.

You needed someone too. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who could see past the performance, see when the shadows drew in tighter and started to choke you, see that you were trying so fucking hard all the time. You needed someone who would understand that you were going to fight tooth and nail against the idea of needing someone – a trapped animal lashing out at anyone who tried to get close because they didn’t know if they were going to set it free or make the killing blow.

You didn’t know Steve could be that person until he proved it.

The day had started off shit. You’d woken up in a haze and debated if this was one of the days that would make you bury your head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. Your first mistake was deciding to get up and go back to work anyway.

Your second mistake was putting Butter Handy Andy on dish washing duty.

You’d been talking to Vickie McAdams about the supplies you all had available for making dinner tonight when a huge crash came from inside the kitchen. Completely unprepared for a sudden noise that loud, you couldn’t hold in the yelp, couldn’t mask the way your entire body tensed, couldn’t help the way you immediately stopped in the middle of your sentence. Frozen, heart stuttering an uneven rhythm in your chest, the contents of your stomach kicking up, and people were staring. People were staring. Everyone was looking at you and thinking there was something wrong with you and you’re weak and broken.

Sweet, sweet Vickie, with a concerned furrow to her brow and a calm smile, asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

It took 75% of what you had left to put the act back on.

“Yup, just spooked me a little.” You laughed and then she laughed and then it felt like you had saved it, fooled them, protected yourself. It felt like the eyes were off of you.

Well, all except 2.

Your third mistake was stepping in between two men who had started an argument by the missing persons board.

Already running on fumes, you really should’ve thrown in the towel an hour ago. But giving up wasn’t a skill of yours and all that awaited you at home was silence and skeletons, so you kept the engine running. The disagreement had started quietly but quickly escalated into a screaming match in front of everyone in the room. Having forgotten yourself, gotten lost in the role you were playing as a coordinator and a leader, you’d immediately approached and tried to talk them down. Neither paid any attention to you and more people were starting to gather, either to watch or concerned they needed to do something. A baby nearby started to wail and the murmur of the gathering people grew and all the noise continued to grow into a tidal wave that rushed in your ears.

One of the men raised a fist like he was going to throw a punch. You rocketed forward, putting yourself between them with your hands out to try to stop him. And you did – the forward motion of his fist stopped. But then his other hand fisted in the fabric of your shirt near the collar and he tossed you away like you were nothing. You stumbled and then fell, gasping out in pain and shock as your tailbone made contact with the shiny, wooden floor.

The crowd descended then; pulling the two men apart before either of them could come to harm. People rushed for you, throwing out questions of ‘are you hurt?’, ‘what were you thinking?’, ‘are you okay?’ as hands you didn’t know forced you back to your feet. There were so many eyes and so many questions and so many hands and everyone was so close and everything was so loud and you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move and you couldn’t talk.

You ran.

Pushed your way through the small circle of near strangers that had formed around you and settled into a run toward the swinging kitchen door. Through the door, past where Andy was still dropping pots and pans into soapy water without a care in the world, past the walk in fridge, and out the back doors. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and humid and choking you as you kept fucking running. You didn’t know if anyone followed you, you didn’t even try to look. You just listened to the frantic beat of your heart that told you to keep going or else it would be the end of you.

Your feet carried you to a familiar place that you hadn’t seen in a few years. You ran out of breath and had to stop just as you reached the bleachers along the mile track behind the school. They were coated in shades of orange, making the dusty track beyond them look even older as the sun carried down toward the horizon.

Despite your lungs and legs not being able to run any further, you were still thrumming with adrenaline, muscles tensed, chest tight, heart and mind racing out of control. You couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back in control.

A hand lightly tapped your shoulder and you swung.

Steve Harrington dodged your fist like a man who had taken more than his fair share of punches.

“Woah, hey, just me,” he offered calmly, hands coming up in a surrender gesture. The wire rim glasses were a recent addition, only a month or so old. You’d overheard one of his friends joke that maybe if he had taken one less knock to the noggin he wouldn’t need them. Hurt eyes or not, they flickered over you, caught sight of the heaving of your chest, the blood shot eyes, how you panted out between your teeth and arched your back like a cornered animal.

You certainly sounded a bit like one as you barked, “What the fuck do you want, Steve?”

He instinctively stepped back at the venom in your tone, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and said nothing. The fear in his eyes quickly abated and then his expression fell. Not into one of pity or worry, like you normally expected. No, Steve looked at you like someone who knew, but didn’t know. Someone who understood. And it broke you.

Denim covered knees hit dust as you fell on them hard enough to hurt. You didn’t feel it, the physical pain, too distracted by the agony of your bleeding heart cracking your chest wide open. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face into your sweaty hands and shook with the force of your tears. Gasping in a few sharp gulps of air as the cries continued to force themselves out of your mouth.

Firm, warm arms circled your shoulders and forced you off your knees and onto your ass and thigh, legs off to one side as your upper body made contact with a solid chest. His grip around you was tight, almost bone crushing, and despite the way you thought it would trigger you more, it was grounding. Something solid, something real, something physical while everything else felt like sand running right through your fingers. Despite the unexpected comfort offered, your sobs continued.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, barely audible due to your crying. “You’re safe.”

The word ‘safe’ made your bleeding heart shatter into pieces, another sharp wail leaving you as your nails started to dig into the skin of your face. Almost like he knew, Steve momentarily released one of his arms to force your hands away from your face and press them into his chest, encouraging your fingers to fist in his shirt instead. You obliged subconsciously, hands twisting in his loose t-shirt as you pressed your eyes into his shoulder instead. Satisfied, he returned both arms to his tight circle that held you pressed to him.

You don’t know how long you both sat there on the track behind Hawkins High School. Long enough for the automatic lights to flick on over the field and the sunset to dip into golden reds and purples as night crept closer. Long enough for your ass to fall asleep and for your crying to stop and for your breathing to return to normal and then even longer than that.

He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then it was with reluctance.

Making eye contact for the first time, you didn’t think before the words tumbled out of you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like his shirt wasn’t damp with your tears and he hadn’t followed you out here while you ran like your life depended on it.

Wanting to argue that you had plenty to be sorry for, instead you shifted gears to the part of you that desperately wanted to give some kind of excuse or a reason to what had just occurred. “I swear, I normally don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you with a kind smile, one hand giving your knee a soft squeeze before returning to his own lap. “You don’t have to explain.”

The shattered bits of your heart that lay in the wasteland of your chest thumped once, twice.

“Thank you,” it came out of you as barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, eyes warm and gentle. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

Thumped once, twice beneath the fear.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

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thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please give it a reblog and leave a comment, as they make my day <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #stranger things hurt/comfort #myos ideas #myo4harrington

[kay-jaye]

aziraphale is pretty sure attempting to sneak a demon into heaven is a bad idea.

forget the fact that he’s the supreme archangel. forget the fact that the second coming is not going at all according to plan—his plan…the ineffable plan? forget the fact that he and crowley haven’t had a moment alone that wasn’t interrupted by muriel or maggie or nina or a legion of demons or the end of the world.

forget the fact that crowley hasn’t taken those wretched sunglasses off since…

it’s definitely a bad idea.

crowley is wearing a cream-colored suit over one of those turtlenecks with a gold version of his usual scarf, saying something about heavenly bees, but whatever joke he’s trying to make falls flat because all aziraphale can think is, i could appoint you to be an angel, you could come back to heaven, and isn’t that the pinnacle of cruel irony?

he understands why the disguise is necessary; it’s the not-so-subtle rub-in-the-face from a bitter demon squeezing his heart into a fist. it’s the prick of unease in the back of his mind that something isn’t quite right, the floor is at an odd angle, that book belongs on a different shelf. at the same time, it’s the you’re gorgeous he’s longed to return since before the beginning, sitting behind clenched teeth every day for 6,000 years. and it’s the realization that this was not what he imagined at all.

“this the one?” crowley asks, flipping through a file laid out on michael’s desk. “supreme archangel, and they’re still keeping secrets from you, huh?”

aziraphale would appreciate it if crowley would refrain from certain reminders. “yes, that’s it.” he looks around the pillar he’s taken to leaning against, waiting for the inevitable repercussion of being caught in the act. his suit is newer, sharper, grayer, but at this rate, all the worrying his thumbs have been doing to the fabric of the jacket is bound to have him looking his normal self. he supposes crowley sees something similarly foreign whenever he looks at him.

“wait, these are—”

“i know.”

crowley’s frown deepens as he rummages through the papers and documents and photos that aziraphale spent so long staring at, debating if coming back to beg crowley for help was worth the knife wounding his pride, and whether crowley would simply twist it instead and tell him to fuck off.

(he did, at first.)

too many things on the tip of his tongue—another apology, a frustrated yell, the heavy memory of crowley.

“you were right,” he settles with a sigh.

the demon pauses, considers him, then closes the vanilla folder, dragging the projected holograms back into the file. aziraphale braces for an “i told you so” or the self-deprecating laughter that’s made an increased appearance in wake of his leaving. the damn sunglasses render his expression unreadable, a book aziraphale regarded himself as an expert on, but now he isn’t so sure he’d ever gotten the words right to begin with.

then crowley is smiling at him. no sneer, no malice. crowley’s smile is small, two parts sad and muted expectations, and aziraphale feels like he’s being offered something important, more than a title, more than a job, more than the opportunity to fix the unfixable, though he certainly tried, and he’ll be damned before he lets it go. it’s still angry, but it’s so much realer than anything aziraphale has felt up here for months, and aziraphale knows. he knows they need to talk, and even if they’re just as irreparable as heaven and the whole system, he knows which one he’ll be devoted to mending.

“can i get that in dance form?”

and suddenly aziraphale knows what it is to soar without wings.

he doesn’t get the chance to respond before michael’s approaching voice sends him into a panic. aziraphale hopes the click of heels on white porcelain tile will drown out the sound of their own shuffling as he lunges for crowley, who just manages to grab the file they came for, and pulls him around the pillar.

there aren’t many good hiding places in heaven. why would there be? it’s supposed to reflect truth and dispel lies. the good thing about being an archangel, however, is the ability to alter heaven’s layout, although minutely. you want a desk? there. you want to lengthen the hallway from uriel’s office to yours? done. you want a slightly darker corridor leading into the wall a few feet to the left of michael’s desk? aziraphale does.

he almost shushes crowley’s quiet yelp of surprise when he frantically presses the demon into the alcove out of sight, and aziraphale feels the punched-out exhale more than he actually hears it.

it’s deja vu. they’re back in tadfield manor except crowley’s holding a folder containing plans for judgment day trapped between them, and aziraphale’s the one with his hands clutching lapels like they might leave with another stinging don’t bother. the moment is dangerously loaded because fuck, aziraphale has no idea where crowley’s sunglasses got thrown in his haste, and crowley’s looking at him, really looking at him, without dark lenses to hide the way his eyes flicker down or the split-second fear that flashes across them.

aziraphale is crushing their chests together, and crowley is caving under him, and jesus isn’t here yet, but there wouldn’t have been room for him anyway.

“angel,” crowley breathes, and aziraphale knows it’s a slip of the tongue because crowley hasn’t called him that since they last parted ways.

aziraphale’s mind is a constant loop of yellow, yellow, yellow, and it takes every ounce of remaining self-control in his body not to lean forward and do what he should’ve done months ago. he doesn’t have quite enough left to pull back though, so he’s stuck on the verge of never knowing how to ask for what he wants, always too good at backtracking for their own safety, afraid to do it now because he really thought last time was the last time, and he doesn’t know if crowley can take another rejection.

aziraphale doesn’t know if he can either.

any sound of michael has disappeared.

aziraphale reckons this is the part where he’s supposed to say something like, “i’m not nice. nice is a four-letter word.” aziraphale reckons crowley might even agree with him. he doesn’t feel nice; all these millennia of you go too fast for me, crowley, and i don’t even like you.

their noses bump as crowley shifts his head. “aziraphale,” he says. it makes the angel want to cry. “‘s alright.”

so crowley’s catching the bullet this time, and that’s all it takes for aziraphale’s grip to loosen. he steps back—all too familiar a motion—and watches the demon smooth himself out.

“crowley, i—”

“nah,” he interrupts, waving the file in his hands. “talk later, remember?”

aziraphale relaxes, wonders what miracle gave him this and who performed it, wonders which stars aligned and whether crowley knew about them. the angel nods.

neither speaks again until the elevator doors are closing and the angel disguise has fallen away.

crowley, in all of his too-tight pants and infinite patience, doesn’t even look at aziraphale when he says, “dance later, too.”

#good omens #good omens fic #reverse wall slam #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #supreme archangel aziraphale #um the last one got some unexpected but very appreciated attention so here's another #kayjaye writes

[pinkanonwrites]

nervously peeks in? hihello could I ask about any more headcanons you might have for EarthSpark Bee? Since I also love where they're going with him? I'm personally torn about whether he'd be super boastful about having a SO or if he'd keep it more on the downlow. I feel like the Terrans would love it so much though but might tease him-

Hihellohi to you too! I'd be delighted to write out a few more of my thoughts on Earthspark Bumblebee!

EARTHSPARK BUMBLEBEE HCs

If he was in a relationship with you before he was stationed with the Terrans I think he'd keep your relationship on the down low for a while. Not because he's a shamed of you or anything, far from it! But, well... Those kids can be a little intense. He loves them, but he really doesn't want to overwhelm you. And full honesty, he's not ready for the teasing and badgering he knows he'll receive after finally spilling the beans. He wants to keep you to himself just a little bit longer.

On the other hand, if he's already been with the Terrans for a while before you start a relationship, I think it's painfully obvious to the Malto family that he has feelings for you. He's not stumbling over his words or falling all over himself whenever you're around, but he'll always volunteer himself first whenever you need, well, anything! A ride, a helping hand, a listening audial, or maybe you just want to learn more about Transformers, he'd do anything for you. Alex and Dot obviously catch on first, but they choose not meddle and let Bumblebee figure things out at his own pace. The kids however? Are not so kind.

Hashtag is the first to put it together, and it causes an immediate schism when she brings it up to the others. Her, Twitch, Jawbreaker, and Mo all think Bee is head over heels for you, but Robby, Thrash, and Nightshade are convinced he's just being polite and helpful. Cue the spying, curious looks, and far-from-subtle prying from all of them when it comes to Bee and his supposed affection, slowly bringing the three 'non-believers' into the fold after seeing all the ways Bumblebee is completely head over heels for you.

Bee himself is very embarrassed about it, mainly because he had no idea he was being so obvious. He also can't really see you reciprocating the feelings. After all, you're surrounded by humans like yourself every day while he's a twenty foot tall space robot. So he keeps waffling on the idea of confessing, always deciding that "it's just not the right time."

I actually think it's Mo of all people who convinces him to finally shoot his shot. After all the prodding and scheming and badgering by all the kids, she's the one to just say to him that he'll probably regret it if he doesn't at least try. It's so blunt and so honest and so EXACTLY what he needed to hear that he asks to take you for a drive the next time he sees you.

(This would be a fun fic idea, actually. I should bounce this around in my head a little more.)

#transformers #transformers earthspark #bumblebee #es bumblebee #transformers x reader #x reader #transformers imagines #long post #pink chat #anon

[subastian-swallows]

FLUFF ALPHABET — HLC

Ominis Gaunt ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Category: Fluffy Fluff ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Ominis adores the way you see the world, and not in a ‘well I can’t see so you tell me,’ kind of way. But in a way that he could listen to you for hours, simply explaining what flower you saw on your walk today or about the bee that attacked Sebastian in Herbology. He adores the way you experience the world around you and he feels almost connected with you — because of it. He’s never cared for seeing things, he got used to it and had years to practise. But listening to you talk about everything that makes you happy, makes him happy and what makes you sad, makes him sad. He could say he adores the way you laugh, when you’re really happy or how your voice quivers slightly when you’re sad, but that would be too easy an answer. Instead, he adores the little things — things people might not notice, but he does. Like how your voice elevates when you’re excited or when your answers grow short when you’re grumpy. He adores it all.

B = Body (what is their favourite part of your body?)

Ominis is a lot more subtle about this, abruptness being Sebastian’s thing. And the thing about his favourite parts of you, is well everything. Of course, this answer would frustrate you a little — thinking it’s him taking the easy way out of answering, until he pulls you towards him. He would then grumble and slowly map out each part of you, how your nose angles a certain way, or how your eyes crinkle at the sides when your happy, or how your lips curves perfectly no matter if your happy or sad. He would explain in soft detail, that he might not be able to see you, but he can feel you and it helps the image of you in his head. So that is why his favourite parts of you is everything — he has created the perfect imagine of the perfect person for himself and that is you.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Ominis cuddles depend on his mood much like Sebastian. But unlike Sebastian who I believe prefers touching in a different way, like holding your hand — Ominis needs almost full body contact. For example: resting his head in your lap, hands playing with your fingers, while you speak about your day. Or holding you from behind as you sit in his lap, studying. Or the full body embraces you provide him when he has a nightmare, the pressure of you being the perfect thing to bring him back to the ground. Ominis is subtle about PDA in front of others, partly unsure of himself and constantly feeling like you could do better, but that doesn’t stop him from cuddling you quickly and acting like he’s reaching for a book in the Library or a vial in Potions.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Ominis’ ideal date is being with you. And yes, that might sound lame or an easy answer — but to Ominis, he doesn’t see it that way. Truthfully, he just wants to do anything that makes you happy, anything that allows him the chance to hear the change in your voice when you’re excited or the noises you make when you’re surprised. He just likes knowing you’re happy and if that means he’s begrudgingly following you into a cave, gripping your hand tightly and wishing he had more of a backbone with you, then so be it. More often than not, Ominis prefers to visit Hogsmeade with you or the lake, just enjoying each other’s company while you explain what you can see. He loves listening to you talk and just sitting in the common room together — is more than enough.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Ominis is more subtle. I feel like subtly is something he has become accustomed to, growing up the way he did — showing weakness was treated like the worst thing imaginable and so he got really good at hiding it. He doesn’t mean to be like this, more often than not, feeling a little guilty about holding so much in — but with you, he slowly opens up more. You bring out the part of him that he thought he had lost and he knows he could never repay you for that. When Ominis is angry, it’s perhaps the only time you know for certain — he’s a hot head in the complete 180 to Sebastian and he grows quiet. He doesn’t necessarily want to take it out on you, so he hides until he can speak his mind — it usually being about you putting yourself in harms way etc. He doesn’t like being angry at you and it doesn’t happen often — but you know when giving him space is needed.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Now this is a hard one. For I believe that Ominis wouldn’t want to continue his family’s bloodline. I think he would have drilled it into his head, that he didn’t deserve the happiness of a family, feeling sick at the idea of his bloodline expanding. But you would change that eventually, perhaps even by accident. Truthfully, he just doesn't like the idea, but I think deep down — raising a child with you, would bring him more joy than he could even admit. If it happened by accident, I think he would find it nerve-racking at first, scared that he wouldn't do a good job — considering how he was raised. But you would easily win him over and when the time came to it, he realises he was simply being foolish — and he ends up being a great father and even better husband.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Ominis loves gifting you things. It's another subtle way of him to express his love to you — without having to say it out loud, which he finds hard sometimes. His gifts at first were a little lavish and you eventually had to tell him that you don't need such things, but Ominis usually doesn't listen — and buys them anyway. The more subtle things would be flowers or chocolate and they would be hand delivered in secret or on passing — you would be busily focused on something in the courtyard, maybe with your friends. He would appear out of the blue, kissing you on the head, before handing it to you and disappearing again — not needing a thank you.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Hand holding is something really intimate to Ominis — he loves it, loves the feeling of your hand in his and he especially loves tracing the lines and curves of your fingers and palm. He often doesn't mind if others notice, but more often than not, Ominis doesn't like showing other's that side of him. Like I said, he's not big on PDA, but that doesn't stop him from holding your hand — subtly holding them beneath the table in the great hall or beneath your robes as you sit close together on the benches watching the latest Quidditch match.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Ominis would be livid. He would also be completely panicked and overwhelmed — worried over if you were seriously injured. Truthfully, Ominis would be the first at your side and the last at your side — constantly asking you if you need anything or what he could do to make things easier. If the injury was due to someone else, well they better watch out — Ominis holds a grudge like no other and he would make sure they are punished rightfully so. In the end he would dote on you hard, fluffing your pillows, helping you eat — despite you saying you can do it. He would just be super sweet.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Ominis joking around is hard to come by — but not impossible. He usually needs help, possibly coming to you in a weird mood and being like 'lets mess with Sebastian today?' This would be just little things like misplacing his belongings, ignoring him. Ominis doesn't tend to be one who plays pranks, but will join in on occasion. He does love teasing you though and tickles, Ominis is very ticklish.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Ominis' kisses are soft, passionate, loving and memorable. Depending on the situation, Ominis kisses you as if he's going to lose you — as if you will realise you deserve better. When his kisses are soft, he kisses you delicately — his lips lingering in each spot he places them and he always ends them with a small smile. When his kisses are passionate, he kisses you with desire and longing — as if he is under a spell and his hands twist wildly in your clothes, pulling you close, desperate for your touch. When his kisses are loving and memorable, he kisses with devotion — with the idea that he wants to remember you completely. He normally traces your face with his fingers, but more often than not, he prefers doing it with his lips, his tongue. He wants to create your picture in his mind and lock it away forever, never wishing to forget it.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Ominis, like Sebastian is three of the five, love languages. Words of affirmation, Quality time and Physical touch. He loves telling you his feelings, especially when you both can slip away from the world. He needs you to hear it often, something he wasn't accustom to growing up and so he goes, almost over the top to make sure you know his feelings — this is only when you both finally told each other. Before that Ominis typically bottles everything up. Quality time and Physical touch is just as important to Ominis — being near you, touching you, even if it's just your hand, makes him incredibly happy and it's how he shows you in public that he loves you. You're the first person he wants to talk to and the last, he needs you with him at all times — and you willingly agree to it.

M = Memory (favourite memory together?)

First time you bring him to the Room of Requirement. It's the middle of sixth-year and your Hippogriffs have had their babies and all you want to do is share it with him. Ominis has always been curious — but also incredibly nervous. It's the first time you touch hands, in more of intimate way, than just normal. You support him and he trusts you, to pat the Hippogriffs — and he can't stop himself from kissing you. It's sudden and a little awkward — his lips missing yours slightly as he moves to fast and you laugh, before supporting him to do it right again.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

His family is usually what he has nightmares of. What he was made to do, what he had to go through with etc. You often find him shakily keeping busy in the Undercroft after his nightmares and when you make yourself known — it doesn't take long before he breaks down in your arms. You allow him to cry, for there is nothing wrong with it and you simply just hold him — tightening your grip around him when he needs it. You then talk, about anything really and you keep talking into Ominis feels better. Reminding him constantly that he isn't them and he is a good person.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Ominis hums when he’s focused. At first you thought someone had charmed something in the Library to play music, when it got really quiet. But it was and had always been Ominis, his soft humming a tune — that has become his favourite. He doesn’t notice it either and it’s always when he’s so focused on something else that the only one who does is you or the others around him. You find it incredibly cute, Ominis finds it super embarrassing and yet — can’t help himself most of the time.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Darling

My Love

Angel

Beloved

Beautiful

Mi Amore

Trouble

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Ominis doesn't care how he spends his time with you. It could be studying in the Library, lazing in the sun in one of the courtyards or simply sitting in the common room together. All that matters is that you're both together and aren't interrupted. He enjoys every moment where he gets to spend it with you and when you're apart, he simple whines so much that eventually Sebastian drags him to you and tags you in — you laugh every time.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Yours - Conan Gray

Die For You - Joji

Until I Found You - Stephen Sanchez

Those Eyes - New West

j's lullaby (darlin' i'd wait for you) - Delaney Bailey

Complex - Katie Gregson-Macleod

I'm In Love With You - The 1975

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Ominis is more secretive, but not because he doesn't trust you. Truthfully, it's because he doesn't want to burden with you with all of the drama he deals with behind closed doors. The constant pressure from his family, often gets too much and when you eventually find him and question him about it — he tries to wave it away. You, however are stubborn and when you sit him down and get it out of him, Ominis slowly breaks down his walls and tells you everything.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

End of the sixth-year. With everything that happened in your fifth-year, anything 'feeling' related was put on hold. Truthfully, from the beginning of the sixth-year, Ominis knew he was in love with you, realising almost quite quickly that he didn't want to be away from you. Then it became awkward for a bit — perhaps, because Ominis thought you wouldn't feel the same, Sebastian was more your type...right? It's only after you both study together, tucked away in the back of the Library that he thoughts spill out — before he can stop them and he wonders what you think of him. He's shy now, but you smile and lean over and kiss his cheek softly — Ominis blushes hard and all you leave him with is one thing: 'I like you, Ominis, took you long enough to figure it out.' You both start dating in private for a while, before telling anyone.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Ominis can always tell. For some reason he's tuned into your emotions better than you are — knowing exactly when it changes, even just by a little. Perhaps, it's with how much time you spend together, but when you're upset, before you even need to say anything — Ominis whisks you away from everyone and nestles you in an embrace. He holds you for a while, until you either laugh or cry — depending on why you're upset and when you eventually tell him what's happened, he always knows how to make you happy.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Ominis is proud of you. How could he not be? He's never met a more interesting, stubborn, intelligent, beautiful person — and everything you do either amazes him or stresses him out. Either way, he's always discussing your talents and everything you've accomplished — truthfully, he just loves you. He doesn't need to show you off and well, to be honest — he doesn't want to. You see if he did, then you'd have more interest your way and well, Ominis doesn't want to share your attention.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He doesn't hate you fighting, but he doesn't like it. Truthfully, he just wants you to be safe and he already stresses out enough with you and Sebastian's friendship — that listening to you talk about Ashwinders and poachers, gives him a headache. Ominis would fight beside you, for you and with you — if you asked. He hates people considering him to be less than, because he's blind — but don't be mistaken, having Ominis with you, is a great asset and you love it. Especially when he gets all hot and sweaty.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Ominis can read you better than you can read yourself. He's so tuned into you, that it's almost scary that he just knows what's going on with you and if you're happy or sad. Truthfully you love it, for the most part — considering it means you never have to say much, which helps when you're sad. But, it can be a little frustrating when you're mad at him and he won't give you space, when you need it.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Ominis would be reluctant, perhaps the idea had come up — but considering how he feels about his family, he would be worried about you. When he eventually gets over this and stops being a coward, his words, Ominis would propose to you in a romantic way. Consider, receiving a letter to ask you to meet in a spot you both had your first kiss and he would propose, with his whole heart, explaining in every little detail that he will take care of you for the rest of your life and he can't see himself with anyone else. He would remember from past conversations your favourite gemstone and would get a ring made with it — one of a kind, just like you.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

You.

HOPE YOU ENJOY MY LOVES! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

Tagging: @spaceyaceface <3 enjoy hehe

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts #ominis x you #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis imagine #ominis x y/n #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt fic #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Wayne Knows Best

Summary: Wayne wants to make sure Eddie and his new boyfriend are being careful, but Eddie's confused... he doesn't have a boyfriend, does he?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3,881

AO3 Link

-------

Wayne Munson had always been more observant than he looked. When he first took in his nephew Eddie, the kid constantly thought he could outsmart him, and pull the wool over his eyes as he had his father. But Wayne knew better than that. 

Eddie grew up to be less sneaky and more upfront about things with Wayne, but he knew his nephew still held things back from him. He wasn’t the kid’s dad, but he’d earned Eddie’s trust enough that he would come to him when he was ready to share.

So when after March break of 1986, one Steve Harrington started coming around the trailer, Wayne kept his mouth shut and let the boys be.

The thing is, Wayne always knew Eddie marched to the beat of his own drum, with everything, including who he liked. He’d never formally come out to him, or talked to him about anything regarding romance or sex, but Wayne figured that maybe he was a late bloomer or something. Easier for him, he’d never even thought about the fated “birds and the bees” conversation with Eddie until he found a glossy worn skin mag wedged between his mattress and box spring when he was seventeen. It didn’t bother Wayne, what other people did with their partners was none of his business; but he knew if Eddie did like fellas instead of ladies, he’d have an even harder time being out in the world then he already did.

Regardless, Wayne never told Eddie what he’d found, he just kept a close eye on his boy, and knew that when he was ready, he’d talk to his dear old uncle.

Of course, that was before the Harrington boy started coming over at all hours of the night.

Steve was a nice kid, nothing like his asshole of a father. The first time he’d met Wayne all those months ago in the hospital, he looked exhausted, a little beat up, and sitting by his boy’s bedside. 

“You must be Wayne.” He said, getting up and offering the seat beside Eddie’s bed to him. “I would say Eddie has told me so much about you but…”

“It’s okay, kid.” Wayne told him, hearing the subtle bits of anxiety colour his tone. “You’re the Harrington boy, aren’t you?”

He stuck out his hand for Wayne to shake. “Steve, sir. I haven’t known Eddie long, but I know the kids worship him, and he’s like an older brother to them. I—I’m grateful they have him at school looking after them even though…” Steve went quiet, an apologetic look on his face.

“Super senior, yeah I know. He’s 20 and still in high school.” Wayne let out a gruff chuckle.

“We’re gonna help him graduate, I promise. He saved us, nearly died for Dustin.”

The older man nodded. “He’s a good kid, nothing like… nothing like what they’ve been sayin’ about him on the news—” The words got caught in his throat, and he felt Steve lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I know.” 

From that point on, Wayne knew he was gonna like Steve, and he knew he’d become a permanent fixture in Eddie’s life. He was happy to have the boy around, someone to talk sports with, someone who had fresh baked muffins ready for when Wayne got home after his overnight shifts, someone who made Eddie smile. 

He’d never seen his boy this happy around anyone. When Eddie was with Steve, he seemed freer than he’d ever been, and Wayne felt in his heart that this was Eddie’s first real crush. It broke his heart to think that his kid was falling for someone like Steve Harrington, someone who would grow up to marry a nice girl and have the standard 2 kids and a dog, but he knew that Eddie was resilient, and he’d eventually get over Steve and move on. Wayne had trusted Steve would be nice about the whole thing, let Eddie down gently, give him his space to grieve what could have been, but all those thoughts came crashing down one morning when he saw none other than Steve Harrington stumbling out of Eddie’s room to the bathroom clad only in his boxers, rubbing sleep from his eye.

Wayne glanced up at the boy curiously. He didn’t seem to see the older man in the kitchen as he closed the door, and Wayne didn’t know if he was intentionally avoiding him, or if he genuinely didn’t see him.

Huh. That was new.

Steve had slept over before, usually when his house felt too big for one person and he needed something other than the radio silence of Loch Nora to clear his mind, but he usually took the couch. 

Maybe they’d gotten a little too high and he stayed with Eddie he thought, trying to find any excuse he could as to why Steve Harrington was undressed and sleepy in his nephew’s bedroom. He brushed off the occurrence, thinking nothing of it, until it happened again.

“Morning Wayne.” Steve had called this time, passing him one morning as he was just getting in from work. This time he’d been wearing his boxers and an old Iron Maiden t-shirt of Eddie’s.

“Mornin’ Steve.” He grumbled, making his way into his bedroom. 

The man racked his brain, trying to think of every possible scenario of why the kid was in bed with Eddie. Had something happened between them? Wayne thought it was unlikely. They acted the same way they normally did everywhere else; sure, Eddie could be a bit too much like an octopus at times all gangly giving hugs freely, but that’s just how he was, that didn’t mean he and Steve were dating or anything. Could it? 

It wasn’t until the third time it happened that Wayne accepted his nephew, Eddie Munson, was dating Steve Harrington.

In a way, Wayne felt a little giddy at the thought. Steve was a great kid, everything he could ever dream of in a son-in-law. He was polite, held shared interests with Wayne, and he made Eddie happy. The boy was a real catch! But that giddiness dissipated as he thought of the disease going around among those young boys… A cold chill ran through him as he remembered Eddie barely conscious for days on end in a hospital bed. He never wanted to see his boy like that; he didn’t want to pry, but maybe at 21 it was time to give him the talk.

Wayne had had enough uncomfortable conversations in his lifetime, but he knew this one was bound to be one for the books. Eddie could be squeamish, he ran away from the things he didn’t feel prepared to face, and Wayne felt that this was something he was not at all prepared for. Needless to say, this ambush needed something to soften the blow.

On his way home from work, he’d stopped off at Melvald’s, and then by the local coffee shop to pick up two steaming cups of coffee and half a dozen freshly glazed donuts. Eddie’s favourite. When he got home, Eddie was already awake, and Steve was once again in Wayne’s kitchen.

Today, the scene was a lot different than it normally was. Eddie sat on the kitchen counter, something Wayne had asked him countless times not to do, and Steve, clad in his Family Video vest, was at the stove frying up bacon and eggs. The two were so wrapped up in their conversation they didn’t even notice Wayne was home until he greeted them with a gruff “Mornin’ boys.” 

Eddie’s head snapped forward, meeting his uncle’s eyes as he hopped off the counter. “Morning old man,” he whistled lowly seeing the box of donuts, condensation forming on the clear plastic box from the fresh heat that had risen off them, “you stopped by Lucy’s on the way? Must be a special day!” 

Eddie reached for the box, but his uncle slapped his hand away. “Ah ah, Steve’s puttin’ in the work over there, not until you’ve had a proper breakfast and said a proper thank you to yer boy.” A flash of terror crossed Eddie’s expression and he nervously wrung his rings around his fingers as he went to gather three plates. Steve plated up a fried egg, some bacon, and slices of toast on each plate and helped Eddie carry them to the table. “Sorry Steve, didn’t think you’d be here or I woulda grabbed you a coffee as well.”

Steve shook his head. “No sweat, I’m not much of a coffee drinker anyways, but thank you. I’ll be out of your hair after breakfast.” 

“Don’t rush kid, I’m not kicking you out.”

Steve chuckled, dunking his toast in the runny egg yolk. “Thanks Wayne, I’ve gotta run to work in a bit anyways, this one wanted to sleep in this morning.” He gestured towards Eddie.

Eddie snorted. “Oh so now it’s my fault!”

Wayne shook his head as the two boys bickered, then picked up the plates and set them in the sink when the three were done. He excused himself for a quick shower and let Eddie have his privacy to send Steve off while he collected his thoughts. 

After he was clean and dry and in a pair of cozy flannel pyjama pants and sweatshirt, he pulled Eddie into the living room and finally offered him a donut. Eddie groaned, his mouth full of the sweet pastry, nodding along to an inaudible beat. 

“Eddie… you know I love you, right?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and his head tilted towards his uncle. “Of course. Wayne, you’re like a father to me.” His eyes suddenly widened, and he nearly dropped the donut. “You’re not… you’re not dying are you? Or sick?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No son, no I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure you knew. You can tell me anythin’ Eddie, you know that, right?” 

The boy scoffed. “Yeah, I know, you told me that years ago.”

Wayne nodded along. “Okay, then I hope I’m not overstepping. You’re being careful, right? You and Steve I mean?”

Eddie blinked once. Twice. Three times. “Uhhhh, yeah?” He took a sip of his now cold coffee. “I um, I know you don’t like it when I smoke in the trailer but sometimes with the bugs, and we open the window, but we’re using your ashtray. We won’t accidentally set the trailer on fire if that’s what you mean. And we don’t drive when we’ve been drinking or smoking, we mostly just hang out and listen to music or watch a movie.” 

The older man let out a breathy laugh. “Not what I meant kid. Eddie I—uh you’re twenty-one, and I’m sure you know how this works by now. I’m not naive and I know you aren’t either. And Steve’s a boy, but there’s still risks. I’m sure you’ve seen those boys on the news with what’s been going around, and after last March I don’t want… look, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” 

Wayne finally looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes, filled with total utter confusion. 

He cleared his throat. “You uh, you probably already have… supplies, but just in case I um… here… I stopped in this morning to grab you some uh—protection.” Wayne tossed the paper bag at Eddie, hearing the dull thud of the foil packets inside as he caught them. “I know you can be pretty reckless, but I hope you boys have been using them already. Hawkins High isn’t a world class education but I trust they taught you how to use those things, eh? Or do I need to grab a couple’a bananas?”

Eddie’s face went white as a sheet as he looked into the bag and saw a newly purchased box of condoms.

“Um, Wayne?” His voice crack was masked by the sound of the paper bag crinkling as he folded the top and set it aside. “What exactly do you think I need these for?”

Wayne scoffed. “Come on Eds, I may be old but I’m not stupid. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I’m not blind.” He moved to sit beside Eddie. “I see the way you two look at each other, and I know you kids, uh, share a bed. It’s okay son. Uh, this probably isn’t how uh, how you planned on telling me, but just know that I love you, and uh, and Steve too.”

Eddie swallowed audibly. He’d gone from white to green, suddenly regretting that donut. His hands shook as he pushed his hair back from his face, exhaling heavily.

“You knew?” His voice shook, sounding watery.

Wayne nodded and took his hand. “Yeah kid, I had a feeling, but I didn’t know for sure until the boyfriend started staying over.”

Eddie nodded along, sniffing once, and wiping the stray tears from his eyes. “Okay. Okay. Cool. Okay. Wait, boyfriend?” 

Wayne narrowed his eyes. “Boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever it is you kids are calling it these days.” 

The younger boy laughed high and sharp. “Wayne… Wayne, please never say ‘lover’ like that again, for both our sake. So you think—you thought Steve was my boyfriend?”

This time it was Wayne’s turn to be confused. “Is… um… is he not?” 

“No! Harrington is totally straight. We’re not—”

“Does he know that?” 

“What the— you really are losing your mind in your old age.” He shook his head, hiding his face, his eyes totally unreadable. “Good talk, old man. Thanks for the, um…” He gestured to the bag on the couch. “I don’t have a need for them right now, nor have I ever needed them for the record, I haven’t… um… yeah, that’s enough information for you I think.” 

Wayne chuckled. “Hey kid, no shame in holding out for the right one. And just my two cents, but I think maybe Steve could be the right one.”

“GAH! Okay! Ending this conversation now, go to bed, I’ll see you later, goodbye!” Eddie turned towards his room, but Wayne could see the heavy blush that covered his cheeks and ran down his neck. He was right about one thing at least, his boy was smitten for one Steve Harrington. And Wayne was sure he was right in thinking that Steve may be smitten for Eddie as well.

-------

When Wayne left for work at the end of the day, Eddie knew in his heart he’d be expecting to see Steve there in the morning as he had that day. It had become routine at this point, Wayne would leave, Eddie would call his favourite person, and ten minutes later, Steve would be at his door.

Steve had started coming over to help Eddie with his bandages, and usually ended up crashing on the Munson’s couch. But lately the nightmares had gotten bad for both of them, and they started taking comfort in each other’s touch. In the month they’d been sharing a bed, neither of them had a single nightmare, but they had to be careful. 

Eddie hated sneaking around Wayne. Sure, they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were just sleeping, but it was exhilarating having something that was just for the two of them. Steve had been pretty good about leaving before Wayne was home, but there had been a few times where they’d been caught, this morning in particular being one of them. 

The conversation had been uncomfortable for Wayne, sure, but more so for Eddie knowing that someone else saw what he thought he’d been imagining. He’d tried to push down his crush on Steve Harrington for years, but it only got worse once he got to know him personally. He’d acknowledged his own feelings shortly after Vecna, but lately, he was getting the feeling that maybe Steve could possibly, actually feel the same way too. It was validating, almost vindicating knowing that Wayne thought they were a couple; he’d been going crazy trying to figure out what was going on between himself and Steve, and knowing that someone else saw it felt good. But he could have done without the box of condoms.

The box of condoms Wayne threw haphazardly into his room. The box of condoms currently sitting in the middle of his bed.

Steve flopped himself down onto his side of the bed after changing into pyjamas and poked the bag. “What’s that?”

Eddie sprung to action as he picked up the bag. “Nothing!” He swiped it from Steve’s hands and deposited it on his nightstand. “Nothing, just Wayne being nosy for no reason.”

Steve grinned and tackled Eddie suddenly, throwing his leg over him straddling his hips, and pinning his wrists in one hand as the older boy squirmed below him. 

“Steve! Steve god DAMNIT let me go!” 

“No secrets remember? What weird thing did Wayne go and do now?” 

Eddie’s heart dropped as he plead with his friend. “Dude, dude let me go, seriously, it’s embarrassing.” 

Steve looked down at Eddie, his smile fading. He climbed off his lap and back into his usual spot. “Sorry man, I didn’t—”

“No, no it’s fine, it’s stupid.” He sighed. “It’s really stupid. God I don’t even know why I’m—it’s just a box of condoms.” 

Steve tensed. “O-oh. Got a hot date or something coming up Munson?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The pull out method doesn’t always work, trust me, the pregnancy scare is not worth—”

“Steve I’m gay.” 

“O-okay.” 

Eddie sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He bought me the condoms because he thought you and I… well he… look I’m sorry, okay? I told him we weren’t, I set the record straight, heh, about you anyways, he knows about me now.” 

The other boy cocked his head to the side. “He thought… what he thought we were together?” 

Eddie moved a strand of hair in front of his mouth, unable to meet Steve’s eyes, and nodded. ���Sorry man, I don’t know where he got that idea. You don’t have to stay if you’re—I’ll be alright on my own for a bit if it’s too weird or whatever.” 

“Eddie… Eds…” Steve shifted closer. “Do you want that?” 

He scoffed. “I’ve slept better in the last month than I have in the last year, of course I don’t want you to leave.” 

Steve shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. No, do you want what Wayne thought to be true?”

Eddie couldn’t answer Steve, and somehow that felt more damning to him than if he’d just said yes. 

“Eddie?”

“I’m sorry Steve, if you don’t want to see me anymore, just tell me okay? I’m not… just don’t tell anyone, please.” 

Steve took his hand. “Wayne really thought we were together?” 

“Dude—”

“Shit, guess Robin was right, I am really obvious.” 

“What—?”

Steve chuckled. “Eds, dude,” he chuckled, “sweetheart, I want that too.” 

Eddie’s jaw dropped as he slowly turned to meet Steve’s eyes. Steve met his glance with a sheepish shrug, his thumb now rubbing circles on the back of Eddie’s hand.

“Did… did you just call me dude? In the middle of your big romantic confession?” Eddie’s face cracked into a smile.

“I—” He scoffed, his chin meeting his chest as he hung his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here man, you’re the first guy I’ve been into, and the Harrington charm hasn’t exactly been working on you.”

“Oh, OH it’s working for me, let me tell you that. You’ve got no problems there.”

Steve chuckled and fell forward, his forehead resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie untangled their hands and draped his arm around Steve, tugging him closer until he felt his short breaths on his neck.

“So… so you really like me?”

“I thought I made that abundantly clear when I practically begged to share your bed.” 

Eddie frowned. “I thought that was just for the nightmares?”

“It was, a bit, but I also wanted you close. I figured maybe I’d sort my shit out and stop thinking of you like… like I normally think of girls if we had an old fashioned sleep over.”

“And did it help?”

Steve looked up at Eddie deadpan. “Clearly it didn’t.”

Eddie threw his head back in a chuckle, hitting the wall with a loud thump. “Fuck.”

The other boy jumped to action, bringing Eddie’s head off the wall, carding his fingers through his hair to check for a bump as he winced.

“Heh, that feels kinda nice Stevie.” 

Steve smiled, settling his hand on Eddie’s neck satisfied with his findings. “Oh yeah? You like having your hair played with?”

“S’all new to me, I don’t know what I like. Never even kissed a boy.” He looked down at Steve's lips.

“You know, funny you say that, because neither have I.” Steve smirked, looking up at Eddie through his lashes the way he knew drove Nancy crazy. He leaned in, eyes flicking between Eddie’s lips and eyes, until their noses almost brushed.

Eddie blinked, worrying his lip between his teeth, feeling Steve’s hot breath hit his face. “Stevie, are you sure?”

His thumb brushed a soft path along Eddie’s cheekbone, and he swallowed. “I’ve never been more sure about anything, Eds.”

Eddie’s nose clumsily brushed Steve’s, his eyes slid closed, and moments later, their lips brushed in a chaste kiss. He shuddered out a breath and smiled, going in for another as he felt his heart pound in his chest. 

He knew Steve had a lot more experience than he did, but Steve was happy to let Eddie take the lead until he got his bearings. His chaste brushes of lips turned into slotting their lips together, panting hard, and eventually, when Steve couldn’t take it and just needed more, he slid his tongue against Eddie’s top lip.

Eddie felt like he was soaring. No amount of drugs could top the high he felt kissing Steve, and it only got better once Steve met his enthusiasm. Their tongues met, and Eddie’s breath got caught in his throat, a shiver rolled down his spine, and he sighed happily. 

Steve pulled away first, pecking Eddie on the lips once, twice, then slotted their lips together again, guiding him backwards until his head hit the pillows.

-------

The trailer was quiet when Wayne got home that morning. He spotted Steve’s shoes by the front door and smiled knowingly. 

He padded through the trailer noting gratefully that Steve had made fresh banana bread the night before, and took a slice on a paper towel, breaking off pieces and groaning quietly in pleasure as he ate it. 

Something was different about that morning, it was in the air of the trailer, too still, to calm, but still electric, and Wayne noted that Eddie’s bedroom door was cracked open. He poked his head in, not wanting to disturb the boys’ sleep, but the sight before him had the man giggling like a school girl.

Eddie and Steve laid tangled together in the sheets, chests bare as they snored lightly. Lying on the bottom corner of the bed was a crumpled up foil packet, the corner torn open and empty. The box of condoms Wayne had given Eddie the night before lay open on his beside table.

“Fuckin’ knew it.” 

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #wayne munson centric #stranger things fic #my writing #steddie fic

[shadowbriar]

George Weasley - Delicate

Pairing : (F/M) || George Weasley x Reader Word Count : 4.1k Warning : Heavy angst as requested. Notes : I got a little bit carried away with this one.

Their laughter echoes within the walls of the Common Room. Her face was burning, both from fluster and the fatigued muscles of her face from the non stop smile. She was sitting the furthest from the fireplace yet she could’ve sworn that her skin was flaming in fire. Her eyes are glued on him, watching every gesture, every breathy laughter and every cheers he made. He was the centre of her life, the very source of her drive.

But she supposed, so is the whole castle.

She’s reminded every other time they have a conversation that she’s merely one from his long list of admirers. Being the calmer twin only meant that it was easier for girls to approach him. Girls would come at him, giving him love letters and other trinkets in hope to catch just a glimpse of his attention. And every single time, she has to pretend that the gesture didn’t bother her because what exactly could she do? It isn’t like she has a chance with him in the first place.

George Fabian Weasley was the definition of perfection. At least, in her dictionary. He was smart, within and outside of academic achievements. He knew exactly how to brighten the room, which jokes to crack and what prank to do to lift the mood. He was kind and affectionate. Everything a girl could dream of their knight in shining armour would be.

“Have you heard?” Some girl from her left whispered to another yet loud enough for her to hear “Fred Weasley has asked someone to be his date, meaning only George’s still up on the market.”

“Really? Who’s he going with?”

“Angelina!” The other girl answers “It’s no surprise really, seeing how close they are from quidditch practices.”

“I suppose so. Do you think George would ask someone from the quidditch team too, then? Alicia perhaps?”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if he does. They’re like honey and bees, especially lately. I think they might’ve been an item already.”

She chews on her lower lip, trying to maintain the calm composure she’s losing through her fingertips. She too has noticed the not so subtle closeness George and Alicia have these days. He’s spent more time taking care of the quidditch equipment with her, coming to the Great Hall together for meals, and doing his paperworks together. All the mentioned activities, aside from quidditch practice, were normally done with her, not Alicia. To say that she felt replaced would be an understatement.

But she knew deep down that she has no right to ever feel disappointed and hurt. George was never hers to begin with. The sense of belonging was only felt one sided, never reciprocated by the other end. She was the only one holding onto every little mundane thing they shared as if they were her life milestones.

“Neville asked me to be his date.” Ginny says, whispering excitedly as she squeezes in to sit next to her.

She flashes a smile, squeezing Ginny’s arm in a warm response, “That’s brilliant, Ginny!”

“Mhm,” Ginny nods eagerly “Have you found a decent date yet?”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure that I’ll be going.” She says with a soft laughter “Balls and dances are not my thing.”

“What are you talking about, balls and dances are every girls’ thing!”

She smiles, averting her eyes back to the pranksters who are still cracking their jokes.

Ginny’s right, balls and dances are every girls’ thing. A huge part of her was screaming and hoping that she could go to the ball with her charming prince, spending the night as they waltzed to some romantic song, being completely intoxicated with each other’s presence. But the thought feels like nothing but a mere dream now that she uses her head more than her heart. Exactly how long would she entertain herself with the blissful fake scenarios where her love was reciprocated? 

“It would be a fun night, don’t you think?” Ginny asks, still persuading her “Imagine how beautiful the Great Hall would be, the music, the food, everything! And we get to dress up! Out of these insipid robes for once.”

“I suppose.”

“What is making you so uninterested?” Ginny asks with raised brows “If you can’t find a bloke worthy enough, I can ask one of my brothers to escort you. I’m sure one of them would be delighted to be your date.”

“No, please don’t.” She says fast, afraid the younger Weasley would pursue her wild idea. With Fred escorting Angelina and Ron who seems to be so determined to ask one of the Beauxbatons, George would be the only brother left for Ginny to ask the favour and although it would’ve been nice to have George asked her for the ball, being asked merely out of pity would be the one embarrassment she could not live with.

“You’re right. None of my brothers are deserving enough to escort you.” Ginny says as she watches the twins fuse a firecracker “You know what, the ball is still weeks away. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

She remains quiet, only replying to the redhead girl with a small smile.

She knew that the possibility of her being escorted by George to the ball was slim to none. The distance that’s slowly growing between them is becoming a hurtful thorn that’s piercing deeper into her heart each day. From day one she knew that there would be no chance of him ever returning her feelings. Why should he when he could choose literally any other girl?

—-

Her mind was loud. The ball is approaching close and there’s still no news of George having a date just yet. It was as if she was stuck in a labyrinth, every step she took led to another door that just further fuelled her insecurity. Perhaps George has asked someone in private, unlike his twin brother who asked Angelina in public. George has always been the more reserved twin after all.

But wouldn’t he want to share the happy news if he indeed does have a date? She knew that their friendship had been strained for the past few months, but something as special as a Yule Ball date would surely be something he’d want to share with her. She’s been his best secret keeper after all.

Understanding that slumber wouldn’t be her friend tonight, she peels herself off of her blanket and walks outside of the room. Perhaps she could ask the house elves a tiny favour of hot milk and biscuits to help. Or maybe a late night stroll would make her tired enough to fall asleep. Either of which seems like a better idea than to ponder herself with these unanswered questions.

Walking down the staircase, she could hear faint noise of music from the Common Room. Laughter was heard louder as she descended closer. There were two people, a boy and a girl’s voice echoing through the walls. One’s voice she would recognise anywhere anytime.

“Alright, I think that’s enough practice for the night.” The boy says with slight pants “I think tomorrow I’ll ask- Hey, you.”

She was frozen on her spot. The sight she’s just witnessed would be the bane of her nightmares to follow. There they were, her hands resting casually on his shoulders, big happy grins plastered on their faces. The very position she wishes she could be with him. Close and intimate.

“George, Alicia,” She says softly, forcing a smile and fighting the tears welling up her eyes “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not interrupting anything. We’re about to get to bed, too.” Alicia answers with a warm smile “Where are you heading?”

“Kitchen.” She says short “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, can I join you?” George asks, a warm smile evident on his face “I could use a glass of milk too.”

She stares at George’s innocent eyes with defeat, thankful of the limited light showering them both so he wouldn’t see the disappointment and sadness she’s feeling. How could he stand there and still look as beautiful and charming as he always had when he’s just broken her heart into pieces?

“No, actually I’d rather you not, George.” She says softly, not being able to look at his face a second longer “I need some space and time alone with my thoughts.”

Without waiting for his response, she walks out of the Common Room in a haste. Her tears were flowing just when she reached the staircase, unable to hold them any longer. Her nightmare has happened. Every bad scenario she tried so hard to push out of her head has finally come true. 

George Weasley has a date for the Yule Ball.

—-

The following days have been hell. Hours spent detached to reality while nights would be filled with her silent cries. She has emptied her bottle of non-puffy potion to help ease her swollen eyes, but it was to no avail. Her sadness is bleeding out of her.

She’s tried her best to avoid George. Exchanging her seat in every class they shared and would leave before George could reach her. She doesn’t even take her meals on her usual spot at their table anymore. She reckons that her spot has been long occupied by another now that he’s got a new bird to entertain.

She knew that from the beginning she stood no chance to be with him. She knew that she was just another background girl in his bright and daring life, praying that with whatever miracle there is he would spare just a glance and wave her a smile. Yet with all this knowledge and understanding, why does it still hurt? Why does it still torment her everytime the memory of him and Alicia plays in her mind?

“Love, wait!” George calls, running and barely able to catch her as he pulls her hand “Blimey, do I have a stench or something? You’ve been avoiding me like I was the plague!”

“I’m busy, George.” She says, prying her hand off of him “Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“Not so fast.” He says, stopping her by placing a hand in front of her “I just need a minute of your time, please. It won’t be long. There’s something rather urgent I need to speak to you about.”

She wanted to flee from him. Run as fast as her legs could carry her and go back to her room, hide under her blanket and wait until the weeks passed. She’s demented enough, couldn’t he tell? What could he possibly want to talk to her now that he’s got Alicia? Couldn’t he just leave her be?

“Please,” George begs once more “I’m only asking for a minute of your time.”

Looking at his pleading eyes, she finally gave in and gave a slight nod.

He grins in victory, clapping his hand, “Right, so uh- Godric, I don’t know where to start.”

She stares at his eyes. A sense of nervousness was evident from his face. George rubs his palms to his trousers, trying to maintain his cool composure though it’s clear that he’s losing it. She wonders if these jolts were caused by his excitement for sharing the big news with her. A little bit overdue, sure, but it’s not like she’s given him the chance to tell her that he’s seeing Alicia.

“I have something to ask you.” He starts, a nervous smile decorating his face “It’s, uh, it’s about girls.”

She takes a sharp breath, “Right.”

“I, uh, I have a bit of trouble on said topic.” He continues, beating around the bushes to find the right words to say “You know how the Yule Ball is coming, right? And I, uh, there’s this girl that I wanted to ask to be my date. I know that time’s wearing thin and I should’ve asked her the first time the ball was announced but I just couldn’t muster the courage to ask her, you know? I don’t want to come as too strong or anything, she’s a rather special girl.”

She grips her robe tighter, trying to keep her emotions packed. She couldn’t break down in front of him, not when he looks like he’s flustered and in need of a friend to talk to.

“She’s a close friend of mine.” George says, smiling as he begins to describe her “She’s brilliant, to say the least. I just- I can’t find the words to describe her but take it from me, she’s the most brilliant girl there is.”

She says softly, forcing a smile, “You seem to be so fond of her.”

Fighting her tears, she wasn’t sure why George hadn't mentioned Alicia’s name once when she had already caught them red handed the other night. It wasn't exactly a secret for her anymore, so why not just say her name instead of describing how wonderful she is? Doesn’t he know that it’s hurting her?

“I am.” He nods, looking completely intoxicated with admiration “I’m head over heels for her.”

“What exactly is your problem with her then?” She says, sounding a little bit more rude than she expected to but she clearly couldn’t stand another second hearing him swooning over Alicia “You said you two are close.”

“I- Well,” George stutters, completely caught off guard from her irritated tone “I suppose, I wanted to ask for your opinion. If you were in her shoes, how would you like me to ask you for the ball?”

She lets out a scoff. Is this boy for real now? Asking how she would like him to ask her for the ball? Isn’t that just plain cruel?

“What do you want, George?” She asks with more annoyance in her tone “Why are you asking me this? I mean haven’t you been occupied with Alicia lately? Shouldn’t you ask for her opinion or approval instead?”

“I- Well, I have asked Alicia actually but she said I should ask you.”

“Oh, so you’re here because your plan with Alicia didn’t go well? Is that what this is?” She argues, anger and hurt clouding her mind “Is that really all that I am to you? A back up plan? Someone you go to when things aren’t going well with your bird?”

George raises an eyebrow, looking bewildered, “Love, what- I just- What are you talking about?”

“Look, George, I really don’t have time for this.” She says fast before letting herself get even more angry “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with Alicia, but frankly speaking you have tons of other girls you can ask with so just pick one and be done with it.”

Before George could utter another word, she left him in a hurry. She takes big angry steps away from the redhead boy, praying that her leg could carry her as furthest as it could. The puppy pleading eyes of his would haunt her. She knew that she’s being an arse for spitting him right on the face where he clearly needs someone to talk to, but she couldn't let herself drown even deeper. She couldn’t let him drag her further to the pit of despair. He’s hurt her just enough.

—-

The dreadful night finally comes. In contrast to the happy and excited looks of her friends, she drank the glass of non-alcoholic drink with a frown. If it wasn’t for Ginny dragging her by the neck, she wouldn’t have stepped a foot to the Great Hall tonight.

Taking the empty seat beside her, Ron let out a huff of annoyance. His shoulders were dropped, hair dishevelled and face red in embarrassment. His date was nowhere to be seen, that is if he’s got one in the first place. The dress robe he’s wearing and the long face he’s showing is making it hard for her to tell.

“You having fun?”

Ron rolled his eyes, “The best night of my life.”

“Mine too.” She sighs “I just want to hex myself to death, you know?”

Taking a look at the room, her eyes stopped at the sight of George, talking casually with his date in the corner of the room. Things worked out in the end, she reckons. They’ve finally sorted their problem and he finally got Alicia as his date. She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved that he’s finally got to go with her, the girl he so much praised about, or should she hate him even more for rubbing his happiness on her face.

“Where’s your date?”

She shrugs, “I don’t have one.”

“Bullshit.” Ron chuckles yet stops right away as he notices her seriousness “You haven’t got a date?”

Once again, she shrugs.

“But why don’t you? I thought you already had someone, that's why you rejected my brother.”

“Your brother?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “What are you talking about?”

“Well, George’s been saying that he’s going to ask you to be his date since the ball was announced, but a couple days ago he said he’s going with Alicia instead, so I figured you must’ve had a date already.” Ron confesses, face full of confusion “He even asked her to teach him the dance so he won’t make a fool of himself in front of you, you know.”

She closes her eyes as her brain tries to digest the new information. She facepalms herself, realising the grave mistake she’s made for giving in to the bad scenarios she over-thinks about. She should’ve let George finish his words that day. She should’ve waited for him a little longer. She should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt and let him explain himself. All these disastrous nights could’ve been avoided if she had been a little bit more patient with him.

“Merlin, I screwed up everything.” She whispers, turning to Ron “Do you think he’d forgive me? Do you think George would ever forgive me for being such an arse?”

Ron chuckles, “Are you kidding? My brother’s mental about you. You can rip his heart out and stomp it to the ground and he’d still kiss the dirt you stepped on.”

She smiles, cheek tainted in light blush.

“But please don’t tell him I told you that.” Ron said fast, realising the secret he’s spilled “He’ll have my head if he knew I told you about his crush.”

She chuckles and nods.

The night felt lighter with Ron to accompany her. That or the fact that she knew more of George’s feelings about her. Perhaps she’s placed too much attention to his surroundings to ever realise where his eyes are actually at. The girls fighting over his affection had blinded her from the fact that she was the only one he ever wanted to impress. She was the only one he wanted to be with.

“Evening, you two.” A voice greets, an unsure smile plastered on his face “Lovely ball, isn’t it?”

“Right, that’s my cue.” Ron says in a low volume, loud enough for her to hear him before standing up and leaving “She’s all yours, George.”

George squinted his eyes, eyeing his younger brother with a suspicious look but chose to say nothing. He turned to see her, smiling and taking the spot Ron left, “You look lovely tonight.”

“As do you.” She says with a smile “Much more handsome than usual.”

A hint of blush appears on his face. 

George chews on his lower lip, looking as if there’s something fighting its way out of his lips. The palm of his hands were getting clammier, his heart was beating at an alarmingly fast rate. He’s been trying to find the words to apologise to her from their misunderstanding yet now he seems to have lost every word he’s ever known. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t sure what he should be apologising for, but remembering her reaction the other day, he knew that he made a mistake and whatever it was he’s desperate to fix it.

“Do you want to dance?” She asks, breaking his internal argument to stop “I mean, if Alicia’s fine with that of course.”

He blinks, stuttering, “Of course, yeah, sure! She’s fine with it, she couldn’t care less.”

With a satisfied grin, George stood up and held his hand out. She gladly accepts it, letting him lead the way to the dance floor. The music has come to the calmer side now that people begin to leave the Great Hall. It’s beginning to be late after all.

She places her hands on his shoulders as he rests his on her waist. Both were looking visibly nervous, afraid that they would make the wrong move and step on the other’s foot. Neither would mind if such a thing happened, to be truthfully honest. The world could burn and crumble right on this very second and they wouldn’t even notice as they drown themselves in each other’s gazes.

“I, uh,” George stammers, shoulders slightly shaking from the nerve wrecking havoc inside him “I want to apologise for the other day. I don’t know what happened but I figured you’re right, I’ve kind of been too occupied with Alicia lately. I’m sorry for that.”

She shakes her head, “No, don’t be. I was being unreasonable and dumped you my frustration when you were innocent all along. I should be the one apologising, George. I’m really sorry.”

“What were you stressing about?” He asks softly “Mind sharing them with me?”

“It’s silly, really.”

“Nothing’s ever silly about you.” He cuts in, eyes still glued on her “If it’s bothering you that much then it must be something serious.”

She shows a small smile, contemplating if she should be blunt and speak her mind, “I’ve been feeling more insecure lately. I feel like I’m not good enough for someone, like I’m just someone easily disposed of and replaced with.”

“Someone?” He asks, eyes softening and looking guilty “Please don’t say that I’m the culprit.”

She remains quiet.

“Oh, Love.” George sighs, understanding her silence “I’m really sorry. I never meant for you to think that I’ve replaced you, I never intended to. You’re someone I could never replace, believe me. Nothing’s happening with Alicia and me, she was just being a friend, I promise.”

George continues with his long apologise yet she couldn’t process any of his words. Her eyes were locked on his lips, wondering how blissful it would be to kiss them. Her heart was beating fast, she could only pray that he wouldn’t hear its loud thumps. Her skin was hot, an unfamiliar tension building inside her.

“I like you.”

George was stunned. He looked at her with widened eyes. The confession caught him off guard, causing his brain to completely shut down.

“I like you, George Weasley.” She confesses once more, this time with a tone more firm and assured than before “And I’m really sorry that my feelings only caused us to fight. I just- I’ve seen the girls who've tried to approach you. I’ve seen how much prettier, smarter, and better they are than me and I just- I couldn’t help but to feel inferior than them.”

He remains quiet, listening to each of her words with full attention.

“You could pick any girl in this castle, George. You have a long list of admirers and I just-” She paused, smiling pitifully to herself “The thought of you ever reciprocating my feelings is just too good to be true.”

George’s hands moved to cupped her cheeks. He caresses her cheek gently, staring at her with a smile, “Can I kiss you?”

She nods lightly, showing a faint smile.

With a warm smile, George leans in. The kiss was gentle, as if he feared she would pull away anytime. His hands never left her cheeks, gently rubbing her skin as if she was the most precious thing he’s ever held. He’s holding her ever so tenderly, making her feel like she was the most delicate thing he’s ever laid fingers on.

“I’m sorry that you ever feel that way, Love.” George whispers as they pull away, his eyes never leaving hers “For what it’s worth, there’s never been anyone more important to me than you. You’re the only one I have eyes for and I’m sorry for not making it clear before, but if you’ll have me, I promise I’ll spend each day proving that you’re the one best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You’re going to lose your admirers.” She says, smiling from his lovely confession.

“Fred can have them.” He says, rolling his eyes “I’m sure he’ll be more than delighted.”

She chuckles.

“So, is that a yes?”

She makes a thinking face, teasing the boy, “Maybe I could use one more kiss. To make myself sure and all, you know.”

“Just one?” George questions, chuckling “Here I am willing to kiss you all night.”

“Shut up and just kiss me already.”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley scenario #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #george weasley oneshot #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x oc

[anthurak]

Since Mammon’s Magnificent Musical Midseason Special released, I’ve been seeing a lot of people make a point about how Mammon is so different from Asmodeus and Beelzebub (namely that he’s a selfish, exploitative scumbag while the other two have been overall pretty nice) because ‘Greed’ is some inherently cruel/exploitative/evil quality and that there was no way Mammon could have been ‘good’, or at least ‘nice’ like Ozzie and Bee.

And I can’t help but feel that this take is missing what I think is a subtle but very KEY detail we’ve been seeing about the Sins.

Namely, that the Kings of Sin don’t seem to be bound or otherwise ‘compelled’ to any one specific way of expressing the ‘sin’ they embody.

We got hints of this with Beelzebub in her episode, with how she is both able to tell and is concerned when someone is indulging in gluttony in a harmful manner. But we’ve really seen this disconnect with Asmodeus.

Like it’s been a running gag at this point that Ozzie and Fizz are massive hypocrites for espousing some ‘lovey-dovey bullshit is for bitches and saps’ while actually being completely head-over-heels in love with each other. But let’s actually step back for a minute and consider what it MEANS that this ‘Embodiment of Lust’ CAN be a massive hypocrite about how he expresses his ‘Sin’ in the first place.

It’s clear from all their private scenes together that Ozzie does not struggle at all to express just how deeply he LOVES Fizz. He has no inherent lust-related ‘compulsion’ that he has to somehow ‘fight against’ to express his love for Fizz.

Instead the actual struggle that Ozzie and Fizz face is one of simple personal/social insecurity; feeling afraid to express their love openly around others. And with the whole ‘worst kept secret in Hell’ thing, it’s clear they weren’t even doing a good job at keeping it a secret.

In hindsight, I think we can guess that Asmodeus used to fully believe in what he was spouting in his debut episode, that lust should be all about pleasure with none of that lovey-dovey bullshit. BUT, then he met Fizzerolli and gradually fell more and more in love himself with the imp. To the point where he’s now had to reframe how he expresses his ‘Sin’, both in private and as of the latest episode publicly as well.

What this means is that there was NOTHING ever forcing Ozzie to express his ‘Sin’ in this specific way. Instead he simply chose to express his sin in this way, based on his personal beliefs about ‘Lust’. Beliefs that he’s clearly reevaluated since meeting and falling in love with Fizz.

And I think we can only assume that the same applies to the OTHER Sins as well. That the way they express their specific sin was never something they were ‘decreed’ or ‘compelled’ to do, but simply a CHOICE they made.

Which means that Mammon being some petty, skeevy, exploitative asshole ISN’T some grand ‘Embodiment of Greed’ thing, but rather simply a MAMMON thing. A choice he made likely based on simply his own personal hangups and insecurities.

I think the more we learn about the Sins, we’re going to learn that they are defined NOT by what ‘Sin’ they embody or any nebulous inherent ‘quality’ that their Sin might represent, but rather defined simply by their own personal experiences, struggles, triumphs and failures just like everyone else.

#helluva boss #helluva boss analysis #mammon #helluva mammon #asmodeus #helluva asmodeus #beelzebub #helluva beelzebub #analyzing the helluva sins #mammon isn't some grand ultimate evil #he's just an asshole #the lords of hell are celebrities #and their 'sins' are their branding

[forever-rogue]

Hi bee, how are you? hope you're having a great week ❤

I was thinking about a Joel fic, they're in Jackson and reader lives in the house next to Joel's, they become friends and are feelings in between but they're to stubborn to confess.

Ellie is kinda dude just tell her and finally he does it with some dinner in his house or something like that.

Thank you, your fics are amazing 🥰

AN | I love this so much! Joel being soft for his girl has me so <3

Combined with this prompt | Can I please request something with Joel where he’s like cold in front of others but he’s so soft with his girl. And Ellie absolutely teases him for it. 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Sexual Situations 

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You're soft, you know," Joel stiffened at the sound of Ellie's comment. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, but decided not to indulge her. Not yet anyway, "for her."

"Ellie," his voice was careful, collected. So much for being any sort of subtle.

"I'm just saying," she holds up her hands innocently, playing as best as she could into her innocent child role, "and everybody knows."

“Nobody knows anything,” he insisted with a gentle, playful little tap to the side of her cheek, “y’all are always so nosey with everyone else’s business, makes me wonder what any of you ever get done.”

“Hey, I’m a kid, I’m not supposed to do anything,” she stuck her tongue but Joel’s hands settled on his hips as he gave her that look, “fine, I do some things.”

“Some things,” he twanged back at her, “like your chores, right? Which you should be doing right now, not harassing me, so get going.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she groaned, throwing her arms up in the arm, “and blind! Dude, just tell her!”

“Ain’t nothing to tell!” he called after her as she threw up her middle finger. If she would have looked back she would have seen the wicked, rosy blush that was covering his cheeks. His face felt warm enough to fry an egg on. 

He wondered if people were really that perceptive or if just she was. He hated the idea that he was being so obvious. It wasn’t that he wasn’t into you, oh no. Joel Miller was into you; the whole picturing a future together, picturing you in his bed when he was alone at night, growing old(er) with you, type of into you. 

He just had no clue if you felt the same. Even remotely so. And he wasn’t about to make a fuckin’ fool out of myself by making a move and potentially being wrong. The thing he hated most of all was the idea of a life without you. He’d rather keep you as a friend than lose you altogether. 

Joel huffed at him, feeling pathetic with how lovesick he sounded. He wasn’t some sort of teenage boy, he was a grown ass man.

“Hey cowboy,” okay. He was a pathetic lovesick grown ass man, “whatcha up to?”

“Nothing,” fucking hell. Joel’s voice pitched up about three octaves as he glanced over at you, standing in the backyard like a vision. He never knew he loved sundresses so much; not until the weather grew warm and you started wearing them. You and those pretty little dresses were going to be the death of him, “just working on a few things around the house.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you walked over, ghosting your fingers along the flowers that had started growing, “need a hand? I’m done with the things I needed to do today. The rest are a problem for future me.”

“I like your thinking,” he agreed, setting down the hammer he’d absentmindedly picked up to look like he was doing something, “let’s call it a day.”

“Want to head to the river?” Your suggestion was followed by a sugary sweet smile that made him want to take you in his arms and kiss you, “we can bring some lunch and have a little picnic.”

He wanted to have a little more than lunch. But that was a conversation for a different day.

“Sure,” he agreed, a vain attempt at nonchalance, but if you noticed, you didn’t give it away, “let me just get out of these dirty clothes first.”

“Need a hand with that?” you teased, feeling emboldened for whatever reason. The surprised look on his face as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water was worth it, “I’m just teasing, Joel. No need to look so panicked. You change and I’ll get some lunch together. Do you think Ellie would like to come?”

“No!” he insisted quickly before realizing his gaff. You raised an eyebrow but remained silent, “she’s busy with her chores this afternoon. Kid’s gotta earn her keep, you know?”

“Mhmm,” you reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “well, just meet me at mine when you’re done. Door will be unlocked as always.”

Joel watched wordlessly as you flounced away, skirt swishing and hips swaying. He was pretty sure he was almost drooling, but caught himself before anyone around seemed to notice. You were trouble; you were absolutely going to cause him to lose it. 

And god, he was so here for it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You looked nervously around the kitchen, trying to figure out what you could throw together for a little picnic. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead - you hadn’t really expected him to say yes. Not that Joel had ever said no to you but still…one never knew. Maybe the dress was helping; you’d worn it purposely after all. Men practically became putty when they saw a woman in a sundress.

“Fuck,” you sighed to yourself, already mentally prepping the food as you grabbed the picnic basket out of the cupboard. You sang to yourself, “don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck this upppppp.”

You kept singing that mantra to yourself as you bounced around the kitchen and managed to whip up a lunch that wasn’t too shabby at all. By the time Joel made his way over to yours, you were flushed and breathless. His handsome face and lovely smile were almost too much for you. You felt like a victorian maiden in the presence of a man alone for the time.

Yikes. You really needed to get laid. Preferably by Joel, but that was a worry for another day.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that?” you could have sworn there was a knowing little smile on his face. 

“Nothing,”you. You weren’t about to just freely admit that yet, “just excited to get to spend some time in the sunshine with my best guy.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take his reaction, be it good or bad. 

“Come on,” he reached for the basket before you could even think about reaching for it, “let’s get going then, sweetheart.”

You warmed up under his saccharine gaze but let him take the basket nonetheless and followed after him. 

As the two of you walked towards the lake, on the outskirts of the ever expanding Jackson, a few people here and there stopped to say hello and, you know, do the whole chit-chat thing. You loved talking to people and totally soaked it up…meanwhile Joel was a totally different story. He didn’t dislike people, not unless they gave him a reason to, but he wasn’t a big talker or mingler.

You wouldn’t say he was cold to others (Ellie totally would), but he was absolutely soft for you. Even if you didn’t know it, you had that man wrapped around your finger. 

While he vehemently tried to avoid being stopped by anyone else, you looped your arm through his…and almost killed him in the process. You smelled sweet, not cloying so, but just right and your skin was dangerously soft. He should have gotten an award or something for how much self control he managed to exercise around you. 

Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the internal struggle he was currently experiencing, instead talking his ear off about something Gemma had said to Ben but then did with Kerrie. He wasn’t sure, he was only half listening, way too distracted by you.

When you got to the lake, you slipped your hand into the basket and pulled out the soft blanket that you’d had enough forethrough to bring. You tossed it under the shade from one of the trees so neither of you would get too hot from the direct sunlight. You sat down and patted the space next to you, watching as he set the basket down, his brows knitted together in what appeared to be deep thought.

It wasn’t all that deep; he was trying not to stare at your breasts or how good they looked in that dress, or how your legs looked particularly enticing. If you were to sum it all up, he was basically trying not to be a pubescent boy and pop a boner at the sight of you. 

Grown man he repeated to himself, you are a grown man.

“I don’t bite,” was it on purpose? Maybe, maybe not. But you liked the look of pure panic that his face morphed into, “unless you want me to.”

“Sweetheart-”

“C’mon,” you cut him off, enjoying this a little too much, “pull out some sandwiches because I’m starving!”

So was he. Just not for food. Well - you and food if he was being honest.

When he froze, you reached over him and pulled out the freshly cut fruit and sandwiches for each of you, handing it to him with an air of innocence. He gratefully accepted your offering, stuffing his face full before he could make too much of a fool of himself. 

And from there, as always, the two of you feel into easy conversation, about life, this, that, and everything in between. You liked that about him - things were always so easy, so right with Joel. In the time since he and Ellie had arrived in Jackson the winter before, Joel Miller had easily become your best friend…and all around favorite person. 

You wanted to tell him, really, but you were terrified of messing things up and losing him. It wasn’t worth the risk. Not yet anyway…and maybe never but yeah. Joel was it for you in so many ways.

"Berries," his smile lit up his entire face, effectively pulling you out of your little fantasy. You nodded as you watched him grab a ripe strawberry and pop into his mouth, "my favorites!"

"I know," ugh. How was this man adorable and dorky on top of everything else? It was unfair, "you told me."

"When? Like once in passing," he raised his eyebrows as you tried to play it off, "you remembered?"

"I remember a lot of things," you whispered, "especially about the people that mean most to me."

Joel was stunned, unable to think of the words to properly convey what he was feeling. He opted for a nod as he leaned against the tree, casting him in a golden, sunny light. 

You grabbed a few berries from the bowl and gave him a wink before lying down on the back, staring at the fluffy white clouds. 

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate the lunch you had packed, growing full and warm.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a while, you came up with a brilliant plan. You sat up and looked around to make sure no one was nearby before standing back up.

"Swim with me," you said suddenly as you grinned at Joel. He remained silent as you started to push up your dress, brown eyes wide and his throat feeling thick. You shucked the dress off and tossed it by him, "Joel?"

"O-okay," he was trying not to lose his control as you stood there in front of him, only a bra and panties. You were so carefree, uninhibited, and wild that it was infectious. You tied up your hair before walking over to the water and motioned for him to hurry up, "are you sure you want to-"

You jumped into the water before he could say anything else, remaining below the water for a few moments to let your body adjust the temperature difference. When your lungs started to burn, you floated back up and broke through the surface. Joel was standing at the edge of the lake, hands on his lips as he watched, a lazy little smile on his face. 

“Water’s perfect,” you drew back your hand and splashed them gently, “come on in!”

You could see his hesitation and shook your head. You swam to the edge and held out your hand to him. He was weighing something in his mind, mulling over his decision before he eventually tugged off his boots and pants, kicked them to the side. It was a moment until he gathered up the courage to pull off his shirt - silly, he would say but you would argue otherwise - but he tossed into the pile of your clothing. 

“Handsome,” you cooed softly as his shoulders relaxed. And he was, you weren’t just trying to make him feel better. You could see the scars and marks littering his body along with the freckles you already planned on connected with your lips, and the muscle under the softness. You loved him - all of him, “alright?”

“Alright,” he agreed before sitting down and dangling his legs in and eventually slipping all the way into the water. You could tell he was up to something but your musing was quickly put to an end when you felt his hands on your hips, causing you to shriek in surprise. You heard him laughing as you pouted at him, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“You are a menace,” you turned around so you were facing him, settling your hands on his shoulders, “you, Joel Miller, are trouble.”

“Yeah?” he was practically vibrating under your touch as you tried to give him a somewhat serious expression. It fell flat, more of a sweet, innocent look, which made his heart even softer than he thought possible, “what about you then? What does that make you?”

“Sweet and innocent,” you grinned softly, “I’m a good girl.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Were you trying to kill him?

“Oh sweetheart,” he tried to keep it from sounding too much like a groan, “you are something else.”

You hummed in content as you closed your eyes and tilted your head towards the sun. You couldn’t have imagined a better day - but there was still one more thing you wanted to know that could make the day even better than anything else, “So, I was talking to Ellie…and she told me something interesting.”

“Ellie says a lot of things.” oh no. His heart was racing so quickly that he was afraid that he was going to pass out, “mostly nonsense.”

“I’m not so sure on that one,” you snorted in amusement, “do you wanna know what she told me?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me regardless of what I say…”

“Of course,” you reached over and stroked his cheek, watching as a boyish grin grew on his face, “she told me that you like me. You know, like me like me.”

“And she said it just like that?” he asked, trying to his cool as you tried to read his expression. 

“She did actually,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “are you gonna tell me if its true or not? Or are ya gonna leave me guessing?”

“Do you really need me to tell you or do you already know the answer?” he was deflecting, trying to make sure he hadn’t read anything wrong.

“I’m pretty sure that you’re hopelessly and madly in love with me,” you were teasing - but only just. You both knew that much, “but a little bit of reassurance doesn’t hurt either.”

“I am,” he confirmed after a few moments of tranquil quietness passed between the two of you. Inside you were practically screaming and bursting with joy. When you didn’t didn’t say anything, he grew worried, “is that…are you…okay? You’re makin’ me nervous sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gave him the most dazzling smile. You paused for a moment before quietly exhaling, “oh! I’m in love with you too. If that wasn’t obvious….I thought it was, but I figured you’d want to hear it too.”

“I did,” he relaxed; every fiber of his being was humming with positive energy. Holy shit. You loved him. You were in love with him, “were you ever going to say anything?”

“Eventually,” you confessed, “but I kind of liked watching you squirm too. You look real cute when you blush, you know.”

“I do not,” he huffed indignantly, “I do not blush.”

“Whatever you say, love,” oh. He liked that sound of that, “are you going to kiss me or?”

“Do you want me to?” his eyes widened, “you want me to kiss you?”

“Very much so,” you agreed, “I would love it if you kissed me…finally.”

“Finally?” he asked, wondering if you’d wanted this for as long and as much as he had. The look on your face said it all.

“Finally.”

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