#rainbow puppies are very cute

[little-pup-pip]

haiuuu !!! could you makes a rainbow neutral puppy board with a deco paci !! if you could add a chewy dog toy too i would luv that uau

- @sillypuppyposts 🦴

Sure!!

#rainbow #and #puppies #I love puppies #i am one after all #rainbow puppies are very cute #anyway i hope you enjoy! #sfw interaction only #moodboard #sfw agere #age regression #agere #sfw littlespace #agere moodboard #babyre #age dreaming #baby regression #could also be #puppy regression #sfw puppyre #petre #pet regression #pup regression

[your-greatest-queen]

I fucking hate assignments that are like "describe your first memory" or "write a short story about your childhood" or "tell me about your goals for the future" etc.

Because for all the kids with childhoods filled with trauma and unpleasant memories and for the ones whose only goals are to get away from their lives, those assignments bring everything to the front of their minds and they have to choose: tell the truth about their trauma or make something up.

Either way it sucks and I just wish assignments that ask kids about their home lives weren't so common.

#start of the 2020/2021 school year they ask what we did over the summer #do I admit that I was working through a new wave of trauma while I packed to move for the eighth time #or do I pretend that we have money and are happy and tell them that I went to my family's cabin at the lake for a few weeks like my friends #describe your first memory they say #okay so do I say my first memory was my parents asking me if I wanted a sibling that later covered my arms and heart with scars #or do I lie and say that my first memory was something cute #like getting a puppy and naming it rainbow #last year I got an assignment that asked me what my hardest struggle had been #my baby brother's suicide attempt was still fresh in my brain from that summer #I didn't remember much of the last two months because I dissociated through them #so obviously I wrote about lgbtq issues because I would rather risk my very catholic teachers hating me #than tell them about my real greatest struggles #I hate those assignments #school #the education system is flawed #high school #trauma

[lovebugism]

OMG BUG I READ YOUR FICTOBER EVENT AND GOT SO EXCITED!!!

"I’ve been crocheting this throw blanket for four years and it’s finally finished. Please pretend it’s big enough and cuddle under it with me." I read this prompt and I think it would be amazing with sunshine/dizty reader x steve, its totally ok if you dont feel inspired so don't feel pressured to write it, ok love you, bye!! ♡

ty for requesting lovie :D — you make steve an anniversary present and the big softy almost cries (ditzy!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

“Happy anniversary!” you squeal, clutching an ambiguously wrapped gift in your hand. 

It’s not actually your anniversary today. You can’t be sure when it is, really. You and Steve were already four months deep before you realized how official things had gotten, without either of you outright making them that way. So you both just decided to celebrate the day you first met, which you thought was pretty fitting. It feels right to acknowledge the day your lives changed forever.

You stand in front of Steve where he sits on the couch and plop the present into his waiting hands. The red glitter from the sparkly hearts gets all over his golden palms. It’s rather sloppily wrapped, like there’s no real shape to whatever you had gotten him.

He thinks it might be a blanket, or maybe a beach towel you liked so much you had to wrap.

Steve holds it up to his ear and shakes it anyway. “Is it a puppy?” he jokes with a crooked grin and sparkling honey eyes.

You pout, a frown pinching your brows. “No. There’s no airholes, Steve— that’d be so dangerous.”

Steve nods. He tries to be as serious as you are, but you’re so damn cute it’s impossible not to smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he concurs with a squint. 

He tears through the pink wrapping paper with glitter coating his fingers. He’s not surprised to find a blanket inside, but the fact that it’s handmade takes him for a loop.

It’s made of rainbow-colored square patches with different colored hearts on the front of each one. Some look more like blobs and bits of yarn straggle from a few rounded corners, but it’s the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. Mostly because he knows it was made by your hands.

He loves it so much he could cry.

“Holy hell, babe,” he scoffs out a laugh as unshed tears burn the backs of his eyes.

Unsure of how to gauge the reaction, you shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. “Do you like it?" you wonder with brows furrowed in muted concern.

He drags his eyes away from the fuzzy blanket in his hands and up to you. His honey gaze glitters when it finds your own. “I love it, babe— what the hell? How long did it take you to make this?”

You shrug, innocent and sparkling. “I don’t know… ‘Bout a year, I guess.”

Steve gapes at you, eyes wide and pink mouth softly open. “You’ve been making this since we started dating?” he wonders when the words finally catch up to his reeling brain.

“Yeah…” you waver with a scrunched nose. “Is that weird?”

Too overwhelmed with a billion emotions, Steve just laughs. 

He figures he must look insane, getting all emotional like he’s never seen a blanket before. One hasn’t meant this much to him before now. Nothing has, really — ‘cause it wasn’t made completely and utterly by you.

He shrugs and beams at you, wider than you’ve ever seen. “Only if it’s weird that I wanna kiss you stupid right now,” he teases, only half-joking.

“That’s very weird,” you nod, then purse your lips to the side in a futile attempt to hide the smile threatening to take over.

“Get over here, weirdo,” the boy laughs, sitting the blanket beside him and reaching for you. 

His palms spread across the backs of your laughs when he’s close enough to touch you — a wide, warm, and all-consuming touch. You brace yourself on his shoulders when you lean in to kiss him, giggling against his smiling mouth when he drags you onto the couch beside him.

He smacks a more intentional kiss to your lips before pulling away from you completely. He keeps one arm around your back while his other reaches for the blanket. He shakes it out to unfold it entirely, then tries to wrap the two of you in it. 

The crocheted thing only covers half of you.

Steve’s eyes are light-heartedly wide as they flit to you. “I hate to say it, babe…”

“What?” you waver, made unsure by his feigned seriousness.

“I don’t think we’re both gonna fit underneath it…”

“Yeah, we can!” you argue with a scoff, shifting closer to him. “We just gotta get real close, see?”

It doesn’t fit until you’re halfway sitting on his lap — arms wrapped around his neck, chest pressed to his. It doesn’t change how tiny the blanket is, but he’s certainly not complaining. If Steve had it his way, you’d be this close to him all the time.

“Ah, I see,” the boy nods with a poorly hidden grin. You’re so close, the tip of his nose traces up and down the bridge of yours.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him in a whisper. Your smile is quieter now, bordering on serious, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in your eye he doesn’t miss. Steve nods again with raised brows, and you continue. “What if I told you that this was all intentional?”

“…Making the blanket three feet too small?”

You nod.

Steve thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Then I’d say that you’re an evil genius. Or a total poet. One of the two, definitely— but both are equally hot.”

“Well, I was lying. It wasn’t intentional,” you confess to a crime he already knew you were innocent of. You light up again a second later, eyes sparkling just like your smile does. “But at least we get to snuggle, though, right?”

Steve laughs, high and boyish. It fills the living room with sun rays and makes your chest feel all warm. It’s like he put sunshine where your heart’s supposed to be. 

He just nods and holds you closer. He’d tell you that he hopes he has a lifetime of snuggling with you if he could find the words to say it. You’ve got him tripping head over heels for you that he’d stutter too horribly for you to understand him.

But you get it, though, without him having to say a single word.

‘Cause if you could have a lifetime with him, cuddling under this exact blanket (that you accidentally knit way too small), you’d die the happiest person that’s ever walked the goddamn planet.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

[royal-bubble-tea]

Ateez Headcanons

I have discovered a lack in Ateez x tall! Reader. I am a 1,80 m / 5'11 tall girl myself so this is going to be something more self indulgent.

So for all my tall people out there, this one is for you.

Ateez x tall! gn! Reader 🌻

Hoongjoong

I think that Hoongjoong would be amazed by your height. Have you seen him standing next to Yunho or Mingi? Our cute little captain would be so giddy standing next to you. He would blush regularly and just look up at you with heart eyes. He would love everything about you and your height. Maybe in the beginning he would be very shy around you, thinking someone as tall and gorgeous as you would not want to be with him. But as soon as you two admitted to your feelings for each other and started going out he would be over the moon. He would get such a confidence boost out of calling you his significant other and would use every opportunity to show you off. He would totally love to dress you up. He gets so much inspiration for clothing and designes by looking at you. He would definetly try to convince you to model for him and not being able to decide if he wanted to dress you up or take all of your clothes of right this moment.

Seonghwa

I see Seonghwa as someone who is a bit more traditional and wanting someone smaller than him. So when he saw you for the first time you absolutely rocked his world. He loves to feel up your legs when lying next to him. Picture the two of you in his bed, him playing Animal Crossing and possessivly put your legs over his lap. Squeezing your thighs and just being happy to have so much of you to feel up and cherish. Being as tall as him also means that you two can switch clothes and go for a cute couple look. He loves to match outfits with you or swap clothes in general. Gets heart eyes seeing you in his Sweatshirts. Or was it yours?

Yunho

He radiates big puppy energy. When he saw you for the first time he just had to come over and talk to you. He is absolutely amazed by your height. He loves how easy it his to kiss all over you face without having to hurt his neck. He gets so blushy and his ears turn a bright red at how easily you can lean in and kiss him on his cheeks or lips. He loves to tease the smaller members, especially Wooyoung, with your height. But he would also tease you, would hide snacks or other very important objects at high places that even you can't reach. So he can show of his little bit of extra height.

Yeosang

He started liking you for who you are. Your height does not bother him at all. He is more along the lines of "huh, they are tall, even taller than me, so what?" He would definetly ask to wear your clothes, loving how much more comfortable they are. Even if you argued that it was unreasonable he would shut you up by saying something along the lines that it must be because they were yours. Making you blush all the time but him being clueless why. When you would chill in the dorms he would put your legs in his lap, muttering to himself how long they are and that they seem to go on for ever.

San

San is pretty much like Yeosang. He loves you for who you are. Your height does not matter to him. On the contrary he would use every opportunity to show you of. But of course wearing some of his clothes. This man is possessive. Walking around in public with you and seeing just how many heads you turned, even if you did not noticed, while wearing something of his would make him puff his chest in pride. He would be super smug about it as well. He had this amazing partner at his side and they were tall as hell as well. He often felt like he found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Mingi

He would have started a conversation with you for the exact same reason as Yunho. With you being really close to him in height he would have made sure that he was still taller than you. He loves to lean over and smack a kiss onto you, it does not matter what you are doing or even of you were talking, he does it because he can without any struggle. Another one who would love to swap clothes, he sometimes would buy clothes with the thought that you both would like to wear it. Cuddling with him would often include him lying down on you and wrapping himself up in your legs. You know the Twin Tower head spin? He would try to make a new move including all three of you, but after some head bumping and full belly laughters you soon had to give up on that idea. You still appreciate his love and care to include you as much as possible in his life.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung loves you more than anything. He loves how tall you are but would sometimes still bitch about how life is unfair. He often uses your height as a weapon against the other members. Like "Stop being mean to me or I'm calling my gaint partner". You still have no clue what to do if he says that so you often just stand there and try to look intimidating. He would also ask for piggy back rides. And you again have to remind him that height does not equal strenght. Being the little shit that he is he would hide things in very low places, so he can laugh at you for having to crouch down or even crawl around the room looking for them. But of course you would get your revenge, hiding his belongings in high places from him. Hearing him whine and seeing him jump around the place trying to find his things always makes you, Mingi and Yunho bow down in laughter. Tears streaming down your face from laughing to hard, hearing im screech curses at the three of you, you lean down to kiss him quite. Turning him into a blushing and rambling mess.

Jongho

Much like Yeosang. He is like "Oh I really like this person!" .... "Oh, they happen to be tall as well" would be such an afterthought for him. He fell in love with your personality not your height. Would still love to lift you up and even give you piggy back rides. Having you on his back, carrying you around makes him so happy but blushy was well. Seeing how you legs seem to go on for ever, brings heat to his cheeks and the pit of his stomach. Would get angry if members tease you about your height difference to much and would always reasure you that you are perfect for him just the way you are and that he would change nothing about you. When asking his opinion about your height and going out in public he once felt bold and answered "I am an Idol and having a significant other as tall and gorgeous as you standing next to me, makes me look even more successful".

Well, this was very much self indulgent but I felt like writing it.

What are your thoughts on that matter? Would Ateez like someone as tall or even taller than them? 🤔

#ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez mingi #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez fluff

[retrodreamgirl]

the games that play us | steve harrington x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2

summary: you're a kindergarten teacher at Hawkins Elementary and coincidentally steve harrington's little girl is a student in your class. you're very eager to meet the father of the sweetest little girl you've ever met with her floral dresses and fancy socks and learn about her weekend at the park as well as share the importance of ethics and ponder the suspicious nature of ice cream scoops in the sink [wc: 10k]

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, kids being cruel/bullying, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, single parent!steve, mentions of teen parent!steve, steve being the biggest girldad, uncle eddie (he's so stinkin cute!), dustin being a teenager, mentions of shitty parents (steve's), probably not proofed very well. lmk if i missed anything!

⤜♡→

To be stripped of an innocence blind to the eye, bestowed within a certain uncertainty, is barely manageable with a half printed diploma and matching polos for seven days a week. Seven colors of the rainbow, walls painted pale yellow to ward the scar of ink pink staring back with each blink, ten fingers and ten toes set to cling and slowly release.

Whales like to sing. Their tune travels for miles with the ability to last up to thirty minutes. A fun fact from teens who have nothing better to do than flex quick wit in the face of panic.

Wailing hailing from the monitor for hours at a time, fingers gripping loose ends to halt the movement of limbs driven by eyes made of glass and a heart not meant to last the high pitch before the hitch of first period alarm. 

Four square, two bed, one bath. Close quarters, filled to the brim of a pickle jar doubled in size, two weeks notice and an extra shift to light the night and slay beasts of bills and sharp teeth. 

Overnight bags paired with the sag of skin purple and stretching pliable with each drip from a youthful fountain fixed on tears of puppy dog fears, kissed away from dough puffed cheeks. 

Bare feet shuffling shag carpet, one, two, three hops to the mattress spring, tiny fistfulls tugging the grandma stitched quilt from a body  starved of sleep yet carved with the fondness of day one and counting. 

Top of the forehead down to the bridge, across the cheek and the tip of the lips, vague traces of tiny digits glide the skin. The peek of a pupil just high enough to spot sleep dazed inquiries and curtains of baby blue hue blocking rays of the sun's morning craze. 

“Good morning, daddy.” Delicate lips ghost the skin of Steve’s forehead, altogether removed in favor of a tiny head tucked beneath his chin, pulling tossed blankets to pile on top of him. Like the work of a clock, the mechanical thing with its many cogs rather than the two dimensional screen with an alarm silenced since three, Steve hears the slip of his daughter’s fingers through the opening of her lips, past half gapped teeth responsible for his favorite toothy grin. His hand finds hers without pause, gently guiding it free to instead lift to his own lips, ignoring the glistening coat of saliva.

“Fingers, my little miracle.” He hushes, voice rasped from sleep filled tension. She burrows further, snatching her hand with soft giggles, warm breath pushing against the skin of Steve’s neck. His own ghosted smile traces his cheeks, fatigue draining from him with each shake of her tiny frame. “And what’s so funny?” 

“Nothing.” Despite her heavy insistence her laughter never ceases, but follows her rolling to the mattress. “I’m hungry.” 

“Hi, Hungry, I’m Dad.” It was Steve’s turn to tip over the brink of hilarity. Wren’s groan served as reward enough for his timely humor to pull him from the tangling of his legs in too hot sheets. 

Their morning is routine, Steve’s mini double hot on his trail in mimicry of his every move. Before he can grab their toothbrushes Wren’s hands are positioned with the twisted and gnarled mint paste, tongue poked in ready for the perfect dot to damp bristles. He shoves the sleeves of her nightie up to spare the fabric from the stream beneath the faucet. 

Wren’s arm moves with precision as her pupils inhale Steve where his form lingers in one corner of the mirror, towering the little girl with patient drool hanging from her lip. Her escape is nearly swift with her last spit to the basin, but Steve’s foot claims the edge of the door pushing it back to the frame when she attempts to run from the monster string Steve coins as floss. He wraps the thin twine around his fingers, gently sliding it through her tiny teeth when she refuses the chore on her own. 

While he tosses the used thread his pride and joy steps to the stool she readily abandoned previously, her gums pulled back to examine the damage inflicted. “No wonder the holes between my teeth are so big, you floss too hard!” 

“My apologies, Miss Harrington, but think of all the food you can fit with the extra space.” His words are carefully considered, Wren’s tongue tracing the expanse of pearly white before she hums in satisfaction. 

“Ok, but I think they’re wide enough now so you don’t have to floss me anymore.” She races from the room before being blessed with a reply, Steve’s eyes bugging when the hinge of the door nearly collides with the edge of Wren’s hastily swinging head. 

The natural progression of his hand to his chest nearly always catches him off guard, still in awe of his circumstance even five years later. He no longer bothers with the ‘could have been’ and only thanks whoever lies beyond that his senses are common enough to care for a life other than his own. 

Care is a statement so under-stated that anyone would laugh if he spoke the words, the girl whose humming permeates the silent space of the apartment more of his world than he believes himself to be. He wasn’t so sure the roll would befall him with such natural grace when she was placed in his arms, eyes shut and face scrunched with soft skin begging for the caress of his finger nearly the length of her head. But from that moment she was all that came to him with such naturalness that to be reminded that she’s his is enough to build the pressure of a dam within the ducts of his eyes. 

Now there are traces of her sprinkled in each aspect of his life making her the largest part of the whole, from the drawings strung over every square inch of wall otherwise bare to the toys sticking from every available nook and cranny. He often finds her stuffed into the pockets of his jeans in the form of an expertly drawn portrait or half crumpled polaroid from the camera Jonathan gifted her last year for her birthday. 

In other circumstances he would encounter her in the form of a mess scattered to the floor. This time caught too late when his foot lands against the unsavory stick of a bulky car to the base of his heel. He’s strained in pain and an attempt to keep his voice level, never one to yell at the minor inconveniences hoping to build a character of confident morality, “Wren.” 

“...yes, daddy?” 

“What did we say about putting things back where they belong?” His toes curl inward when they meet the soothing cool of the hardwood, Wren slowly tipping around the corner with her eyes focused on the object of reprimand. 

“I didn’t put that there,” She reasons, albeit still picking it up between her tiny fingers. 

“Oh? Are you suggesting that I put it there?” 

“Well no, but...I mean it was an accident.” She deflates, fingers dancing along the rolling wheels, lip slightly poked. “I was just playing with it earlier but then I got so excited to spend the day with you and I wanted to wake you! I guess I just left it there…I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just clean it up next time. Unless you wanna watch me hop around here on one foot.” 

“That would be kinda funny.”  Her hand lowers teasingly, the car half gliding on the floor. 

“And it would be even funnier if I took it away from you,” Steve tuts, only partly joking to elicit the baby eyed pout that could bring even his statuesque stature to its knees. 

Wren skips to the toy chest tucked in the far corner and places the car rather gently, peeking over her shoulder to ensure Steve catches wind of her good behavior. He only chuckles when he’s turned away, already almost to the kitchen when she catches him again. 

She clutches his hand, fingers flying back to her mouth. Steve leaves her be, reaching to the topmost cabinet where the medicine is stored to retrieve her daily Flintstone vitamins. He can feel the way her hand retracts from his own, can see the cute way her nose scrunches when he makes her do something she doesn’t like. He tries to soften the blow, fishing for a purple Pebbles shaped chew. 

“Daddy, I don’t want that.” Wren has already meandered to the fridge, the strength of both her small hands needed to swing the door on its hinges. “It tastes nasty and I think you were wrong, s’not gonna make me smart like Pebbles.”

He drops the shape as soon as he finds it, grabbing the next one that he sees. “Hmm…why don’t we try this one? It’ll make you as rambunctious as Bamm-Bamm!” 

“Ram…bunkchus?” She chews the word for a moment, dazedly staring where she hangs from the fridge on her heels. Steve catches himself in his own fondness, smiling at the way her lips mold around the word, the way she silently mouthed it to herself before giving it a try.

A second feeling stabs at his chest, the fear of her head meeting the sharp cabinet should she let go too soon and fall backwards. He’s scooping her into his arms and onto the counter to steady the race of his own heart, holding the green vitamin out to her. 

“Rambunctious, it means you’re full of energy. Like you when I take you to play at the park. Which I was thinking of doing today but you look kinda sleepy.” He baits her, thumbs swiping under the lid of her eye like he’s wiping the drowsiness from her skin. She’s smart and he knows that she doesn’t believe him, that she’ll play him like a fiddle. 

Her tiny fingers reach up to trace beneath his own eye, face screwing with concentration. “Daddy, I think you should take one too. If you fall asleep at the park someone might take me.” 

“You make a good point, but these are for kids.” These are gross and I know it.

“Uncle Eddie says you’re basically a kid.” 

“Oh yeah? What else does Uncle Eddie say?” Instead of a response she lifts her hands to her head like horns and pokes her tongue out in a silly face the same way Eddie does when he’s making a point to stake his claim to Hawkins High fame. Steve can’t help his stifled laughter though he decides that maybe he shouldn’t leave her with him so often. “Well, daddy says that his favorite girl should be good and take her vitamins so he can make her breakfast.” 

“Waffles?” 

“It’s up to you and Bamm-Bamm.” She’s not happy, but Wren parts her lips, eyes scrunched closed as if seeing the small chewable land on her tongue will make it more real. Steve drops it into her mouth, already moving to the cabinet for her sippy cup to fill it with juice and wash the icky taste from her mouth.

The remainder of the morning goes without a hitch, breakfast a little more mess than Steve would have liked when Wren’s arm slips against her plastic butterfly plate and it flips forward covering her with maple syrup. She begins to cry and Steve swoops in to soothe her sorrows before they begin ringing down the hall.  He decides a wet wipe will have to do until bath time later this evening and Wren is just fine with that as long as he hurries. 

Crisis averted, Steve finds himself standing, hands on his hips, before his daughter’s closet. Wren is having a spritely conversation at the tea table near the window, her various teddy bears participating with rapt attention. Her eyes are puffy from the tears, but she’s otherwise recovered from the earlier mishap, once again excited for her day at the park.

In her lap sits her favorite plushie, a fluffy tan rabbit with a pink nose the same as the inside of its ears and a bow tied around its neck to match. It’s the first thing Steve bought after he found out the news, unsure what he could possibly do as we walked aimlessly through town, spotting the sweet gift through the window of a shop. 

Wren’s voice falls to a suspicious mumble as Steve cards through sweaters and cardigans. He glances over his shoulder to find her hunched over, whispering into Floppy’s ear. Floppy is the name she insists she’s been calling the rabbit since she was little though it sounded more like Poppy in Steve’s opinion. Thus Floppy Poppy Harrington came to be scribbled in the cutest handwriting Steve has ever seen on a makeshift birth certificate Wren made him tack on the fridge.

“Fine, I’ll ask but he might say no.” She finally grumbles, like the poor rabbit is forcing her hand, Steve turning his back before she can catch him staring. “Daddy?” 

“Yeah, lovebug?” 

"Floppy thinks I should wear a dress today, the yellow one with the blue flowers. Can I?” He pulls the dress in question, the blue flower stitching dancing along the front. He considers the option, looking through the half opened curtains at the way the leaves flutter from the trees, swept with wind as crisp as the apples itching to be plucked from the gnarled branches.

Luckily the dress has sleeves that cup at the wrists, enough to keep her warm even if he loses the fight of tucking her into a seasonal windbreaker. He sizes up the hem, noting it’ll cut off at the caps of her knees. He roots through the adjacent dresser, searching for a pair of leggings that would look nice with the ensemble, mostly settling on dark brown because they’re thicker than the rest.

“Yellow dress it is.” He holds the outfit up for her approval, the silent way she replaces Floppy in her seat and sidles over slowly nodding is acceptance enough for Steve. It’s the opposite that has him capturing his lower lip between his teeth these days. The way she’ll just stare at him devoid of any response when she doesn’t agree with what he’s saying to her. 

He helps her into her fall fashion, no arguments when she pulls her pretty brown boots from the closet while he procures a pair of wool socks that won’t have her toes freezing on the playset. He almost forgets he has to dress himself until she’s pushing him out of her room and toward his own with an insistence that he hurry.

She closes the door and he can hear her feet scurrying down the short hall, probably to plop herself in front of the tv in hopes of catching the end of the morning cartoon slate.

Steve takes a moment, a deep breath that seems to elude him most times. It’s the guilt of needing these moments away from his favorite person that makes them few and far between, even ten minutes spent getting ready often filled with thoughts of what she’s doing while she waits, if he’s taking too long. The woes of parenthood as Robin calls it. Funny to Steve seeing as she doesn’t have any children, but she’s certainly not wrong.

He’s spritzing cologne over the burgundy crew neck he threw on when he hears the patter of Wren’s feet stopping at the edge of the hall.

“Daddy, there’s someone at the door! Don’t worry, I’ll get it!” 

“Wren Elizabeth Harrington, don’t you touch that door!” The fragrance barely lands back on his dresser, his legs striding through his bedroom door and to the living room where he finds Wren stock still just in before the front door with a wide smile talking to whoever’s on the other side.

“Come on, Wrennie, let your favorite uncle in. He brought you some yummy donuts!” Dustin entices her, muffled by the thick wooden barrier.

“What flavor?” She inquires, arms folding over her chest. 

“Chocolate!” Wrong answer.

“I’m sorry, daddy says I can't open the door.” She spins on her heel, jumping at the sight of Steve just feet away. “It’s Uncle Dusty, he brought you donuts.” 

She skips back to the tv. Tiny Toon Adventures is the newest thing catching her attention these days. Steve opens the door, a half eaten donut in Dustin’s hand only topped by the look of absolute shock coating his features. 

“She wouldn’t let me in.” 

“You don’t even have donuts. Good girl,” Steve trails him into the living room where Wren has already forgotten anyone was at the door. He gently tugs her fingers from her mouth once more, settling beside Dustin who’s picking at his donut with disinterest. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just thought I would drop in on my favorite people, clearly that was a mistake!” 

“Daddy and I are going to the park. You can play with me on the monkey bars.” Wren hums like it’s a privilege while her large eyes continue following the pink bunny across the screen, making sure Floppy’s ears are up and paying attention. 

“Last time I checked you can’t even climb the monkey bars.” Dustin teases her, her head whipping over to regard him with a tense stare. It’s her newest assault, no argument to be had lately, just large pupils of harsh disparity to set on edge whoever lay on the receiving end. Steve’s been there a few times, more willing to compromise than let her cold eyes shift to puddles with her lip quivering between her teeth. “Come on, Wrennie, I’m just kidding.” 

“Dude, why are you being mean to my kid?” Steve snags the remote from the edge of the coffee table, watching the end of the show fade to black and flicking the power button. He strolls to where he keeps the jackets, neatly filed in the hall closet, and pulls a pretty blue one and his own gray windbreaker. “Come put your coat on, Wren.” 

She skips over, sliding her arms through the sleeves singing the Muppet Babies theme song beneath her breath. The last time Steve tried to turn the show on for her she made a big stink, claiming to be much too old for such childish things. He thinks it’s a side effect of her new class, her first day of kindergarten sending her home with the biggest frown he’s ever seen. It was that weekend that she absolutely refused to dance around the living room with Steve to the song, his horrible Kermit impression doing little to turn the pout nestled on her chubby cheeks. 

He tried to coax an explanation from her. He set her up with an array of new crayola crayons, she’d been tirelessly begging him for the sixty-four pack as she was enamored with the idea of a sharpener right in the box, and printer paper at the dining table to occupy her while he made dinner. She wouldn’t budge. Now her nose turns up when the characters flash on the television, but he has a feeling it has nothing to do with the animated puppets and they only serve as an unnecessary casualty to the real issue. 

“Whatcha singin’, bug?” He helps her zip before snugging her beanie over her lengthy mane, the ends curling around her shoulders. 

“Nothin’.” She chirps, running to the mirror nestled above the table beside the front door. She jumps up and down a few times, trying to catch sight of herself in the round frame to no avail. She huffs but doesn’t relent, climbing the sturdy top to rest on her knees. “Daddy, don’t you think I look pretty today? Floppy was right, the yellow dress is perfect!” 

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He agrees, spinning his keys around his finger. “You coming, Henderson?” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

~*~

Hawkins is somehow exactly what you expected and the exact opposite. 

You think it’s the people. The way half of them seem to fit the mold of the whole small town gimmick with their bright smiles and welcome pies while the other half are unapologetically riding the jagged edge of social acceptance. It’s like there’s something lingering just beneath your nose and you had to be there to see it but you’re a lifetime too late. 

It’s nice enough without being too overwhelming. Your optimism outweighs the unsavory sounds rattling in the bushes outside of your aunt's one story because any job is a good one for a first time teacher. 

It was daunting, walking through the shops and plucking motivational posters and alphabet magnets, wondering what kinds of kids Hawkins has to offer and hoping they’re better than Mrs. Wick’s third grade English class back in Illinois. You spent countless hours sorting markers and glue sticks and making lesson plans for a bunch of kindergarteners like their opinions are the ones that will make or break your career. 

Not entirely untrue, but dramatic even for your taste and no more of a confidence booster. 

Further, the flickering emergency lights of Hawkins Elementary were less than welcoming when the janitor shoved his custodial cart against the back entrance so you could get in a few days early to set up. 

Luckily, your classroom was much more receptive to your eccentric tastes and the room was covered in bright fluorescence rather than the sickly yellow coating the dimly lit hallways. It was with a cautious air that you decided the space was just cute enough to teach a gaggle of five year old's the basics of civility.

Now you lay dormant against the shag carpet of your aunt’s living room, fishing through a bag of goldfish and wondering what the hell is wrong with Jamie Fisher.

Your first week ended approximately twenty two hours ago and you were immediately taken with the students. All were wide eyed and curious because you were certainly not Mrs. Cotsdale, the nice old woman they were introduced to at the end of last year. But as kids do, they adjusted rather quickly, taking a liking to the way you allowed them to pick their seats and the quirky way you introduced yourself. 

All but Jamie Fisher who dared not wait until snack time to make it clear that he was certainly not pleased with the arrangements at hand. 

While you’re certain his mean streak is nothing personal, you’re forced to gently admonish him as it stands, too skittish to approach his parents a mere week into the quarter. He’s mostly harmless, no hands thrown or words spoken with such severity that any student’s complaints have driven you to a harsher punishment than timeout. 

Still, as you sit and pick at the tiny thread fraying at the hem of your top you can’t think of a single reason for his outright rebellion against you specifically.

A home problem is too forward. You’ve known the kid for a mere seven days and aside from his affinity for his Chuck Taylors and the over eager way his mother passed you a tin of cookies on the first day you know nothing about him. 

He all but refuses to participate in circle time and the one time you put him in timeout for his lack of participation he deemed you unfair and, his words not yours, the worst teacher to ever step foot in Hawkins.

So how better to celebrate the end of your first week than with an oversized bag of crackers, midway through a screening of The Breakfast Club playing on the television whilst you ponder your befittance as a teacher based on the reactionary contention of a five year old?

“Honey, you can’t lay on the floor all weekend. My bridge club is coming at three.” 

“I like bridge.” You mutter, stuffing a half bitten fish through your teeth. Your toes dance between the strings of the rug, contemplating your next move when your aunt makes clear that you are certainly not invited to watch her weekly skirmish with the other middle aged women within walking distance.

You recall one of the teachers mentioning a park not far and it seems as good a plan as any. 

You stumble upon the realization as Bender is clapping into his famed monologue, Clair’s hand swiping at the softness of her lips. It’s one you could recite without the prying eyes of misfit teens and certainly without your aunt silently chiding you for flattening her floor. 

You manage to scrounge up the crumbs that always seem to materialize when eating something as rudimentary as goldfish and shove your feet into your sneakers, snagging a jacket for good measure.

“I’ll be back later!” 

“Take your time. Oh! But do you mind if I serve these cookies to the girls? They’re not very good but good enough to feed those gossips.” 

~*~

The day is young and the park is packed, kids of all ages running back and forth, screaming at the top of their lungs. A little boy pushing himself on the swings with the help of his mother. 

At first Steve thinks it's his hand that tightens around his daughters, the pressure not quite holding her there but enough to keep them linked together where he allows Dustin to lead them to a picnic table being vacated by another family. It's when they reach the table, his free hand dropping the small bag he’d packed to the tabletop, that he realizes Wren hasn’t taken a running start to the playset. 

“Go on and play, bug, we’ll be right here watching.” He gently nudges her backside, the weight of her tiny frame leaning into his palm rather than taking the momentum and blasting off with it. She’s dancing in place, little circles she twirls with her feet, hands catching at the fluttering hem of her dress like the princess Steve and everyone else believes her to be. 

“Wanna stay here for a while, with you!” She sings like it’s the most logical next step. Steve doesn’t miss the way her eyes slide to the swings drifting in the slight breeze before she reaches for her bag to pull her sippy cup from the side pocket and settle in the grass. 

“I thought you wanted to play on the monkey bars?” Dustin attempts, used to her outrunning them all with her bubbly laughter trailing in her wake. It’s an oddity to the pair of them, Steve’s brows scrunching with a minute concern before he’s lowering himself from the bench to sit with his daughter. 

“Maybe later.” She shrugs, eyes following the masses of children running and screaming without any sense of civility amongst them. The enthusiasm she’d awoken him with has dwindled, her lips pulled into a pout where she sits pawing at her cup. 

“Are you okay, bug? You were so excited about the park this morning.” He adjusts a stray hair beneath her hat, looking for any sign that she’d become suddenly unwell on the drive over. 

“M’fine, I just wanna wait a little while to play.” She sounds solemn but doesn’t say more, pulling herself from the ground to climb the bench beside Dustin. Steve picks absently at the grass, ripping the blades between his fingers with an unfamiliar agitation. 

He hasn’t felt so unawares when it came to his own child since she was no more than an infant and he found out he would be caring for her all on his own. She’s always been forthcoming, as talkative as any little kid discovering the world piece by piece with her heart on her sleeve. 

She loved to tell him all about her day: the things she did, the things she'd been waiting to do until she got home. Until suddenly one word answers were all she could seem to muster, trying to hide behind the sweet smile on her face.

Things haven’t been altogether different but he’s not been foolish enough to ignore the way her eyes have dimmed just slightly and she’s less eager when it comes to the things she used to love. It’s been hard not to self reflect, Steve invariably questioning his adequacy as a father. 

He’s always thought it would be just as easy for him to fall into the same patterns as his own parents, his own father. Constantly taking care to make you feel as loved as possible, to create the kind of bond he always craved. It’s times like now that he thinks he must’ve done something wrong. 

“I’m gonna go play, daddy!” He would’ve missed the sudden change were it not for her cup tipping over the edge of the table to tumble into his lap. He watches her scamper to a little girl that looks to be her age, the two catching on quick and ducking into the primary colored playset. The tension in his shoulders hardly diminishes.

“That was weird, right?” Steve needs the affirmation that he’s not overreacting. He flops his chestnut hair to one side, peeking at Dustin through the crest of his arm. He feels nearly foolish looking up at the teen, still perched in the grass like he’s the child here.

“What?” 

“Wren, the way she was acting.” Dustin glances where they can see you swerving through a series of metal rings fashioned in red, Steve’s eyes unable to look away until you’ve made it safely without a scratch. “She’s been…different lately.” 

“It’s called getting older. You should know it made you lame as hell.” 

“You’re such a little shit. Can you be serious for like two seconds? Dude, she won’t even watch Muppet Babies with me anymore.” If he were less distraught the sentence would’ve sent Dustin rolling on the ground, but the way Steve’s soft hazel eyes seemed to double around the pupil had him thinking better of it. 

“Maybe she’s just finding new interests. She’s not a baby anymore, Steve, you’re bound to drift apart eventually.” 

“Shut up, Henderson.” 

The thought of his little bundle of joy growing past the peak of his kneecap, no need for him to haul her around in his arms anymore is a thought far too detrimental. He ponders as much with eyes trained on the toes of his sneakers, the feeling of the slightly wet grass seeping into his denim jeans. 

Wren’s not much bigger than she was last year and still the size is insurmountable in his eyes, his precious lovebug growing too fast. He’s teased countless times that he’d lock her in a pretty little jar so he can keep her this small forever, though the sentiment rings entirely true. He can’t stomach the thought of Wren going to first grade next year, let alone far enough to be walking the same halls where he was deemed ‘King Steve’ by love drunk teenagers at Hawkins High.

His eventual migration to the picnic table guides him into a conversation about the latest D&D campaign. Not that he knows much about the complicated roleplay but it gives him a sense of peace sitting with the one kid who made him feel wanted even after everyone else deemed him a colossal blunder his senior year. 

It was Dustin and his own band of misfits that helped Steve realize there were more important things than popularity and the one that got away. Made him comfortable with the prospect of being a father.

“You call that girl from Family Video yet?” Dustin eases in, poking through Wren’s bag to pull a pack of fruit snacks. Steve glances toward the playset, silently urging his daughter to come running over with some story about the fantastical happenings of the last thirty minutes. 

“No, just doesn’t feel right.” A true statement, assessment of his life thus far always drawing him away from the pursuit of romance. 

“It’s just a date, not like she’s asking you to get married.” Dustin gets it, they all do, but it feels in poor taste to see his best friend settling into a life of two with the knowledge that one day it’s not just gonna be cartoons Wren isn’t sharing with Steve. He’s not forcing him into forever, but attempting to lure him toward the possibility of trying. “Give her the old drive-in special, girls used to love that. I mean, there was that time you almost got your ass kicked because one of them had a boyfriend but—” 

“God, you’re such a teenager.” Steve scoffs, snatching the pack of snacks from his hand to steal the last of them. He won’t say it’s the fear of what Wren will think that’s stopping him, not a non factor but not his biggest concern, but he doesn’t want to dip her into a pool of false hope only to be sent drowning by a false floaty. 

He’s built a house. One that’s safe and familiar, filled with the people who’ve proven to be all or nothing. Wren’s aunts and uncles collectively play similar roles in the confidence of her upbringing and Steve isn’t willing to jeopardize the strength of his four walls with an audible. 

“A teenager with a girlfriend.” Dustin corrects, goofy grin at the mere mention of his precious Suzie. 

“Please don’t start singing.” 

“Whatever dude, all I’m saying is—” Steve has no idea what he was saying because ear splitting is the only thing to describe the high pitch ripping into his hollowed canals, pressing like lead against the drums of his ears. Even worse, the sound is as familiar as his own voice to him.

Adrenaline courses through him, dodging between the island of eyes kids and parents alike that stopped to find the wail of anguish. The park is suddenly miles long, and Steve can’t find Wren fast enough. His brain is already flooded with every sickening possibility when he rounds the corner of the playset to find her covered in mulch beside the firepole. 

Her cheeks are rosy and she’s still crying, albeit too choked up to keep pace with the octave that drew everyone’s attention. Steve’s eyes do an initial scan, quick to catch onto the redness the length of her forehead though concentrated mostly on the right side beneath her hairline. 

Her hands are scratched beneath the dirt caked from the damp mulch and he doesn’t draw her attention but notices the beginnings of dark red seeping through the knee of her leggings. He can guess she fell the distance from the top of the playset, not overwhelming but still a hefty drop for someone her size. 

He kneels before her, her body naturally flooding forward to cling to his dear life.

“It’s okay, did you fall, sweet girl?” He pulls away just enough to cup her cheeks, turning her head with enough ease not to jostle her but still get a good look at the harsh redness of her skin. It’s already beginning to swell to a healthy bump and he makes a note to call the doctor just to make sure he doesn’t need to bring her in. 

“Pu-pushed!” She manages, burying her head into his sweater to flood more tears than she knows what to do with. Steve glances around then, most of the children either gone back to play or huddled with their parents with large fearful eyes. There’s no one within distance for him to point an accusatory finger and Wren’s in no state to give him a clear answer.

“Okay, let’s go home and we’ll get you cleaned up. We can have a bath and watch a movie, any one you want.” He thinks he hears an ‘okay’ beneath the heaviness of her breathing mixing with the wetness of snot dripping from her nose. He pulls her into his arms and finds Dustin already with Wren’s bag and a solemn expression.

The woes of parenting.

~*~

The weather is chillier than you expected of early fall, a light breeze licking at the browning trees and slipping beneath your loose jacket. The park is only a few blocks but somehow word of mouth has spread that you’re new in town and your aunt is suddenly of small town fame amongst the masses of Hawkin’s lower class suburbia. So, everyone who could’ve stopped you on the way made sure to do just that and suddenly you have a bread baking date with a Ms.Henderson next Friday. 

By the time you do make it things seem to be in the midst of dying down. Families slowly making their way out of the park save for the select few who seem to be enjoying the newly deserted playground. You don’t question much, the late afternoon hour seeming a perfectly reasonable time to pack up and head home to ready for supper. 

“Miss. Y/l/n, fancy meeting you here!” Mrs. Fisher appears before you, purse slung over her shoulder and an unbothered Jamie clinging to her hand. It’s perhaps the most agreeable you’ve seen him in these short few days, a sucker jammed in his fist, dripping with a fresh coating of saliva.

“Mrs.Fisher, it’s lovely to see you! Hey, Jamie!” It hurts, the way your muscles retract into that faux business smile. The one you always swore you’d never need to use but in this instance it appears without your consent. Jamie mutters a greeting, though his eyes are trained on anything but you, as opposed to his mother who can’t seem to find any concentration aside from your pupils.

“It’s so nice to see you! Are you meeting up with some friends?” 

“Oh…no just a walk. It seemed like a nice day.” 

“Oh, that’s alright, honey, it’ll take some time for everyone to get used to you but I’m sure you’ll be making friends in no time.” She says it with a hint of accusation, like you aren’t trying hard enough, like you asked for her opinion. 

“Are you guys heading home?” You alter the course of conversation, uncomfortable with such scrutiny from the pair. Jamie shifts on his feet, shoving his sucker into the flesh of his cheek and tugging his hand free to chase down a stray stick meant for wielding. 

“Oh yeah. Some sweet little girl fell off the playset, says someone pushed her. Poor thing.” 

“Oh no, is she okay? Do you know who did it?” 

“She seemed fine enough, no hospital visits!” Mrs.Fisher laughed, like hospital visits are something she’s become achingly accustomed to but schools her face rather quickly to continue with her little anecdote. “No one admitted to pushing her so it just seems safer to head home for the day. I just don’t know how kids can be so cruel.”

You’re not in control of the way your eyes drift to Jamie poking at the trunk of a tree, but you’re also not sure Mrs.Fisher catches your drift. The way your eyes zero in begging her to understand that her own kid has the ability to brandish such cruelty with the same nonchalance as the makeshift sword dancing in his grip.

“Yeah, kids can definitely be complicated people.” 

~*~

Wren is in good spirits by the time her bath is through. The heaviness nestled against her head still worries Steve but a few Bugs Bunny bandages are enough to soothe the damage of the scrapes and bruises beneath her clothing. 

Dustin stayed for around an hour afterward, to make sure Wren was okay and Steve’s head was on straight, no longer a panicked parent with no clue which way was up. The thought of earlier events still sets his pulse on high, even as he stares at the soft smile Wren regards the tv with, the Lollipop Guild tickling her pink. 

She’s cuddled beneath her favorite blanket, a surprise gift from his mother when he moved out. It’s ironic, the way the stitching creates the illusion of reaching for the stars over its expanse of deep blue. He thinks it’s the most sentimental thing his parents ever gifted him. Not that his father had anything to do with it. 

Floppy is perched beneath the crook of her arm and a cup of warm milk hangs between her fingers. She’s holding it with one hand, the other stuffed into her mouth at the tips but he doesn’t have the heart to tear the small comfort from between her teeth. 

He’s been attempting to fold laundry, sorting it into piles to ease the task of putting the clothes away later. It works for a while as a way to settle the discourse in his gut, but suddenly whites and colors are all the same and it doesn’t make any sense to keep going. He tries to think of the next thing, the next task to make him feel useful, a trick to convince himself he’s not still floundering every waking moment.  

It’s nearly six and Wren hasn’t had dinner yet. 

Steve tosses the rest of the laundry back into the basket, cringing at the thought of the wrinkles he’ll have to iron out later, and stalks to the kitchen after making sure Wren’s content enough not to trail after him or get up to something while he’s gone. It’s not much of a distance, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s rounded the corner to find she’s found something he’d rather she didn’t play with while he’s away.

The cabinets are mostly empty as it were. He’s waiting until Monday to go shopping while Wren’s at school so there’s nothing left but waffle mix, oatmeal, and a box of kraft. He’s learned that if he doesn’t ask Wren what she wants for dinner she’ll pretty much eat whatever he cooks as long as it’s something he knows she likes. 

Hopefully of all the changes she seems to be going through this one thing remains constant for the moment at least. 

He snatches the mac n cheese and sets the water to boil before rooting around the fridge for something that will suffice as a side or a topping. It feels cheap when he pulls the hot dogs from the bottom drawer but he’s learned he doesn’t have room to be picky, a refusal to accept his mother’s charity, save for emergencies, leaving him with a measly check and a tight budget.

“Daddy.” He glances past the refrigerator door, Wren’s edging around the frame with bruised knees and a curious smile. “What are you making?” 

He can tell she doesn’t really care by the way her body tips past the threshold, tugging at the tea towel hanging from the oven. He’s just not sure why she would abandon Dorothy in favor of standing aimlessly in the kitchen. 

“Stay away from the oven please, bug. I’m cooking dinner and I don’t want you to get hurt.” More hurt. “Why aren’t you watching your movie?” 

“I missed you.” She’s being cute, bare feet pushing to tipped toes when her arms open in a sweeping gesture. Steve is putty in her hands. He hoists her up, planting a wet kiss against her cheek and pushing his nose against her soft skin. “Daddy!” 

“Wrennie!” He mirrors in tone, spinning her in his arms much to her unbridled amusement. Her laughter is like music and his feet catch onto the rhythm quite quickly in the small space of the kitchen. Her legs wrap around him to stop from swinging wildly against his front, her arms caged between their chests where she clutches at his t-shirt.

“Put me down!” 

“I will…for a kiss.” He reasons, touched with warmth when her hands cradle his cheeks and press the sweetest kiss against his lips. 

When he settles her back on her feet she’s still swaying with amusement, her shirt having ridden up her tummy just a tad. He reaches to pull it down, noting the steam rising from his water on the stove. Wren watches him with an adolescent awe, tearing the box of noodles and dumping it into the small pot. Steve grabs the abandoned pack of hot dogs and waves it in her direction. 

“You want ‘em in the mac?” She ponders, stroking her chin like it’s the hardest decision she’s made in her five years.

“On the side…with ketchup!” She has a bit of a lisp, the middle of the word sounds more like a ‘sh’ when she says it. He’s in no position to argue, ripping the package to begin slicing the meat into tinier pieces so she can fork them. 

He learned very early on that she absolutely despises having to eat with her fingers. It was around two, the same time that she made known her discomfort with a mess at the dinner table, always picking at the crumbs that fell from her fork until Steve swiped them away with a napkin.

“Go wash your hands please, bug.” She skips away and Steve takes the opportunity to quickly finish the mac and avoid working his way around a hungry kid with a hot pot. He plates a healthy portion to her plate and squirts the ketchup next to the pile of hot dogs, extremely careful not to let the dishes mix. He’s managed to sneak into the living room and pause the movie as well as fetch her cup and refill it by the time Wren is climbing into her seat. 

“Thank you, daddy!” She has the good grace to manage the words, her fork already halfway to her mouth and dripping with ketchup. It’s only then that Steve realizes how hungry he is, eating what’s left of the mac n cheese straight from the pot. “Hey, how come I can’t do that?” 

“You’re not tall enough.” Steve shrugs, always easy going when it comes to his dimwitted explanations. He’s sure it’ll come back around sooner or later, either when she is tall enough or when Nancy chides him for telling her something so ridiculous. “Have to be able to reach those cabinets way up there without any help first.” 

“I hate that!” 

“Don’t say hate.” 

“I’m sorry, I just think it’s really dumb and not fair at all.” She amends, shoving a fork full of noodles into her cheeks.

“Well I guess someone should get a lot more excited about her vitamins.” 

~*~

“Little bird!” You glance toward the door from where you’re busy stacking leftover construction paper, confused until you see Wren Harrington sprinting with her backpack bouncing loftily behind her. It’s a wonder it doesn’t send her tumbling over the way it rivals her weight.

She throws herself into the arms of the man whose presence looms in the doorway, bent at the knees with open arms. He lifts her to his height and places a kiss on her cheek before wrangling her to his shoulders with an amusing series of theatrics. 

You always seem to miss the moments Wren is picked up, too preoccupied with other children leaving you to catch the tail end of her pastel pink backpack exiting the room. This time you hail her captor down, eager to meet the father of one of the sweetest little girls you’ve ever met.

“Mr.Harrington!” It takes another flag to stop him in his tracks, like he didn’t think you were talking to him at all. Up close he’s not what you expected, certainly not paired with Wren and her pretty dresses and fanciful socks poking out of her shoes to swallow her ankles. No, he’s the opposite of what you expected, riding that jagged edge. 

His jeans are torn and kissing the tops of his white converse, barely white beneath the dust coating the fabric. He’s wearing a Metallica t-shirt that’s certainly seen better days and his arms are wrapped in worn leather but if you’re not mistaken the crest of a tattoo peeks from his collar in jet black. 

His hair is another story entirely, long and frizzy, curled at his scalp and springing just past his shoulders. 

Despite his rough exterior you wouldn’t deny that he is pretty. Big brown eyes and a killer smile, he’s definitely pretty. And he definitely carries a hint of weed beneath the thick layer of coriander and pine you assume he spritzed on in the parking lot.

Wren giggles and you realize you’ve just been staring, though abashed as you are, burning from the inside out, you step forward with an extension of your hand. 

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, Mr.Harrington.” He looks at your hand then at you, brow arching in absurdity as he takes half a step forward and accepts the gesture in kind. Wren is playing in his hair all the while, pulling up various strands and tugging lightly when her human doll seems to have forgotten his speech. 

“Call me, Eddie, I insist.” His hands slip past the stitching of his pockets, befitting the role of the perfect parent, very attentive in the awareness of his child’s education. It looks unnatural on his person and Wren doesn’t seem to disagree, her laughter bubbling over. 

“Well, Eddie, I just wanted to let you know that your daughter is a delight to have in the classroom. Always very attentive and willing to participate. She’s very smart.” And you mean every word, easily getting to know the little girl who could go on and on about how much she loves her family and especially her dad. Her excitement appears more standoffish lately, but you imagine it’s just a natural way of settling into the school year.

“Is that right, little bird? You’re a smarty pants?” His tone is light with a hint of disbelief. Wren ducks her head over his own, angling toward him sporting a toothy grin.

“The smartest pants in town!” She exclaims, pushing at Eddie’s bangs to clear his line of sight enough to see her without obstruction. It’s then, while they’re in their own little world, that you catch sight of the adhesive clinging to her knee where her dress rides up, the day warm enough to forgo the extra bottoms. 

“Hey, what happened there?” You inquire, poking at the carrot protruding from Bug’s mouth as gently as possible. Wren is sheepish to respond, looking around the room conspiratorially before leaning toward you. 

“I fell on the playground.” 

“Oh no!”

“It’s okay, my daddy helped me feel better.” She mumbles, reaching to pick at the edge of the bandage but thinking better of it. “My head was hurt too, but s’not so bad now. Just a bump.” 

“Well thank goodness for your daddy, huh?” You shoot Eddie a smile, one he returns with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “You gotta be more careful, don’t want you getting hurt again. I need my favorite student around to keep me company.” 

“I was being careful but then Ja—I wasn’t paying attention I guess.” You ignore her little slip but not without committing it to memory. “I’m your favorite student?” 

“Don’t tell anyone, it’s our little secret.” You kiss your pointer, and hold your pinky toward the girl eyeing you like you’ve just told her something astronomical.  

“Our secret.” 

“Picking favorites, teach? Doesn’t sound very ethical, might have to  call a meeting with the PTA, I’m up for president I’ll have you know.” You can tell he’s joking and something about it catches you off guard, only used to most of the parents being altogether uninterested or much too invested in being passive aggressive with you. 

“Ethical?” Wren whispers to herself but loud enough for you and Eddie to catch. “What’s ethical?” 

“It means you do the right thing and you know the difference between the right thing and the wrong thing.” You make it as clear as possible without adding any sense of confusion. Wren’s head tilts at an angle, her lip tugging between her teeth. 

“Ease up, birdie.” Eddie winces where Wren’s small fists tug at his scalp in time with whatever thoughts she’s having. 

“So it’s like when my daddy tells me that I can’t have ice cream after dinner but the next morning when I come in the kitchen I know he had ice cream after I went to sleep because I see the scoop in the sink?” 

“Well!” Eddie starts, hands fastening at Wren’s calves. “Now that we’ve got that all straightened out, I‘ve gotta get you home.” 

“It was really nice to meet you M-Eddie.”

“Oh trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” 

“ A pro-tip, it’s always better to clean up the night before. They’re always more observant than you think. See you tomorrow, Wren!” 

“Bye!” She sings, wrapping herself around Eddie’s head when he ducks beneath the door. Something draws you to the threshold, watching the two of them make their way animatedly toward the exit. Curiosity strikes you in the excitement that paints them for more chaotic than a father daughter duo.

~*~

“How’s the kindergarten life treating you?” It’s a routine, these Monday shopping trips. It’s the only time Steve can focus enough to get the bulk of his list without Wren getting either bored or highly amused by everything on the shelves. She’s a great shopping companion but when they get home and Steve realizes he’s grabbed two packs of oreos instead of green beans it’s glaringly apparent she’s done well distracting him. 

So he’s taken to braving the monotonous task every Monday when she’s gone off to school, lamely pushing the cart down the aisle with his list in one hand, debating which tv dinner is cheaper, but also which one Wren will eat without much fuss. 

Currently he’s taking a breather at the general store, picking up band-aids after using the last of them over the weekend. Joyce is on shift and she always makes sure to check in on him, make sure he and Wren are doing okay. It fills him with a warmth he’s unaccustomed to, creating a comfortable atmosphere for him to let loose the weight he’s been carrying in his shoulders down to his chest.

“Uh…I think Wren really likes it.” He shrugs, tossing colorful band-aids onto the counter, plucking candy from the impulse buy section for after dinner. Wren loves Cow Tales so he makes sure to grab two because she has a doctor’s appointment later in the week and it’s never easy on either of them, and a Hershey bar for himself.

“That’s good. But what about you? I know it’s probably a lot different than last year.”  

“A lot different. I can’t decide if it’s good or bad yet. I guess I’m still adjusting to the whole thing.” He wonders if Joyce will send him off with the same lens as Dustin if he shares his concerns about Wren’s behavior and quickly decides a mother of three children has a lot more experience than a teenager with none. “Wren’s been acting a little different recently and I can’t tell if I should be worried or not.”

“Different how?” Steve could cry when Joyce leans against the counter, finding his eye with her own. She’s listening. 

It’s a small thing, but one that Steve has always clung to with an absolute absurdity. It’s not often that he finds people so invested in what he has to say, not anyone of age at least. He’s accustomed to being tuned out or made to feel like that shallow kid who used an unkindness to his advantage because it was the only way he could seem to claw his way out of the empty nest he’d been dropped into at such a young age. 

“Not as talkative, uninterested in her favorite things, she gets really quiet sometimes and then suddenly she’s my happy little girl again. I know kids grow up and they change but this doesn’t feel like that.” 

It’s the best way he can verbalize the changes without someone seeing them first hand and he hopes it doesn’t sound as unimportant to Joyce’s ears as it does to his own. Like they’re just scraps from a bad day and he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“That certainly doesn’t sound like Wren…” Joyce considers the evidence for a moment, slowly ringing up the few things on the counter. “Can you think of any reason that she might be acting differently? Has anything happened leading up to this sudden change?” 

“Just the start of the school year. She didn’t seem incredibly happy after the first day but she seems okay now. She really likes her teacher.” 

“Have you met her teacher? When Will started having trouble around middle school talking with Mr.Clarke, he was Will’s science teacher and he ran the AV Club so he helped to sort of paint a picture of who Will was away from home.” 

Steve hasn’t had the chance to meet Wren’s teacher yet. He’s always either working or she’s nowhere to be found when he does have the day off to pick Wren up himself. He’s thought about calling to set up a meeting but he’s not altogether sure what he would say. Nice to meet you, I’m Steve Harrington and I’m wondering what’s wrong with my daughter Wren?

It’s a tad accusatory and he certainly doesn’t want to make things harder for any of you. 

“Steve?” 

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” He fishes his wallet out and hands over exact change. He grimaces at the dwindling thickness of the binding leather. 

“I really think it’ll help if you have a talk with her teacher. Even if she can’t tell you exactly what’s going on I can promise it’ll help to have another perspective.” 

“Yeah, I think I will. Thanks, Joyce, for everything.” 

“You’re a good dad, Steve. You’ll figure it out, whatever it is.”

Her words carry him home, eager to see his daughter after a long day behind a shopping cart. It still strikes him how many of his friends' parents remember who he is, not like he spent much time making himself available to anyone he wasn’t interested in sleeping with. He certainly wasn’t making plans for game nights at Tommy H’s or team bonding with the jocks. 

Yet somehow, he’s always roped into a conversation about Wren and the harrowing task of holding his tongue when he assures them that she’s anything but a mistake and she surely hasn’t ruined the future he didn’t have. He has no doubt his father still finds it in him to knock Steve down whenever the moment calls for it so it’s no surprise that even years later it's something people attempt to hold over his head.

His arms are full when he slips his key into the lock, surprised to find it already open. He panics slightly but it’s immediately diminished when he hears Wren’s laughter and Eddie’s voice singing some silly song on your behalf. Steve can barely see over the bags stuffed in his arms when he enters the kitchen.

“Ever heard of a locked door, Munson?” He grunts, unloading the increasingly unbearable weight and sighing beneath Wren’s giggles when one of the bags tips on its side and the jar of Jiffy nearly falls to the floor until Eddie’s reflexes catch it just as it readies to splat.

“Uncle Eddie saved the peanut butter!” Wren chants and Steve frowns in Eddie’s direction when he catches sight of the cone nearly depleted in her sticky fingers.

Eddie is already pulling a wet wipe from the stash on the far end of the counter, expert in the way he avoids Steve’s heavy hazels. “Relax, Steve. I think the most threatening thing I’ve seen in this building is that freaky looking dog in four-C. 

“Eddie, Keno is nice!” Wren insists, licking at her cone and scrunching her face when Eddie wipes at the vanilla cream painting her cheeks. The drippings from the cone have left four adjacent dots in the collar of her dress, darkening the pink fabric and yellowing the daisies patterned throughout. 

“You won’t be saying that when Keno eats your leg, little bird.” 

“Eddie!” Steve rests his hands against his hip and addresses the man with the same tone he uses on Wren when she’s doing something particularly unsavory. The difference is the smile tugging at Eddie’s lips and the way he places his own hands on his hips as well. “Did you at least feed her actual food before you just shoved an ice cream cone in her face.” 

“Four chicken mcnuggets with fries and milk. No soda here, daddy-o!” 

“Yeah, daddy-o!” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Munson, but get out of my house.” Steve’s finger juts toward the front door, less than enthused about his daughter's penchant to mimic the metalhead no matter how cute it may seem in hindsight.

“Whoa whoa, is that any way to talk to the ideal babysitter for our little princess?” Eddie feigns offense, both men aware that his band is meeting for practice soon anyways. Like the perfect babysitter, Eddie steals the rest of Wren’s cone and shoves it in his mouth when he realizes she’s no longer interested in eating but sticking her fingers in the melty puddle inside the shallow wafer. 

“You’re right. Thank you for filling my daughter up with junk food, now get out.” Steve turns to Wren, taking the wipe Eddie threw on the table and wiping the remainder of the mess from Wren’s skin. He kisses her nose when she begins to whine behind the damp cloth. “How was school, bug?” 

“It was good! Eddie met my teacher!” 

“Oh yeah?” The words are directed at Eddie who’s begun sifting through grocery bags like it’s the lost and found. “He was on his best behavior I assume.” 

“Yeah, she’s great.” 

“Yeah, she’s really nice!” Wren fills in, clueless to subtextual diligence shared between two men with brains barely sidled past the stage of boyhood. 

“Yeah, that too. She’s really eager to meet ya, big boy.” 

“Well that’s good news, because I thought that I’d pick you up from school tomorrow and have a little chat with her. Does that sound okay with you?” He asks Wren her hands twisting in the skirt of her dress with big eyes like Steve’s own looking back at him. 

“Yeah! Daddy, you have to!” She jumps off of her chair, nearly headbutting Steve in her overwhelming excitement. It’s the most in character he’s seen her in a while. “I’m gonna go pick out my best outfit with Floppy!” 

“See you later, little bird!” 

“Bye, Uncle Eddie, thank you for the junk food!” She’s bouncing off the walls and Steve can already hear the tedious argument he’s gonna have with her at bedtime. 

Something along the lines of letting her stay up because it doesn’t make sense to go to sleep if she's not tired. She’ll follow up with a vaguely scientific observation about there being enough light filtering through her windows that she couldn’t possibly sleep. He’ll end up crawling into bed with her and letting her talk them both to sleep in which case his back will be killing him in the morning and they’ll be running late because he’s forgotten to set the alarm. 

“Yeah, Uncle Eddie. Thank you for the junk food.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #singledad!steve harrington #singeldad!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things au #steve harrington au #steve harrington

[writing-rat]

Wednesday's Gifts

Pairing: Enid Sinclair x Wednesday Addams

Content: Fluff, Wednesday's birthday, Just cute stuff, Enid knows Italian (translations at the bottom)

Summary: It is nearly Wednesday's birthday so Enid decides to make her something.

It was about to be Wednesday’s 17th birthday and Enid was excited. Unlike last year she wouldn’t make a secret party. She had asked Wednesday what she wanted to do on her birthday where Wednesday just said ‘writing all day’. Enid would allow that as she knew what her girlfriend was like. She did have to get her a present however so that’s when she knew what to make. She wold make them bee plushies. She wold make them matching too. Enid’s would be rainbow while Wednesday’s would be white and black.

She had gotten to work straight away when Wednesday was at the Hummer’s club. She was wanting to do it secretly as she didn’t want Wednesday to see it. She wanted to see the genuine reaction. She was crocheting while Thing was playing with the music, playing pop music and K-Pop, but mostly K-Pop. Thing was also reading the newest fashion magazine that Enid had read already. The 2 were very comfortable with each other, Enid facing away from the door so if Wednesday came in she could quickly hide it. 

After 10 more minutes, the door opened and Enid jumped as she quickly hid Wednesday’s bee and was holding the rainbow one as she was pretending to crochet that. She looked over at Wednesday who was taking off her hoodie that she had stolen from Enid’s wardrobe. It was dark purple so she was happy with the colour and could wear it without her colour allergy. She was taking her remade snood off too as she looked over at Enid, only in a plain black top and black sweatpants. “Hello cara mia. What are you making?” she asked, tilting her head and furrowed her eyebrows curiously. Enid smiled. 

“I’m making a bee plush with pride colours!” she spoke happily, Wednesday smiling at the wolf’s happiness before dropping it and sat down. “You may continue. I shall now write about Viper’s adventure,” Wednesday stated, ending the conversation before she was writing her next chapter. 

Enid, knowing she would be distracted, immediately started on the monotone bee again as she checked the alarm clock. 5pm. Wednesday would finish at 6pm so she would be able to give 5 minutes to spare to hide it. She was quick to try and finish it as she was knowing Wednesday would figure out she was hiding something after a few days. She also had 2 days till Wednesday’s birthday so she had to get it done. She had also bought her other gifts so it wouldn’t be too bad but Enid was determined. She would even pull an all nighter just to finish it. After 55 minutes, she quickly stopped having half finished it before she put it under her covers and pretended she finished her own bee. 

“Don’t wait up for me, I have some business with Weems,” Wednesday spoke abruptly, Enid blinking in shock. “What? Why if I can ask?” Enid asked curiously, her head tilted like a puppy again. 

“Just something about therapy,” Wednesday hummed out before she left. Enid was about to say bye but she was already gone. Shrugging it off, she worked on the bee again.

This continued up until 7pm when it was completed and just in time for dinner too. She smiled as she put it in the box of gifts before she went to dinner, ready to treat Wednesday on her special day.

-

It was soon Friday and it was Wednesday’s birthday. Enid was up early due to asking Thing to wake her up. Thing did luckily as she immediately sat up and was getting the big black box and slowly went to her girlfriend’s bed before joining her. She was kissing her cheek and face as she knew Wednesday wouldn’t be mad at her. It was about 5am anyway when Wednesday would be waking up. Grumbling, Wednesday held onto Enid and was big spooning her. “Dreadful morning,” she spoke in a raspy, soft voice as she kissed the back of Enid’s neck gently. Enid just grinned.

“Good morning! Happy birthday cuervo,” Enid greeted, turning around and kissing her cheeks. “What was that?” Wednesday hummed out, teasing Enid. She had taught her how to say Happy Birthday in Italian after all. Enid rolled her eyes but were grinning.

“Buon compleanno, corvo,” Enid responded to her. Wednesday couldn’t help but nuzzle up.

That was how they spent a little bit of the morning before Wednesday stretched sitting up. Enid was in follow before she quickly handed over the black box. “Birthday presents. Open now,” she spoke with a smirk. Wednesday was confused but nodded as she opened the lid, seeing the wrapped packages minus a monochrome bee. “You.. made a matching one?” Wednesday spoke, looking at her softly with a small smile. Enid nodded. “Grazie mio lupo,” she spoke. Enid felt cocky knowing that. She proceeded to watch Wednesday open the gifts one by one. There was a plastic scorpion toy, a black cat taxidermy and also a dissecting kit. 

Wednesday hugged her gently for her gifts before she was kissing her. “We should get ready for school now, hm?” she asked. Enid nodded happily as she was staying close to her before she went and got her uniform, letting Wednesday shower first as usual.

-

Translations:

Cuervo - Raven

Buon Compleanno, Corvo - Happy birthday, raven

Grazia mio lupo - Thank you my wolf

#wenclair #ratboy writing #ratboy writes #wednesday #wednesday x enid #enid x wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday addams x enid sinclair #enid sinclair x wednesday addams

[tanith-rhea]

Neighbours

Miranda just broke up with her fifth boyfriend of the year. It is September and she is starting to feel done with juvenile relationships and thinks it's time to settle down and focus exclusively on her Policing Bachelor's. To this effect, she moves to a new apartment to start the new no-relationships (or at least no-men) chapter of her life. Shame that her new neighbour seems to disagree with that… at least when she’s sleeping.

Word count: 3k

Part One, Part Two

I love this gif by @kingpreciouswrld so much, thank you!

Your new neighbour is the cutest person you’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s no big deal, obviously, but it would be stupid to deny she is the person with the biggest puppy vibes you’ve ever encountered.

You first saw her coming back from a workday. She was just moving in, a few boxes in the corridor, some blocking your door. Your previous apartment was a disarray of disassembled furniture and all manner of clutter.

You missed your old apartment, but it was for the better. The new one, just across the corridor, was a one-bedroom at almost half the price, it was also half the size, but you could not care less, being only you.

“Hey, do you want some help with this?” you remember asking the bent-over girl lifting the heavy-looking boxes.

She didn’t respond immediately, instead turning around to look at you with white-blond eyebrows up on her forehead.

“Oh my god, sorry! Am I blocking the way?” she tried to flatten herself in the wall, but the box was still very big if you were to pass.

“No” you chuckled, amused with her sweet but ineffective attempt at making space “I live here, actually” you knocked on your door and shrugged.

“Fuck I’m blocking your actual fucking door” she seemed exasperated with herself, turning slightly pink. She was so adorable you felt your stomach bubbly. Maybe you would throw up rainbows, who knew?

“It’s no problem, really. I can just open it and jump over the box. I’m asking if you want help” you tried to smile gently. Most of the time your smiles were snarky or smug, so you didn’t have much practice conveying niceness.

She bit her lip and you wanted to curl into a ball and scream in happiness. How the hell did she manage to be so cute? You wanted to punch her.

“All right… yeah, thank you. If you’re serious…” she gave you a sheepish smile and you promptly lifted some boxes as well.

The boxes were indeed damned heavy. It only made you admire even more how easily she seemed to pile two or three of them and bring them inside. She could throw you across the room without breaking a sweat, you were sure.

She thanked you again and you tried to act normal and said she could just shout if help was needed. You were just across the corridor anyway.

She didn’t shout for help. She didn’t even call for a chat, actually. You left early in the morning to work and came back close to six when she was already inside, you assumed, watching television or playing games or whatever you assumed students did these days.

The only interaction you had after the moving in was when you came back from work two days later to find a chocolate cake on a paper plate with a “thank you <3” note on it. The heart and her handwriting were very round, and you thought she must have had one of those teachers that made kids write four pages of calligraphy with every homework.

You didn’t even have the excuse of giving the plate back, and what would you say if you simply knocked on her door? Hello, I think you are adorable and would like to spend time with you even though we are just neighbours, and I don’t mind if you don’t find me attractive, I just want to look at your cute as fuck face? No, that wouldn’t do. You just had to accept your predicament and move on.

But the mind is a funny thing, and countless nights of not sleeping enough and rewatching Buffy, The Vampire Slayer atop the stress of applying to culinary school were just the thing it needed to decide it was time for a good old sleepwalking.

The first time it happened you woke up trying to open the door to your old apartment at four in the morning. The hallway was dimly lit by the soft blue nightlights kept for those who stumbled home after a wild night out or left to work in the ungodly hours of the morning. You went back to your own apartment, drank very cold water and decided an early start was as good a decision as any. You made scrambled eggs for a change and actually had breakfast before leaving.

The second time was the same. You woke up cold with your hand twisting insistently in your neighbour’s doorknob. By the fifth you were starting to get frustrated, and by seventh, you were beginning to consider telling Miranda about your predicament, lest she decided to go for a midnight walk and find you trying to break into her apartment.

But you didn’t have the chance. The eighth time, Miranda forgot her door open, and your sleepwalking self was satisfied to finally be able to enter her “home”. You woke up with a searing pain in your head.

“Are you awake? Are you all right? Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, you scared the shit out of me!” your neighbour’s voice was a high-pitched audio on 2x velocity.

Her hands were on your face, and you were sprawled on the rug of her living room.

“What…?” your heart rate was slowly rising, and you didn’t understand what was happening. You were partially used to waking up in the hallway but laying on the ground with a panicked Miranda on top of you was at least a bit disorientating.

“I think you sleepwalked into my home” she took a deep breath, trying to lower her volume “I heard something bumping from my room and came out to see a figure down the hallway… so I hit you with a frying pan”

“You did what?!” the absolute nerve! Well, actually you invaded her home, so good on her for defending herself “What if I was a real burglar? You would come at me with a frying pan?” your head was still aching, probably where she hit you, but you gave her a side smile.

“I’m at policing school for something, aren’t I?” she went up and offered you a hand smiling, she seemed relieved.

Policing then. That made sense considering her height and strength, but you could swear she was an artsy one, maybe sculpting and drinking herbal tea or whatever.

“Sorry, officer, didn’t mean to cause any trouble” you joked, getting up and patting your pyjamas.

“Next time I’ll have you arrested” she arched a brow, amused.

You definitely wouldn’t mind that. Ok, that was enough. She was cute, yes. It was the middle of the night and she had bed hair and her blouse was hanging off her right shoulder but that didn’t give any right.

“I’ll, hm… go then” you pointed behind your shoulder to the door “You probably want to go back to sleep… I should too” you smiled tightly, trying to keep the swagger or whatever, look cool, even if you had just invaded her home, flirted with her and stared at her unguarded form probably still warm from sleeping.

She seemed to jump at that, realizing the circumstances, and looked at the clock. Almost five, damn.

”Oh, you could actually stay. It’s not a problem” she speed-talked at you.

“Are you sure…? You could still sleep around… two hours?”

“Classes start at eight, might as well make use of the extra time” she shrugged, smiling contently “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t want” she quickly added, seeming less confident.

Jesus, the girl was a rollercoaster of emotions.

“No, sure. I’ll stay” you smiled, and she seemed satisfied with that “Actually, I’ll make you breakfast. You go shower and get ready and I’ll make you panda-shaped banana pancakes” you blinked, trying not to laugh at her confused look.

“All right…” she walked slowly to the hallway “Will you need help in the kitchen?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll find my way” you reassured her, and she nodded shortly before disappearing into the bathroom.

Miranda was the funniest girl you had met in a long while. She was direct and innocent in a hilarious and charming way. After two or three pancakes she was asking you about your preference for sleepwear bottoms or what brand of toothpaste you used. You also discovered she swore off men after five bad relationships in only a year. That was interesting but discouraging at the same time. For one, she wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with a man, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t straight. Chances were that she was, from how she talked about men, and that was at the very least really disappointing. You thought you had a chance when you first saw her, but that just went to teach you never to judge a book by its tall, beautifully breathtaking cover. She was an absolute lesbian thirst trap, and it was hugely unfair.

At least now you were friends, not simply the person across the hallway, and you could be content with that; if not jumping excitedly in gay bliss, but that was ok.

One breakfast turned into eating junk food over at your place, watching Buffy because you still had one season to go for your fourth rewatch, and talking about all manner of things. Miranda was in the third year of her bachelor’s degree, halfway to graduation because she studied only in the mornings. She was twenty-one, two years younger than you, and apparently had fooled around with some girls in the past; mostly just “straight and curious” as she put it. She didn’t seem too happy about it, and you didn’t touch the subject again.

Almost an entire month of eating at each other’s places and watching whatever was on television went by and you could almost lie well enough to yourself that you weren’t slowly falling for her and were just happy for becoming closer and closer friends with her. But then it happened.

You had drunk a few beers together while Miranda did some research for a paper she was due next month. It was late and you were napping lightly on her shoulder when she leaned on your hair and kissed the top of your head.

“You can go sleep if you want, I’ll finish this in a bit anyway” she murmured close to you and in your half-sleeping daze you only agreed with a hum and went to the bedroom.

Her bedroom, in the apartment that wasn’t yours anymore.

She saw you walk down the corridor and didn’t say anything, which was strange. Some people didn’t mind having friends sleeping over, but you were going to her room, not the guest’s, and still, she didn’t utter a word. Later, she went to sleep as well. You were already deep in a dreamless sleep unlike you’d had in a long while. She slipped in the covers beside you and brought you to her chest, you sighed contently in the crook of her neck while she played with your hair until she too fell asleep.

Waking up in Miranda’s bed was the sweetest sensation. Her body was warm, all tangled with yours, and she snored softly with her head atop yours. For a few seconds you were in heaven, and then the situation finally dawned in your head. You were sleeping in Miranda’s arms. How the hell did that happen? You remembered last night as if it was… well, yesterday. She said you could go to sleep, but she didn’t specify where, and your sleep-deprived brain took you to the exact bed it had been trying to get you into for at least a week and a half some time ago. And Miranda did nothing. Actually, she didn’t “do nothing”, she went and slept with you in said goddamned bed.

“I can hear you thinking” a sleepy voice came from atop you; Miranda was awake and hugging you while pressing her nose to your hair. She made a contented hum and hold you tighter before letting you go, sitting up “It’s all right, this was your apartment, I get that you would go to your old room if you were sleepy and not thinking clearly” she smiled, letting you off the hook.

She was so unfairly beautiful with pillow marks on her cheeks and sleepy dust in her eyes, a dopey smile not at all timid, but warm, before getting up and crossing the corridor to the bathroom.

You were in hell. You also were in heaven, but it didn’t belong to you. Miranda was your friend; she was straight and very much not interested in a relationship at the moment. She said so herself, countless times while drunk and complaining about ex-lovers, whom you wanted to beat to the ground for not seizing the opportunity of catching her eye, thank you very much. You could not continue doing this. You were far too invested for your own good and it was time to take a step back and reflect.

You got up, knocked on the bathroom door to say you were going home to get ready for work and left.

The following days were horrible. Miranda would come over with takeout only for you to lie about a headache and wanting to sleep, or you wouldn’t come back till it was late enough that she would be inside watching tv. Sometimes you said you had work stuff to sort out, which you didn’t, and she knew because you worked at a café. It also wasn’t a good enough excuse because she did college stuff all time at your house and it never was a problem. She knew what you were doing, and she didn’t stop you. Maybe she was relieved.

It was Saturday night, almost a week after the “I can’t keep lying to myself that I love you” incident. Miranda hadn’t knocked in two days, and you were eating ice cream on the sofa while indulging in some well-deserved skin care consisting of tears and self-pity when a voice sounded at the door.

“Hey… are you there? I can listen to the tv” it was Miranda, of course it was.

You knew you were being a drama queen, but you enjoyed those stages of breakups where you could cry all day and stuff yourself with sweets. It didn’t mean you wanted her to see that.

You hid the ice cream underneath the coffee table and furiously cleaned your face in the hem of your t-shirt before opening the door.

“Hi! Sorry, I was just cleaning, everything is a mess today, I’d prefer you didn’t see it” you didn’t even give her a chance to speak.

She looked easily over your shoulder, noticing nothing out of place.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to interrupt” she looked at her hands, squishing each other nervously “Listen… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’d like for us to go back to normal” she sounded so sorrowful you wanted to bang your head in the wall for being the cause.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable” one truth “it just has been a busy week, I really wish we could have hung out more” two lies, well, one and a half. Could she spot which was which in your voice?

She looked at you uncertainly, her hands clenching like she needed strength to proceed with whatever she wanted to do.

“I understand your position in this situation, and I respect it. It was inappropriate of me to take advantage and a completely absurd assumption as well” she closed her eyes forcefully for a few seconds, her brows furrowed tightly before looking at you again “I can keep my feelings to myself and be only your friend. Everything would be normal; I wouldn’t even touch you if you’d like”

What the hell was she on about? Keep her feelings to herself, what the fuck?

“What? Randee, you didn’t take advantage of me, I slept on your bed. You could have kicked me out if you so wanted, it was your right, and you didn’t. You were actually decent and pretended it was all ok and reasonable”

She seemed confused, and you were starting to feel a bit frustrated at the situation. Nothing she said made sense.

“No, it wasn’t right of me because I wanted it!” she had to stop speed-talking at you like this, you could barely understand her “I could have slept on the couch, or in the guest room, but no. I slept with you… because I wanted to, and because I could… and now I wish I hadn’t because you’re pulling away from me and I feel like you don’t even want to be friends anymore while I can’t get enough of even being near you”

…

What now? Your heart was eerily calm for what you’d just heard. Did it stop and you were dying? Would it expand and explode from the absolute incredulity of what you had just heard?

Miranda’s bottom lip was trembling and she looked alarmingly close to breaking down in tears when you lunged yourself forward to hug her.

She sobbed, heavens allow it to be in relief, and hugged you back with much more strength than you could take. You could barely breathe but you didn’t pull away.

She started crying this time, but you traced soothing patterns in her back until it subsided and brought her inside to sit on the sofa. You brought up the ice cream starting to melt from underneath the coffee table and offered her. She accepted and ate while sobbing. It was the sweetest, most wonderful thing you’d seen in your entire life. You cuddled up to her side, hugging her shoulders while she calmed down. You could barely keep your excitement from showing now that you knew she wanted you back. This incredible woman wanted you back.

When she finally calmed down and put the ice cream aside, you loosened your grip on her shoulder and looked at her face, her puffy red adorable face.

“I wanted to as well,” you said simply, looking her in the eyes, hers locking into yours with a surprised glint “And I couldn’t deal with the feelings I had so I decided to keep my distance”

She was silent for a moment, searching your face for any signs you weren’t saying the truth.

“Do you still?” she asked slowly, looking at your lips.

“I do” you whispered before smashing your lips together.

#miranda hilmarson x reader #would you look at that #top of the lake #miranda hilmarson #constable hilmarson #gwendoline christie #female reader #fluff #humour #just some lighthearted fluff #there will be smut #just got too long for a single post

[absolutebl]

10 BLs where the Main Couple has NO Prior History

Or at least, very very little of it. The opposite of the very popular LTP (long term pining). 

This post in response to a question posed by the most excellent @luuhecia​ who asked: Soooo here's my plea: do you have any recommendations of shows where the people involved have no previous history?

In other words we get to watch them meet and fall in love with no prior history on either side. So I eliminated those were there was a made crush even if only recently (e.g. Light on Me, Takara & Amagi). 

1. Seven Days

They know of each other but just in a normal high school way. No pining. The story is basically about the 7 days it takes them to fall in love. 

2. Color Rush

They are destined for each other but they have never met before. 

3. Semantic Error 

In fact, part of the premise is a “hunt for the unknown boy who made him fail to graduate.” 

4. To My Star 

They have a couple of meet cutes, accidentally shack up together. 

There are actually a TON from Korea. 

5. Addicted 

The new kid in high school. They have a family connection (it turns out) but they didn’t know each other. 

6. Restart After Come Back Home

We see them meet for the first time and then go on from there.

7. HIStory 2: Crossing the Line 

They meet by crashing into each other because... Taiwan. 

8. My Tooth Your Love 

Just so cute. 

9. Eclipse

There are a lot of good ones from Thailand but I chose this because it’s part of the plot, how they know nothing about each other. 

10. Love by Chance 

Just the greatest meet cute ever. 

NEW ENTRY

11. The Eighth Sense

Actually uses the fact that the DO NOT have prior history with each other as a plot point and for character development. It’s addressed directly ind dialogue. Very nicely done! 

Others that didn’t make my top 10 but still have no prior pining

China 

Advance Bravely 

Capture Lover

My Esports Genius Brother - love at first sight 

Japan

Candy Color Paradox 

Given - love at first sight 

His the series  - love at first sight 

Senpai This Can’t Be Love (he has a crush on him but they haven’t actually met each other) 

Silhouette of Your Voice

Kieta Hatsukoi

My Beautiful Man 

Mr Unlucky - love at first sight 

Korea 

Kissable Lips - fated mates

Mr Heart

My Sweet Dear 

Love Class 

Behind Cut 

Shoulder to Cry On 

The Lover - cohabitation 

Unintentional Love Story 

Tasty Florida - love at first sight 

 Roommates of 304 

All the Liquors

Blueming

New Employee 

Nobleman Ryus Wedding 

Oh Boarding House 

Ocean Likes Me 

Tinted With You 

Wish You - love at first sight 

You Make Me Dance  

The Philippines 

Like in the Movies

My Day 

Rainbow Prince 

Taiwan 

Because of You 

Be Loved in House I Do

Craving You - love at first sight 

HIStory 2: Right or Wrong 

See You After Quarantine? 

Vietnam

Hay Rival I Love You 

My Lascivious Boss - one night stand

Nation’s Brother - one night stand

Want to See You 

You Are Ma Boy

Thailand

(not all are chronicled, there’s too many, main couples only) 

Ai Long Nhai - love at first sight 

Bite Me

Between Us - one night stand 

Coffee Melody

Love Mechanics - one night stand  

Ghost Host Ghost House

Gen Y - love at first sight 

KinnPorsche (family connection but they don’t know about it) 

La Cuisine 

Tale of 1000 Stars - Well there is the heart connection but it’s not quite the same thing

Love in the Air 

Love Area 

My Engineer 

Meow Ears Up 

Moonlight Chicken - one night stand 

My Ride - GREAT example of well developed meet cute and then romance 

Never Let Me Go

Not Me - erm, it’s complicated 

Oh My Sunshine Night 

Oxygen - love at first sight 

Paint with Love

Puppy Honey 

Siew Sum Noi

Something in My Room 

Top Secret Together 

TharnType 

Tuxedo 

Unforgotten Night - One Night Stand 

Vice Versa 

What Zabb Man 

YYY 

This post as of April 2023, not responsible of BLs that fit this criteria after that date. But feel free to leave a comment or repost with more additions. 

(source)

#BLs with no backstory #BL love at first sight #BL instalove #Love by Chance #thai bl #Eclipse #Taiwanese BL #My Tooth Your Love #HIStory 2: Crossing the Line #Japanese BL #Restart After Come Back Home #Seven Days #Korean BL #Color Rush #Semantic Error #To My Star #Chinese BL #Addicted #we get to watch them meet and fall in love #no pining allowed

[cishetlessfashion]

XS masc kidcore pupgender fashion with a $25 budget for @primariez So very gender pupgender flag charm Rainbow paws dog collar French bulldog alien star pin Fluffy samoyed patch Custom dog ears No think pins Cute dog pins Balloon dog perler necklace Trans symbol dog patches Idog charms BONUS: (over your budget and also not fashion lol) Baby puppy cradle standee

#trendercore #trans #transgender #nonbinary #nb #enby #xenogender #agere

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! How are you? I wanted to ask if you could please write coops and the cubs going to a gay bar/club for the first time?

I was just thinking about them having that feeling of community and freedom that comes with going to queer spaces, specially after all the hiding and fear they’ve all been through. Very fun and very freeing for all of them 🌈

PRIDE MONTH RAHHHHH!! This house will always have queer joy. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW mentions of alcohol (no drunkenness)

“Hey, hey, hey, sexy thing!” Finn crowed with a brisk wolf-whistle. His hair ruffled in the evening breeze as he—there was no other word for it—swaggered down the walkway to the house. Behind him, Sirius saw Leo and Logan share an amused look.

“You’d better be talking to me, O’Hara,” he warned. Finn just winked, clicking his tongue. Little shit.

Remus’ arm was warm and solid around his waist as he pulled the back door closed behind them and locked it, one hand tucked nicely in Sirius’ back pocket. His jeans were tight (though not as tight as whatever Logan was wearing) and somehow, he didn’t think Remus had missed that fact, judging from the firm pressure of his palm and reluctance to remove it.

“I called the Uber,” Logan informed them, flipping his phone around and around with absent excitement. “T-minus deux minutes.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Leo muttered. Despite his words, Sirius could see the smile pulling at his mouth as he drew Logan closer under his arm.

“What, you aren’t a party animal?” Remus teased.

Leo snorted. “I’m a shit dancer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Non,” Logan protested immediately, shaking him gently by the belt loop. “What happened to ‘best teacher ever’? You’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, grab Fish and find a dark corner.”

“And where will you be?”

“Reviving our reputation, obviously.”

Remus’ smile pressed close to his skin. “They’ll be like this all night, won’t they?” he murmured into the shivery space under Sirius’ ear.

He bit back a grin. “Would you expect anything different?”

“Hmm. No.” A kiss lingered at the hinge of his jaw. “You okay?”

“Me?” Surprise overwhelmed his desire to watch Logan try and coax Leo into dancing on the front lawn; he looked down at Remus and found his brows pinched in the middle. He reached up and pressed his thumb to it, soothing the worry with a smile. “Ouais, of course. I like dancing. I like you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A blush crept up around the collar of Remus’ jacket—he didn’t really need it in Gryffindor’s mild June evenings, but Sirius wasn’t going to protest. He loved the way denim and sheepskin looked against Remus’ light tan. It softened him into comfort and quiet smiles, accented by the growing collection of patches ironed to the back. The tiny rainbow beneath the lapel made his eyes pop when he looked up again. Whatever Remus saw on his face, it made him smile and shake his head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Remus gestured toward him, laughing. “—the puppy eyes. All cute and lovesick.”

Sirius ducked and caught his lower lip between his teeth, pulling with just enough playfulness to make Remus hum. “It’s incurable. You’ll dance with me, yes?”

“Can’t leave you to suffer alone.”

Sirius gave him a jostle, then a squeeze around the shoulders. Remus made a soft noise when he kissed the top of his head. “Can’t suffer when I’m with you, loup.”

--

The club was already pulsing with life when they arrived.

“I’m going to get drinks!” Logan called over the noise, steering Finn away from the direct line of a wobbly-looking college student. “Meet under the moon sign in ten?”

“Sounds good!” Sirius shouted back with a firm thumbs-up. Rainbows flashed across their faces as he and Remus ducked into the crowd; Logan tracked the brim of his baseball cap for a few seconds before losing it in the throbbing mass of dancers.

He jumped when a hand found the small of his back. “Just me,” Leo said through a smile. His hair glinted like a neon halo in the low light. “Grab me something sweet, hmm? Harz wants—babe, what did you want?”

Finn’s answer was lost under the music; Leo nodded to him, and leaned down again.

“He wants something with oranges,” Leo relayed. He dropped a smiling kiss to the side of Logan’s head and gave one curl a light tug. “Stay out of trouble, cutie.”

“Who, me?”

Happiness seeped through his veins in a honeyed wave as he watched them go. They looked so good together that it was impossible to mistake them for anything but a couple. The drift of Finn’s hand between Leo’s shoulders, Leo’s instinctive lean toward him, their smooth slide through the crowd—Logan couldn’t believe his luck. He had dreamed of this for years, aching for the day he’d be allowed to show Finn off, and later, Leo. They were both too bright to be kept hidden away, no matter how selfishly he wanted to keep them to himself.

It wasn’t their first time going out together and certainly wouldn’t be the last. But he could still enjoy the novelty of watching heads turn and knowing he was the one they’d go home with.

The bartop was just as sticky as he anticipated when he knocked his knuckles against it and waved the bartender over. “Do you have specials?” he asked, leaning in to be heard.

Half-shaved hair fell over one eye as she blew it out of her face. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Something sweet and something with oranges. Plus a Rum and Coke and two beers, please.”

He caught the first part of her nod before a rush of people filled his vision, pushing and elbowing to get closer. Mesh and glitter rubbed up against him; a platform heel narrowly missed obliterating his toe and he jumped with a quiet curse. Someone yelled a “sorry!” that he barely heard in the tangle of drink orders and the thud of a sudden bass drop that left the dancers screaming for more.

The floor swayed in sweeping light and shaking hips—it pulled at him, drawing him in. Half the times he went out in college were simply to go dancing. He had endured far too many Footloose chirps, but it was always worth it in the end. Beneath the chaos, the heartbeat stayed the same. Feet and hands echoing the rhythm, bodies ebbing and flowing with each other like the tide meeting the beach. Glitter-sand coated tacky foam beneath his sneakers. Everywhere, on almost everyone, rainbows sprayed across endless ecstatic faces.

Coming to Pride night had been Sirius’ idea. They were all restless once the first weeks of post-season recovery spat them out again. Why shouldn’t we? he had shrugged, mouth half-full of melting ice cream. Kind of the best night for us. I like it there, anyway.

Logan was oddly proud of him for that.

He checked back at the counter, craning his neck to find the bartender. The crowd had only grown since he arrived, but if she was overwhelmed, her motions didn’t show it. She caught his eye and gave a gesture of ‘one second’; he shouldered his way between a tall woman in head-to-toe leather and someone in a unicorn onesie who was panting like they’d just run a marathon.

“I’m so sorry,” they said loudly with an apologetic shrug as they fumbled to unzip the front. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Logan shook his head. “I’ve seen worse.”

They laughed, pulling the top half around their waist to tie it like a jacket. Their tank top was so damp it was practically see-through. He kept down a sympathetic wince. Some people never learned. “I’m Avery,” they said. “I’d offer a handshake, but I’m fucking drenched right now.”

He stuck a hand out for a fist bump; they laughed again and accepted. “Why the unicorn?”

“Sparkly and rainbow. I don’t usually get to wear it, so I figured I might as well tonight.” Avery jerked their chin toward the bar. “What’s your poison?”

Something tickled at the back of Logan’s mind. He knew that trick. It had been a while since he had to think about it, though. “I’m getting a bunch for my table,” he answered easily. He hoped they’d be ready soon—Finn had a habit of attracting bachelorette parties like wolves to a wounded fawn. His ‘Bambi’ nickname contained multitudes.

Avery nodded, squinting at him between flashes of bright neon. “What’s your name?”

“Logan.”

“You come here often, Logan?”

There it is. Damn. It was so hard to find a nice way out of these things without—

A cheer went up from one side of the room; he caught a glimpse of a large rainbow beach ball bouncing across the crowd’s outstretched hands, all straining to touch it for just a moment like it was a holy relic. Body paint and crop tops and cuffed shorts to fight the heat that only grew worse (or perhaps better) in the sardine-packed bar.

Maybe it didn’t have to be so hard.

“Sometimes,” he answered. His throat tightened and he swallowed it down. No more of that. Pride night. Kind of the best night for us. “With my boyfriends.”

He didn’t remember the last time he had to turn someone down on a night out. Avery’s expression did a funny thing, somehow crestfallen and understanding all at once. “I h—”

“Tremblamalamalay!” Oh. There you are. He hardly had time to turn his head before Finn was there, larger than life and smudging a kiss to his cheekbone with all the grace of a newborn puppy. “Hey, hey, hey, sugar boy. Where you been?”

“Trying to find ‘something orange’, since you can’t pick anything normal,” he snorted, pushing at Finn’s face with no real strength behind it.

“You love it.” Finn’s gaze drifted from him to Avery, still warm, still calm. Logan watched it click in his head—as if on cue, the bartender slid their tray of drinks over. “Thanks so much,” Finn said with a smile, passing her a couple twenties. He handed Logan the tray, then looped a loose arm around his upper back and gave Avery a tilt of the head. “Sorry, but this one’s all mine tonight. Enjoy your drinks.”

“All yours, huh?” Logan muttered as they headed away from the bar.

Finn’s laugh was quiet, if a little shaky; he guided Logan past the swaying groups with ease and a squeeze of his arm. “Been waiting to do that for seven years, baby. You have no idea.”

Except Logan was pretty sure he did, with the way his chest fizzed and tingled under the glory of Finn’s attention. He paused by the edge of the dance floor and drew him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt. The drinks could wait. He certainly had.

--

Sirius would never be over how well they fit together. Remus was laughing now, all earlier concern a blip in the course of the night. His palm was big and warm at the back of Sirius’ neck; their hips rolled together seamlessly to the thumping bass. Every muscle was relaxed when he dragged a hand down Remus’ side, just to feel him breathe, feel him there.

“Tremzy’s probably back with drinks,” Sirius said into his temple, tucking his chin over Remus’ shoulder.

Remus raised a brow. “And?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” The song changed; he barely noticed. “You look good in blue, Lupin.”

A grin bloomed under the turquoise lights. “Keep talking.”

“Everyone is looking at you.” It almost made Sirius laugh. The interest, the longing. He loved seeing them yearn without a single move their way because they knew—total strangers!—that it would be futile. Remus’ knuckles stroked his cheek and he turned to kiss them softly.

A wild cheer went up when the bass dropped. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend those whoops and hollers were for them. Remus had asked if he was alright earlier, but his face always gave him away. Remus was always down for a good time, but he was never the first to suggest going out. It was a big ask to bring Pride night into it. Sirius knew that, and he loved him beyond words for it.

“Merci,” he whispered into Remus’ ear. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

Remus’ head weighed on his shoulder when he tilted it up to look. There was something searching in his eyes, as if he didn’t quite believe Sirius. He leaned down and kissed the corner of Remus’ mouth; when he moved away, suspicion had been replaced by fondness. “Love you.”

Sirius straightened, keeping his arms tight around Remus’ chest. “I love you, too!”

It was loud enough that several people near them averted their eyes—Remus pressed a hand over his mouth with a flustered noise that poorly matched his vivid, vibrant grin. “If you’re gonna keep doing that, I definitely need a drink.”

“Yes, I will go home with you,” Sirius said loudly. Dodging Remus’ palm was far too easy. “Thank you for asking! I will also get you a drink—mmph.”

Remus’ lower back tensed under his hands as he stood on his toes to deepen the kiss, combing his fingers through Sirius’ hair. No decorum, honestly. Didn’t the man know he was being obscene?

Remus brought one hand between them to poke him in the chest. “You’d better get me that drink,” he threatened.

Sirius kissed him again, softer, then dropped a chaste peck between his brows. “As you wish.”

The change in music seemed fitting as they made their way off the dance floor at last and headed toward the moon-shaped beer logo in the corner. Maneater pounded in his ears, almost louder than Remus’ bark of laughter when they finally broke through and found the booth the cubs had promised.

“I don’t even know,” Leo said when they approached, shaking his head and hiding a smile behind his drink. “Something about a unicorn onesie? Unclear.”

Finn detached himself (and his mouth) from Logan’s octopus-like hold for the briefest second. “Unicorn onesie that was flirting with your boyfriend,” he corrected, breathless like he’d just taken a double shift.

“Because nobody has ever done that before.”

“Pride night,” Logan cut in, then reached over and pulled Leo into a quick, hard kiss that made his drink slosh dangerously toward the rim of the glass.

“You can’t keep saying that every time you want a kiss!” Leo laughed, though he was already leaning in for more.

“Watch me.”

Sirius caught his eye as he sat back up; Logan looked entirely unapologetic, per usual. At least he had the decency to get them drinks. “We can leave,” Sirius said dryly. “If that’s more convenient for you.”

“That would be great, yeah,” Logan agreed.

Sirius rolled his eyes and shooed Leo over to make room. It was a bit of a squeeze, even with Logan splayed on one of Finn’s thighs while he sipped his sugar bomb of a cocktail. Remus tucked himself tight to Sirius’ side—perhaps tighter than necessary, but Sirius wasn’t about to complain. He wondered, briefly, if he could get Remus to sit on his lap as well.

But it seemed Remus had occupied himself already. He surveyed the room with quiet interest and measured breaths, each of which rose and fell in the safe arc of Sirius’ arm. The cubs had already begun amusing themselves with some sort of coaster-stacking game. It was good to see them let loose a little. They deserved a taste of freedom, after everything.

“This is really nice,” Remus remarked.

Sirius glanced back at him. “The beer?”

“Nah. Well, yeah, but…” He trailed off and tipped his head toward the heart of the club, one hand coming to rest on Sirius’ thigh with a light pat. “This. I like this.”

He was still a little sweaty from the dance floor when Sirius kissed the edge of his forehead. The salt was a familiar comfort. Hard work. Enjoyment. “I like you,” he said into a downy fluff of hair, echoing his earlier words.

Remus turned with a sideways smile. His fingertips drummed the thick glass of his beer. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Sirius’ jaw went slack.

“And I don’t tell you that enough,” Remus continued, matter-of-fact and fucking radiant. “So. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I like you so, so much.”

The side of his face lit up technicolor as he spoke. The electric blues and nuclear greens were nothing next to Remus’ watercolor eyes. Deep, warm amber, dripping into Sirius’ life and filling in those empty chasms carved out by unloving hands. He crystallized there, and made it all hurt a little less. Sirius would happily fossilize in those eyes given the chance.

A year ago, he hardly permitted himself to wrap his stick in a single twist of rainbow. The media crucified him for even that. Remus was relaxed here, comfortable, happy. He liked it in this place of June-drenched pride and Sirius couldn’t help but love it, too. He could love it like he loved Remus, like he loved seeing three of his best friends sink into the sweet newness of finally feeling safe. It nestled in the base of his lungs and made a home there.

He leaned in, and kissed Remus full on the mouth.

In the joyous haze of kissing his most favorite person and being kissed back, he didn’t care to spare a thought toward who might have a camera here. Let them take pictures if they wanted. Let them splash his face over tabloids for having the audacity to leave the box they gave him when he first took a jersey. Somewhere, someone would see it in a drugstore or outlet mall or hair salon and know they were not alone. If they wouldn’t encourage it, they couldn’t stop it, either.

Remus sighed against his mouth. Pin-point kisses traveled along his lower lip, up to the corner, up to his cheek, over to his jaw. “What were we ever so afraid of?”

Sirius couldn’t seem to recall.

#sirius black #remus lupin #finn ohara #leo knut #logan tremblay #coops #oknutzy #sweater weather #coast to coast #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fluff #queer joy #pride month #oc: avery

[roses-dreams-andthorns]

Hello there! May I request Azul, Cater, Rook and Leona with a s/o that wields glass magic?

Is this odd? I'm not sure.

:0 another request trey rlly likes!! Not odd at all, anon! very cool actually-

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Cater

He's never seen you use your magic before, so when you first used your Hylaomancy infront of him, he's quite surprised! "You can manipulate glass? OMG that's so cool!" He hasn't seen many people with the power to manipulate glass before, so he's totally gonna give you a bit of a questionaire, like. "How does it work?" or "is it like... heard to learn?"

He's overall amazed by your power, just... be careful with it, you totally could hurt someone with it if you wanted to.

"Reader-saaan! Can you use your magic to make a cool little background for my selfies?" he asked as he hugged you from behind.

"I suppose I can..." you sigh, as he jumps in joy behind you like a little puppy, "You owe me some cuddles after!" You told him, he nodded excitedly, causing you to giggle a bit at his sweet reaction.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Rook

Ah, incroyable! Trés bon!

He finds your magic truely beautiful, whenever you go to use it, the reflective shards shine in the sunlight, leaving a beautiful rainbow reflection behind, he sometimes gets so destracted by your beauty, he doesn't even notice the things around him, there is only you he sees at the moment, The shining glass shards gracefully floating around you, forming a glass ring around you, as you gracefully used them to destroy your enemies or people you genuinely just cannot stand, your anger and rage are also so beautiful, because though you are angered, you remain perfectly calm on the outside, and your elegance is not disturbed by the anger that consumes your being.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Leona

The only reason he found out about your hyalomancy was when you got genuinely mad at him for not attending his classes and firing glass shards at him to wake him up, he was rather shocked at first, thinking: "What the hell was that? How did they do that?!" He was questioning your ability now, because like Cater, he hasn't seen many people that can easily manipulate glass, infact, professor Trein says that its a hard type of magic to learn, the only easy way to learn it is to be born into a family of hylaomancers, meaning that you are very likely the child of a bunch of hylaomancers.

"Oi, Herbivore! watch it with that glass! You could've cut me with that!" he growled

"Well, if cutting you would've woken you up, then that was my intention." you smuggly smile at him, leaving him to groan in response as you laugh, but even knowing you magic, it does not stop him from forcing you to be his personal pillow for revenge.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Azul

He's already brainstorming ideas to make a profit off of your magic, perhaps glass light shows? no... his mind comes up blank. But other than business, he finds your magic very interesting, He ends up asking you a bunch of questions about it like "How do you go about using it so easily without complications?" or "How does it work?" or "Could you teach me, perhaps?"

He ends up picking up a few books about "The art of Hylaomancy" so he can understand your magic a bit more, and with a little help from you, he ends up casting a small little glass figure of an octopus, his reaction was very cute, doing a little ":0" face, he was so happy on the inside, but he held himself together so you couldn't tease him, for the most part. He ended up putting his glass octopus up on a shelf to comemorate this day, when in reality its because he's really happy about it and thinks its the cutest thing, just like how he's the cutest thing!

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto x reader #disney twst #rook hunt x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #cater diamond #rook hunt

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

A Day that Should be Celebrated

Its time to celebrate Lucifer's birthday! I think the date is fitting tbh.

Characters: Lucifer

CW: Angst, Internalized homophobia (from hunter)

Theme: Lucifer's birthday!

Reader: Male reader

A/U: None

Premise: Its time to celebrate Lucifer's birthday!

THIS IS SFW

......................................................................................................

Lucifer didn’t really enjoy his birthday. He thought it wasted time and took his attention away from work that needed to be done. So it was to no one’s surprise that he was scowling the whole time. Of course this idea was a collective one with you, the brothers, and Diavolo.

Diavolo did most of the work on distracting Lucifer to keep him out of the House of Lamentation. You and the seven brothers decorated the house in colors and things that Lucifer seemed to enjoy. You took on the baking with Beel and Belphie’s “help”.

Belphie was just sleeping on the counter and Beel was fighting you to eat the batter. Satan had to peel Beel off of you just so you could finish on time. Solomon, Luke, Barbatos, and Simeon came a bit later so as to not cause any suspicion.

Barbatos helped you try to finish most of the dishes while telling Solomon to go do other things that were very important for the party. Simeon joined the others to help set up table decorations and to help lay out the snacks. He had encouraged Luke to join him but Luke wanted to stay with you.

You were glad to have him help with the decorating. Sure having a surprise party was a bit cliche but it was the only way to give Lucifer a birthday party. You all finished just before Lucifer had come back. Diavolo couldn’t keep Lucifer preoccupied for too long because Lucifer was becoming suspicious.

What was he supposed to think with his brothers home alone in the house with each other? Lucifer expected to find the ashes of where his home once stood with his brothers and you outside. However that wasn’t the case, much to Lucifer’s relief.

However he was met with the bright faces of his brothers, you, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon, and Luke staring at him with Diavolo by his side. Everyone then surrounded Lucifer, who had a confused face. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCIFER!”

He finally made the connection as to why everyone was here, and why Diavolo was keeping him out of the house. Lucifer was a bit irked. He didn’t really remember his own birthday. He didn’t want to remember it.

Not because there were any bad memories tied to it, but he’s already had so many the day became so bland. You dragged Lucifer to the table and sat him down at the head of the table while everyone else took their seats surrounding him.

He was just going along with everything. It was only because you were there. Without you, and if anyone pulled this he would have been upset. Lucifer was trying to find a reason for why he was okay with it, but he couldn’t find one.

You were lighting the candles, and Lucifer was left to make conversation with Diavolo and his brothers. The candles were arranged to be a rainbow that said ‘Happy Birthday’ on it all because Diavolo took you to the human world to pick up some things and gave you puppy dog eyes until you gave in.

It was really cute though; the candles. Usually the candles would be the age or there would be a set amount on the cake but you didn’t know how old Lucifer was, and assuming he was older than the average human would be a fire hazard.

Everyone was silent as you carried out the cake that you, Barbatos, and Luke all collectively worked on. You started to sing happy birthday and all the guests started to sing along. Lucifer seemed so shocked at the seeming effort put into a day that he didn’t really care about.

But seeing you being illuminated by the flames as you walked over slowly as to not trip, it was enchanting to Lucifer. A soft smile graced his lips as you set the cake in front of him and everyone anticipated for him to blow out the candles.

As he did everyone cheered. Lucifer was a bit irked by the loud noise, but he knew it was all in good faith. They were all happy for him, especially you. He thinks your smile was the best gift for his birthday, and he didn’t expect anything else. However Asmo was really eager to give Lucifer all of the gifts everyone had brought him, and Mammon was ready to see what he could steal.

However you kept Mammon on a tight hypothetical “leash” so he didn’t take anything. Lucifer seemed to enjoy the gifts he was receiving because he would hum after opening each one. However none were what he really wanted.

If there was this party then he might as well want something for his special day. As the festivities went on, Lucifer always had you with him by his side. He would refuse unless you were there with him. There were plenty of party games and such, but most only lasted for a few moments before an argument broke out.

It became a pattern and it was irritating Lucifer. His interest in this party was becoming lower and lower. He had decided to leave the main area and into his room. It took you a bit to realize that Lucifer left your side.

You looked around the main area, as you went unnoticed by the group since they were focused on Asmo and Mammon fighting. Then you walked out into the hallway calling for Lucifer. When you didn’t receive any form of response you walked to the one place he might be.

You walked to the door that opened to Lucifer’s room; he was slouched over his desk working on some paperwork. You walked up to him and hugged his back. You felt him freeze but melt in your embrace. 

“What do you need Y/n?”

He didn’t look up to meet your gaze, still keeping his focus on what he was working on. 

“I wanna know why you left your own party.”

Lucifer sighed. Did you really not understand? Or did you just want him to admit his feelings to you? 

“I think you know why.”

You tried to pretend to think deeply, but you really did know why. But you didn’t say anything, causing Lucifer’s eyes to furrow into a frown. You grabbed his hand and he looked at you confused. He thought you were going to take him back to the party. 

“Where are we going Y/n?”

You looked at him with a soft smile, and brought your other hand to your lips making a ‘shh’ face.

“It’s a secret Lucifer. The walls have ears.”

Lucifer chuckled at the joke, it was true though. He didn’t want his brothers to come and ruin this moment. He craved a moment alone with you. If it were up to him that would be how the party started out. Just you and him spending time together.

You took Lucifer to a small clearing and it was quite late. The stars were shining so bright, it illuminated your features in an enchanting way. He was taken aback by the scenery that complimented you. He felt his heart flutter, which was rare.

This was what he wanted. Truly for his birthday, all Lucifer wanted was a moment like this with you. 

Lucifer did something unexpected. He pulled you in and kissed you deeply. Under the stars it was a romantic scene. As if it were out of a movie. He held your face in his hands, gently.

Lucifer relished in this moment with you. You were blushing deeply. You didn't think Lucifer would do this. Once you two pulled away from the kiss you gave Lucifer a confused look.

"What was that for?"

You're tone was more of a soft surprise. Lucifer held you close as he whispered in your ear.

"It's what I truly wanted for my birthday."

You blushed again feeling flustered. You hugged Lucifer back.

"Happy birthday Luci."

He hummed. You were the only one who could use that nickname without any repercussions. You two just hugged each other for a good five minutes.

The two of you sat on the grass as Lucifer held you close. He didn't want to let you go. You ended up falling asleep on his chest. After a bit, Lucifer picked you up and brought you back to The House of Lamentation.

He noticed how everyone was sleeping in their rooms. He also saw how the house was a mess and made a mental note to have everyone help clean up in the morning.

Lucifer gently placed you down on his bed as he covered you with his jacket. You're sleeping from seemed so cute to him. Lucifer blushed as he turned his gaze to the small stack of paper on his desk.

He sighed. He should be doing his paperwork. However he laid down on his bed holding you close to him again.

"Thank you Y/n, for a wonderful birthday this year. I love you."

Lucifer kissed your head and fell asleep with a soft smile gracing his lips. He was really content with the events of today, even if they weren't how he wanted them to be.

......................................................................................................

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission. Reblogs and comments are welcome!

#x reader #x male reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x gn reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x you #lucifer x male reader #lucifer x gn reader #obey me lucifer x male reader #obey me lucifer x gn reader #lucifers birthday #birthday fic

[uglypastels]

Can you write something about eddie dating a seemingly innocent reader but that she's actually just a little freak like him, much to the shock of his friends :)) i love your writingg and thanks

i had a very clear idea for what i wanted to do with this. did i execute it well??? uhhh not sure. but i still think its cute so enjoy <;3

warnings: banter with mention of sexual activities and themes, mention of asylums and hysteria. Eddie being slightly anxious, but its all good now.

Appearances could be deceiving. Everyone knew that. And the boys of Hellfire were a prime example of it. Just look at Eddie. People crossed the street at the sight of him and could probably never imagine him squealing in excitement at the presence of a puppy… He was the town's poster boy for evil, with an overlooked smile of gold. 

His friends knew better than anyone how this kind of prejudice could not be more wrong and how silly it was, really. 

And yet, when they saw you wrapped around in Eddie's arms, making your way to their lunch table, eyebrows were raised. All three of them were thinking the same thing: What was someone like you doing with a guy like Eddie? 

"Someone like you", being the kind of girl who chewed big pink gum bubbles and her hair done up with colourful accessories, arms covered in jelly bracelets. While they had spent their free time deteriorating their denim and stabbing it with needles and pins, you had bedazzled it with glitter, studs and rainbow doodles.  

'Hiya,' you waved excitedly at the table as Eddie offered you a seat on his lap. 'I'm y/n.' 

They all mumbled some form of greeting in return. The conversation that had halted at your arrival continued, however, not as smoothly, as everyone's attention was mostly on how Eddie kept on pulling you in closer to leave kisses all over your face, leaving you both giggling, utterly unaware of the disturbed individuals in your presence. No one had seen Eddie like this before, and his friends were unsure what to think of it. 

They pushed the conflict out of their minds and tried to continue their conversation once more. What had they been talking about, exactly? It had been a strange conversation, one of those you would almost expect guys like them to have. An article Jeff had read about mental institutions in Illinois had sparked up the topic, and they had tried to continue the discourse, but it was hard. They were self-conscious about you being there, sitting with Eddie at the head of the table, listening to each word they spoke. They didn't want to freak their leader's girlfriend out, scare her off for her to never return. 

But all those worries were for nothing, clearly, when you added your little piece of trivia into the mix. 'You know, vibrators were once used in asylums to cure women of hysteria,' you said, reaching for another mini pretzel that Eddie had stored in his lunchbox. You had said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that the boys had barely registered the meaning of the words. 

'Excuse me?' Jeff blinked slowly, not sure how to respond to this factoid. 

You continued your historical anecdote while munching away on your snack. 'Mhm. They'd sit the lady down and basically torture her to an orgasm, which was supposed to cure whatever problem they, I assume, misdiagnosed. They used to do it by hand, but the nerds go tired if you can believe it.' You laughed, with very little amusement in your tone, but then Eddie leaned into your ear, and his friends watched your high-pitched giggle return as you slapped Eddie's shoulder back. 

'Eddie, don't.' You commented on what clearly could not have been anything appropriate that had come out of your boyfriend's mouth.

'Oh, c'mon, baby. You know you want to.' He reached with his mouth for the pretzel in your hand, which you fed him lovingly as both his hands were too occupied with hugging you. 

That is when you noticed the magazine on the table. 'Ooh, is that the new Heavy Metal? Can I see it?' 

Gareth handed it over to you, now even more confused than before. 'Yeah, sure.' He watched you flip through the pages, and not in the way someone would flip through a magazine in a waiting room. No, you were clearly looking for a specific page. 'You, uhh, read this stuff?' 

'Oh, she loves it.' Eddie answered for you, looking over your shoulder at the magazine. You nodded along until you found the page you were looking for, jumping up and down on his lap in excitement. 'Baby, behave,' he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

'Sorry, guys, my parents won't let me get the subscription, so I've been stealing Eddie's issues,' you said before going back to reading the pages with great attention. Your eyes following each word down the pages, taking it all in now that the opportunity showed itself. Eddie looked over at his friends in the meantime, knowing you wouldn't notice how he looked at them. He had tried to keep his nerves in check, but it had been hard for him to hide just how anxious he was about letting you all meet. Obviously, this– you and him– were not the typical kind of pairing one would see strolling around the hallways of Hawkins High. He knew how in reality, the two of you were like two peas in a pod, but that didn't mean you would be able to keep up with his friends or would be able to get along with them.

But yeah, their thoughts synchronised once more; you would fit in just fine. 

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #stranger things blurb #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff #fanfiction #oneshot #blurb #fluff

[puzzled-pegasus]

things i wanted to add to the "things i noticed in elemental after watching it too many times" list but they didn't really fit bc they're just hot things wade does

"You must have been so scared..." oh my GOd I know this is a lovely scene and Ember's backstory and poor cute little baby Ember and dang it those water people for not allowing her in the garden to see the tree but holy HELL my man did not need to say that in this tone of voice with empathy so pure that it came through the screen to give me a warm hug and a kiss on my forehead ughhshshhskfodj

The fricking LOOK that he gives Ember for 1/2 second before the camera cuts back to her, after asking her out. The puppy dog eyes. The dorky fricking bashful smile. He knows what hes doing. He needs to stop.

The crying game. "Sounds like a challenge >:3"

"But I got you a hat :D"

The entire underwater vivisteria scene pretty much.

Also when Ember is in his family's house and he very closely watches her to make sure no water touches her in the water filled house??

Omg how can I forget the meeting scene, fhsidjdjsjlookadababy hes trying his best and awwwmsjfjdk

Not quite hot but when he shakes himself back into a watery blob when he rises out of the water and then he looks up and goes "that's better" his expression is frickinv hilarious and idk why

When they burst out of the water after the vivisteria scene and Wade starts to apologize profusely for accidentally putting Ember in danger

When he hypes up Ember when she's all humble about her glass molding skill

When he hands her the glass flower and tells her that it's special

The confused and/or intrigued look after Ember asks about the [game]"passes? Plural?"

"Toot toot!"

That one part where he accidentally calls Ember hot and smoking and is desperately trying to explain what he actually meant and then Ember's just like "are you done yet?" and he just whimpers, "yes please" lmfaooo

The part where he makes a rainbow

Oh god I almost forgot the part where he helps Ember hold the door for a minute in the flood scene and he's standing over her and they're all happy to see each other and hes happy that hes there to help keep her safe

If you feel me please lmk what your favorite Wade moment is :3

#elemental #pixar elemental #wade ripple

[cupiohearts]

hii! can i request for eli jang? i was thinking about this cute scenario where the reader is doing her skincare routine on him.. anw thank you nd i luv ur writings <3

DANCING IN THE SHOWERS ! - eli jang

eli jang. gender neutral.

it was night time and this would normally be around the time eli comes home from his gang leader duties. the most unfortunate part about being in a relationship with eli jang was the fact that he leaves abruptly in the mornings hours before school should start and doesnt return for either a day or weeks at a time.

you pouted on your bed. you blame the workers for overworking your boyfriend to the bone.

"now is not the time to mope around y/n!" you told yourself, slapping your cheeks to get your head together. you suddenly recalled a speaker set that you had bought ages ago for a party you wanted to host.

it got cancelled because all of eli's friends were gangsters or dead. moodkiller.

you leapt out of your bed walking to the closet where it was held. plugging it into your phone you scrolled through the thousands of playlists you have for different scenarios till you found the right one.

girl's night + eli !!

it was meant for days where you and sally get to go on dates together at your house and have fun while the boys are out. eli always happens to be there somehow so you incorporated his name there as well.

clicking play, the song blasted out of the speakers while you got yourself a bath ready.

it might've been your bad spacial awareness or the fact that the bath running and the music were too loud either way you didnt hear eli get back to the house.

it was strange at first.

eli had come back to the house with his hair ruffled up after pummeling street thugs, and several impurities on his face to a house with your led lights flashing rainbow and he could hear the sweet lyrics of-

"california girls we're unforgettable. daisy dukes bikinis on top!~"

he opened the door with caution. he was very confused when he didn't see black out drunk people on the couch, not did anyone at all.

"y/n? i'm home!" eli panicked when he didn't hear your voice. (mind you california girls is still playing in the background so it took away the horror factor).

when he came closer to your bedroom he could hear you humming inside. opening the door he nearly had a heart attack.

there was a green alien inside of his house and it was a code red.

you widened your eyes when you saw eli at the door and when he running towards you with a bag in hand resdy to jump you.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT! ELI IT'S ME" you screamed in terror with your hand lifted to cover your face. visibily confused eli had lowered the bag in hand but still cautiously gripped onto it tightly.

"so i shouldn't believe there is an alien inside of my house that kidnapped my partner?"

"oh my sweet boy... you've grown up too stupid the times we arent together" you shook your head at your boyfriend.

you explained to eli what was on your face. even taking the opportunity to use some on his face. you gasped midway on doing his face.

"eli what in the world happened to your gorgeous face!" you exclaimed. the sight of his puffed up eyes, his bruised lips, the redness on his face.

actually it was an exaggeration in your eyes it was much worse.

"i was fighting some guys, it's not a big deal." eli dismissed the topic quickly while you stood behind him with your hands on your hips.

"not a big deal isn't gonna cut it mister!"

you grabbed all of your skincare items and laid it out on the night stand. you pushed eli in the middle of the bed while you sat in front of him.

you held up your oils dedicated for skin healing at the night, the face masks being your finishing touches.

you carefully applied oil all over his cheeks squishing them while he just looked like an innocent puppy with an owner that decided that it would look better with a pink ribbon instead of none.

"this feels strange..."

"shut up eli, relax you're in the great y/n's care!" you gave him a cheeky smile and continued to apply your products on his skin.

you found that his bangs kept getting in the way of your handiwork so you went to your skincare drawer to find your matching bunny and tiger headband sets. obviously he was the bunny while you were the tiger.

"wear this pretty boy!"

the night continued like this. eli would be sitting there half of the night while you continued to have a comedic time giving his deserved spa treatment like a princess. all the same time while katy perry was singing in the background.

YOUR FAVOURITE KOTO IS BACK

thanks for the request mightve gotten to this late bc i didnt check when this was sent lmao anyways send me more this was awesome

#lookism x reader #lookism scenarios #lookism #lookism fluff #lookism eli #eli jang #eli jang x reader #eli jang fluff

[grievedeeply]

Hi!!! I love your works<33!!! I was wondering if u could do The Quarry counselors spending time with the reader while its snowing??

Thank you!!!

i just hit 1,000 followers!! thank you all so very much. knew i had to write this asap <3 this is a super cute request and it's hot as fuck where i live so i'm gonna take this opportunity to say i miss winter. hope you enjoy!! all of the counselors are included in this, so they're a bit short

gn!reader | no tws

tags: @alisblackgf @seasidesamir @sera-wonderland @sl0thsblog @pra-xiis @willowroom @wolfsquad @evaavaughn @blackhoodlea @hardcore0simp @tywrites @yawagucci @ziplokz @homebyeleven @bloodverz @radio-heads @nesai @rainbows-dreams @jamiieebee @cherrypop-xoxo @aspendvd @jjkk1m @aaetherr69 @boggoswife @raeluvserzahler @moosesclues @atlases-atrium @writingsforfandoms @raggedyzoey @emilykolchivans

spending time with the counselors while it's snowing

ryan erzahler

ryan's favorite season is winter in my mind. he loves being indoors and drinking warm beverages and enjoying the weather. usually from inside

if you really want to go outside and play in the snow— even as fully grown adults— he will. he'll give in if you beg and look at him with puppy eyes. it's a major weakness of his

he's freezing cold, but he's throwing snowballs at you and making snow angels. he's making snowmen with you and gathering sticks to use as arms. anything to make you smile, he'll do

by the time the two of you come back inside, your jackets are soaked with melted snow and your fingertips are freezing even through the gloves you're wearing. he wouldn't change that, though

he'll make you some hot chocolate, cover the both of you up in a warm blanket and you'll sit on the couch watching the snow fall together for awhile

ryan is really big on quality time, so he really enjoys lounging around with you on snowy days <3

dylan lenivy

dylan is up and at em! he's practically running outside into the snow with no warm clothes on at all as soon as he sees the weather

you'll have to remind him to put on a winter coat, gloves, a hat, everything. he's so eager to go outside and play and let out his inner child for a little while

he'll throw a snowball at you and it quickly becomes a huge fight between the two of you in your front lawn. neither of you care if you look weird, though

he wants to stay outside for as long as possible. he comes up with a ton of things to do in the snow with you so he doesn't have to go inside

he'll want to make snowmen and he falls over multiple times rolling the snow into perfect balls to use for the body

kaitlyn ka

i don't see kaitlyn as a person who really cares about what it's like outside. she'll see that it's snowing and shrug. it's not her first priority

if you want to go outside, she will. she thinks it's hilarious that you're wanting to play in the snow and she'll end up joining you after awhile

but for the most part, she'd prefer to stay inside. she'll make you a warm drink and put on your favorite movie or show to watch while snuggled up with her on the couch

she'll get the warmest and biggest blanket she could find and cover the two of you up in it, and she loves the time that she gets to spend with you

the cold weather is an excuse to cuddle with you. she's not the best at asking for it, but she's happy it's freezing outside so you're wanting extra warmth

nick furcillo

as an australian, nick is absolutely fascinated with snow. he never saw it growing up so in america he loves going outside and just staring at it for awhile

you'll come up with a few things to do with him while it's snowing, like snowball fights and making snow angels. he's got a smile on his face the entire time

he has the time of his life!! it's such a new experience for him and he has so much fun with you. he never wants to go back inside

after the snow calms down a little, the two of you head inside and curl up to watch some of your favorite christmas/holiday movies to celebrate the winter weather

nick hasn't had many cold winters, and he's glad he gets to spend this one with you

abi blyg

i feel like abi is definitely an outdoorsy person in general. winter probably isn't her favorite of the seasons, but the weather and atmosphere give her something new to draw

she'll sit next to you on a bench in the wintertime, drawing on her notepad. she loves having you around even if your presence makes her heart race

when she isn't drawing, she's happy to go outside and mess around with you in the snow. she's making snowmen and snow angels so quickly

she'll start a snowball fight and spend the entire duration of it not really paying attention to the snow flying at her face. her eyes are just on you

she also enjoys being inside with you after a long day playing in the snow like children. she'll make sure you're all warmed up, and play her favorite holiday movie for you

emma mountebank

as soon as emma sees that it's snowing, she's grabbing onto your hand and pulling you outside even if you're half asleep

i can just imagine her urging you to get up and get dressed. she's just so excited for the snow, even though she's seen it plenty

she loves spending the day with you, too. she loves the weather but she loves your company even more. she comes up with a TON of ideas to do on a snowy day

skiing, snowboarding, sledding. the whole nine years. she calls beforehand and makes sure everything is in place. she takes winter and her activities very seriously

she has such a great time with you, and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much by the end of the day. she loves you, and she's glad she got to share all of those experiences with you

jacob custos

jacob is also really into wintertime. he's 100% going to run outside and just jump into the snow. he'll be freezing cold and instantly regret it afterwards, but he sees you laughing and he suddenly doesn't care

he'll build a snow fort. he doesn't know what he's doing, but he's preparing for a snowball fight. he can just sense it coming

he makes a really awful snowman, but he's super proud of it. he found sticks for arms and ran inside for a carrot. he loves it

he has so much fun with the snow, he doesn't ever want to come inside. he does, eventually. he just hopes for more of the same weather so he could have fun with you again

he tries to warm you up, but he's just as cold— if not colder— than you are, so it fails miserably. it's the thought that counts, though

laura kearney

i feel like laura will spend a few hours outside playing in the snow with you if that's something you want to do. she'll build snowmen with you, make snow angels, whatever you want

she loves seeing you smile so it doesn't really matter what you're doing as long as you're enjoying it, honestly

she does enjoy being inside when it's cold, though. she's great at making hot chocolate and other various foods to eat for the weather

she picks the best movies to watch and she's gonna cuddle you the entire time. she kisses your forehead and holds you close

you'll watch the snow fall from the warmth of your house, and she feels grateful that she has you in her life at all

max brinly

he's outside super quickly. he loves the snow and he loves coming up with things to do during it. he has a lot of fun just thinking about it

max loves sledding. he's got a ton of boards and he knows exactly where to go to have the most fun with it, too

he'll definitely ride down the hill with you, his arms wrapped around your waist. he's laughing the entire time, his stomach filled with butterflies

he's super down to do anything you'd want to do, too. he probably isn't the best at snowball fights, but he does his best. he'll feel a little bad if he hits you, but it goes away as you're laughing about it

after a long day, he's ready to curl up on the couch with you under a ton of blankets and just enjoy your company away from the cold. he wouldn't have it any other way <3

#the quarry #the quarry x reader #ryan erzahler x reader #dylan lenivy x reader #kaitlyn ka x reader #emma mountebank x reader #jacob custos x reader #max brinly x reader #laura kearney x reader #nick furcillo x reader #abigail blyg x reader