#matchmaking

[firelilyfox]

it all started at a red light

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader

Summary: When you stop at a red light Dustin takes destiny in his own hands: he plays the matchmaker for Steve.

Warnings: meet-cute. Dustin being the wingman. Steve getting flustered. fluff. no use of y/n.

——————

„You know,“ Dustin says casually. „You totally want someone to come home to.“ 

The car hums quietly at the red light, the dashboard glowing soft yellow in the dark. Steve has one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh like it’s restless. Dustin’s slouched in the passenger seat, legs up on the das despite being told a thousand times not to. 

Steve snorts. „No, I don’t.“ 

„You do,“ Dustin says now confident. „You want someone who waits up for you. Maybe yells at you for doing stupid stuff. Or maybe steals you fries.“ 

Steve opens his mouth to argue - and then freezes. 

Because in the car next to them, bathed in the glow of the streetlight, is a girl. Cute. Ridiculously cute. Windows down, music low, hands relaxed on the wheel. You glance over, just for a second and you smile like it’s nothing. 

Steve on the other hand forgets how to breathe. 

„Oh,“ Dustin realizes. „Ohhhhh.“ 

„Don’t,“ Steve warns. 

Too late. Before Steve can even finish the word, Dustin is unbuckling, throwing the door open and sprinting out into the crosswalk. 

„HENDERSON!“

Your eyes go wide as a curly-haired menace suddenly appears in front of your car, waving enthusiastically before hopping into the passenger seat like this is a completely normal thing to do. 

„Hi!“ Dustin grins. „Don’t panic. I’m not a criminal. I’m a matchmaker.“ 

Steve slams his head against the steering wheel. 

„I’m sorry,“ you say half laughing, half stunned. „Is… is he with you?“ 

„Yes,“ Steve calls weakly from his car. „Unfortunately.“ 

Dustin ignores him. „Okay, so here’s the deal. My best friend Steve,“ he points dramatically across the lane. „Is the best guy you’ll ever meet. Great hair. Terrible self-esteem. Would literally die for people he loves.“ 

Steve is red. Fully. Catastrophically red. 

„Dustin, get back in the car,“ he begs. 

„He’s single,“ Dustin continues. „He pretends he’s fine with that, but he’s not. He wants someone to come home to. He just won’t admit it because he’s emotionally constipated.“ 

You bite your lip, clearly trying not to laugh. „Is that so?“ 

„Yes,“ Dustin says firmly. „So. Would you go out with him?“ 

The light is still red. Time stretches. Steve considers simply driving into the nearest building. Then you look at him - really look at him - and your smile softens. 

„…Yeah,“ you answer. „I think I would.“ 

Steve’s head snaps up. „Wait - what?“ 

The light turns green. Dustin whoops, throws you a thumbs-up and scrambles back out of your car, sprinting back to Steve’s like he’s just won a gold medal. 

„DUSTIN!“ Steve hisses as he peels forward. „You can’t just do that!“ 

Dustin grins, smug and knowing. „Relax. I just solved your entire romantic life at a red light.“ 

Steve risks one last glance in the mirror. You’re still there - pulling up beside them again, smiling and giving a small wave. Steve waves back, stunned, heart racing, already knowing he’s never going to hear the end of this. 

Dustin leans back in his seat, satisfied. „See? Told you. You just needed a little push.“ 

Steve exhales, helplessly smiling. „I hate you.“ 

„No you don’t,“ Dusting giggles. „You’re welcome.“ 

——————

Thank you so much for reading! 💙 if you like it please interact with this post in any way

STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST

Want to know what happens next? Click here

[camouflagedlove]

the concept of wayne being the one to introduce steddie.

eddie living in Indy, doing music. wayne running into steve at the grocery store and talking about the recent game for the team on wayne's hat.

steve just kinda sticks after that. he comes over to watch the games, dinners on sundays. he helps wayne with household chores the man is getting a bit too old to do as easily as he once did.

wayne asks steve once why he doesn't just spend time with his friends his age and steve says he doesn't really have any.

"well, except for my best friend, robin, but she's in college so mostly my friends are these high schoolers i used to babysit."

and wayne loves steve, thinks he's a good guy, so he's eager to do some light meddling. he mentions his nephew as often as he can.

"your kids play dungeons and dragons? my boy eddie loves that game."

"my nephew plays guitar in a band. i bet he could play one of those songs you like, though it might not be his style."

he tells cute stories about eddie, updates steve on his life and eventually it must work because steve seems to gain an interest.

"so you said he was my age?"

"does eddie look like you? what's he look like?"

"you said he's in a band?"

until one day steve faux casually asks "is your nephew coming to visit anytime soon? i'd like to meet him, see what all the fuss is about."

wayne smirks.

"if that's okay! i wouldn't want to entrude on your visiting time!"

"of course it's okay. i'd love for you two to meet." so he invites eddie over.

it's just a shame he never mentioned steve to eddie. after he arrived and greeted his uncle he turned and was promptly met with the sight of a beautiful, daresay shy, stranger.

"hi, i'm steve," he said with a dorky wave. "it's nice to meet you i've heard a lot about you."

eddie was a little off balance. "for some reson i haven't heard a lot about you," he said, sending a pointed look to his uncle.

"but it's really nice to meet you. i'm eddie" and they shake hands and hang out with his uncle which is only a little strange but mostly nice.

steve leaves for the night to let them sleep and eddie confronts wayne as soon as the door is shut.

"so were you ever gonna tell me you met the love of my life?"

wayne laughs, he knew they'd get along.

"this was me telling you! you're welcome by the way."

[incorrectbatfam]

I'm bored. Reblog this post and I'll randomly ship you with someone else who also reblogged it.

(For legal reasons you must be 18+)

[twilightmoon-13]

Okay so hear my out what if its Damien x Y/N (Who usually works behind the camera) but its a charity stream and its karaoke and Y/N breaks into full theater kid songs and I'm thinking maybe Our Lady of the Underground from Hadestown and is like fully into it and everything and even dressed up for it and no one knew they could really sing until they started to sing that song?

Flowers In Her Hair

Damien Haas x f!crew reader, platonic best friend/matchmaker Angela Giarratana x f!reader

A karaoke stream turns into something more.

TW: None!! Enjoy pookies <3

To say you were nervous was the understatement of the century. How had she convinced you to do this? More importantly, how had she managed to keep it a secret from everyone else? Angela grinned behind you, makeup lights distorting her reflection a little as she pinned flowers into your hair. “He’s gonna love this.” 

“Oh my god shut up.”

It was your fault really. She had caught you singing RENT to yourself as you replaced camera batteries and fiddled with lights before a shoot and immediately decided you were going to sing on the annual karaoke stream. You had tried to play it off, claiming it was just your phone, but she had (rightfully) called your bluff. 

She had given you an out, of course, she wasn’t cruel. But she had also given you enough confidence to agree to do it, even if it was also going to be in front of the guy you’d had a crush on for years. She knew that too, and had taken her time both hyping you up and endlessly teasing you about it. 

“He’s legitimately so Hades coded. I saw you drool a little bit when he rolled up his sleeves the other day. It’s perfect for the two of you.” 

You glared at her where her teasing smile flickered behind you in the mirror. “I told you Ange, he doesn’t like me and it’s as simple as that.”

“I call bullshit.”

“I’d put money on it.”

“$20 says he confesses after this.”

“Deal.”

She finished pinning part of your hair up, letting the rest gather in unruly waves down your back. Leaning her head on your shoulder, she declared, “Miss Persephone, you are the most beautiful queen of the night I’ve ever seen.”

“Shhh you’ll spoil the surprise.” You fixed the lace of your boot before standing up. “I’m gonna go hide in the corner now. See you soon! You better be ready.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

You snuck into the far back corner to sit and wait. Cameras were covered today so all you needed to do was sit and watch. You fiddled with your puffed sleeve as people started to file in. Bailey came up to you, smiling gently. “You look beautiful! Did Angela do your makeup?”

You smiled back, crinkling the small flowers that dotted the corners of your eyes. “She did. It’s amazing how she can focus when she really wants to.”

“It really is.” She clocked the nervous look on your face and squeezed your hand. “You’re gonna do a great job up there. She’ll be there the whole time.”

“I know, I just need to breathe I think.”

“Good call, generally people need to do that.”

—------

“Thank you everyone for donating so much! Since we’ve hit one of our goals, we are going to have a special performance coming up!” Trevor yelled as everyone cheered. Angela had slipped away to change into her overalls a few minutes ago, and you had started to tap your feet with anxiety. You saw her creep back through the stage doors as the rowdiness continued, giving you a quick thumbs-up. 

She grabbed the microphone from Trevor’s hand, quieting the crowd. “Please welcome, our Lady of the Underground, Persephone!” Everyone started to clap, jaws dropping as you made your way front and center. The sequins on your dress glittered under the set lights as you started to twirl, singing. Angela was a great backup singer, but also succeeded in calming your nerves as she took your hand to dance. You couldn’t help but laugh, sometimes missing the words as she spun you around. When the song ended, the two of you took a huge bow, and Angela almost tripped, making the two of you laugh even louder. People rushed over and started to hug you as the stream ended, and you felt lighter than a cloud, surrounded by those you loved. 

Meanwhile, Damien was frozen in place, stuck to the couch, hyperfocused on the ethereal girl spinning around in front of him. She had always been magnetic to him, pulling him away from his work and to her side during long nights at the office. Even on her “worst” days, she was glorious to him, with big hoodies bunched up around her elbows as she fixed something and huge cups of coffee threatening to spill on her desk as she animatedly bickered with Angela. He just liked to see her smile, opting to leave dad jokes on her computer screen instead of kissing her breathless in the middle of the office like he did in his wildest fantasies. 

But now, she looked really, truly, free. Her voice was beautiful, yes, but she was so happy and in her element up there, lights shining down on her, that he couldn’t look away. To look away would be a crime against the universe. He hoped that maybe he could see her like that all the time, spinning around in one of his t-shirts in his kitchen, cats dodging her dancing feet. He longed to pull her close, to never let her go. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything else.

“She feels the same, you know.” Angela’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“She looks at you the same way you look at her.”

He went to protest, but then he caught her eye and watched her face morph into something softer, more reverent, like she was looking at the most precious thing in the world. “Oh.” He breathed it more than he said it. 

People started to filter out of the room, including Angela, who pulled her into a hug and then pushed her gently towards the couch. Damien stood up to meet her, brushing her hair out of her eyes softly. 

“You were amazing up there.”

“Thanks.” She blushed, but continued to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Angela told me something funny.”

She giggled, “Doesn’t she always?”

“She said that we look at each other the same way.” She froze, eyes widening. His hand came up to cup her cheek. “Please tell me she’s right.” 

She searched his deep brown eyes for any hesitation, any semblance of something that may tell her that this was all a cruel joke played by fate, but she found none. Taking a deep breath, she said, “She’s right.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

The kiss felt like coming home, like something in the universe that had been out of balance had shifted back into place softly. 

And somewhere across the office, Angela could sense that the universe had put 20 extra dollars in her pocket. 

A/N: I love a best friend knows bitches are oblivious trope and helps but also gets what they're due ($20). This was legit so cute, they're in love your honor!!!! Like love love fr.

[rose24207]

My dad is a dumbass

Summary: Lucas is sent back in time to ensure his teenage father falls for his outcast mother instead of the wrong girl.

Genre: fluff, popular!Lando x bullied!reader, time travel

TW: bullying

A/N: I watched twinkling watermelon. SOMEONE SEDATE ME- anyways… *cough cough* English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P2

Masterlist pt. 2

The moment Lucas felt the world spin beneath his feet, he knew something was very wrong. One second, he had been in his dad’s garage, tinkering with some old F1 tech Lando had insisted was too dangerous to touch, and the next?

He was here—standing in the middle of a high school hallway that smelled like sweat, cheap cologne, and regret.

Lucas stumbled, heart racing. The world had shifted—subtly, but undeniably. Everything around him was different. The posters on the walls advertised school dances from years ago. The fashion was outdated. The phones in students' hands were clunky.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t just any high school.

This was your high school.

His parents had met here.

And from the way the students around him carried on, oblivious to the fact that a future-born kid had just dropped into their reality, it hit him.

He had traveled back in time.

And then he heard it.

A voice so familiar it made his stomach twist.

“Oi, Carlos, did you see that goal? Absolute beauty, mate!”

Lucas turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

There, leaning against the lockers, laughing with a group of friends, was Lando Norris.

Not Dad, the grown-up who nagged him about cleaning his room and told embarrassing stories to his friends. No, this was seventeen-year-old Lando—loud, confident, grinning like he owned the world.

Lucas nearly choked.

Holy shit. My dad is a dumbass teenager.

You always knew how to make yourself invisible. It was a skill you had mastered long ago—sitting in the farthest corner of the library, keeping your head down, never speaking unless necessary. It was safer that way.

High school had been unkind to you. The whispers, the taunts, the stolen lunch money—they had worn you down over time, molding you into someone small and quiet.

You thought you were alone.

Until a chair scraped across from you, and a boy you didn’t recognize sat down.

You stiffened, gripping your book tighter.

“Uh… do I know you?” you asked hesitantly.

The boy—Lucas, as he introduced himself—smiled, easy and relaxed. “Not yet.”

There was something strange about him. He didn’t feel like a normal teenager. His gaze was too sharp, too knowing. And yet… when he glanced at your book and casually remarked, “Pride and Prejudice? Classic,” you felt your heart stutter.

Nobody had ever paid attention to what you read.

“You’ve read it?” you asked, voice skeptical.

Lucas smirked. “More times than I can count.”

A flicker of warmth spread through your chest.

You hadn’t had a real conversation with someone in months.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

Lucas had a problem.

His dad was an idiot.

A lovesick idiot.

And not for the right girl.

Her name was Jessica. And she was, in Lucas’ professional opinion, the worst person on the planet.

She was the kind of girl who faked sweetness when people were watching but turned venomous the second they weren’t.

And seventeen-year-old Lando was eating right out of her perfectly manicured hand.

Lucas watched in horror as his father practically tripped over himself trying to impress her.

“She’s so obviously playing you,” Lucas muttered under his breath.

Carlos, standing nearby, gave him a weird look. “Do you know Lando?”

Lucas coughed. “Uh, no.”

Carlos shrugged. “Then why do you care?”

Lucas clenched his jaw. Because if my dad doesn’t stop being a dumbass, I might never be born.

He had to fix this.

The first time Lucas tried to break them up, it was simple.

He “accidentally” spilled his entire drink on Jessica’s very expensive designer bag.

“Oh my God!” she screeched, jumping back like she had been set on fire.

Lucas put on his best innocent face. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Lando, ever the gentleman, immediately started panicking. “Jess, I’ll fix it, I swear—”

But Jessica was too busy throwing a tantrum about her ruined bag.

She stormed off.

Lucas grinned, satisfied. Problem solved.

Until the next day, when Lando was still mooning over her.

Lucas groaned. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Lucas wasn’t just here to make sure his parents fell in love.

He was here to protect you.

And it didn’t take long for him to see how much you needed it.

You never told him what was happening, but he saw it.

The girls whispering behind your back. The stolen lunch. The tripping in the hallways.

Lucas’ hands clenched into fists.

One day, he caught a group of girls sneering as you walked past.

“She’s so weird.”

“I heard she eats lunch alone every day.”

Lucas saw red.

“Funny,” he said loudly, making them freeze. “I was just thinking how weird you guys are.”

The leader, a blonde girl with too much makeup, scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You spend all your time talking about someone who doesn’t even know you exist,” Lucas said, crossing his arms. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Their faces burned red before they stormed off.

Lucas smirked. That’s what I thought.

Later that day, you hesitated before looking at him. “Why did you do that?”

Lucas shrugged. “Because you don’t deserve it.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. “…Thank you.”

Lucas softened. “Anytime, Mum.”

You didn’t hear that last part.

Lucas had to be tactical.

He orchestrated run-ins between you and Lando.

He got you both paired as lab partners.

He even tripped Lando once just so he’d fall into your arms (which earned him a very suspicious glare from his dad).

And finally, finally, Lando started to notice you.

Lucas saw it—the way his dad’s eyes lingered too long, how he smiled softer around you.

It was working.

Until Jessica struck again.

She cornered Lando after school, batting her lashes. “Landooo, come to the party with me?”

Lucas froze.

If Lando went, he’d fall right back into her clutches.

Thinking fast, he jumped in. “Oh, he can’t.”

Lando blinked. “I can’t?”

Lucas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Nope! He already has plans. With her.”

He pointed to you.

You turned scarlet. “W-what?”

Jessica scoffed. “Since when?”

Lucas grinned. “Since now.”

Lando looked at you, hesitant but intrigued.

“…I guess we have plans?”

You bit your lip. Then—shyly, hesitantly—you nodded.

“I guess we do.”

Jessica huffed and stormed off.

Lucas smirked. Checkmate bitch.

Days later, Lucas watched as Lando walked you home, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Lucas grinned.

His work here was done.

Now…

He just had to figure out how to get back home.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[yeoldenews]

A selection of Atchison, Kansas' most eligible bachelors of 1885 - for the perusal of those of you who find yourself matrimonially minded...

source: The Atchison Daily Globe, January 6, 1885.