Hi lovely was wondering if you could maybe write a stranger things one with Steve. The reader is dustins older sister and is a bit bitchy with Everyone and one night when Steve’s over she upset and he sees what she’s really like and that she is actually human haha ❤️
THE STRANGEST THING | endless drabble series (summer edition)
summary: steve has a thing for dustin’s sister
pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader
a/n: i love stranger things. there’s nothing i love more than stranger things. i want 100000 season’s of this series even if it turns into supernatural. i do not care. give me more. also, used prompt 5. warm, breezy nights, with this req mwah ty sm for sending it in <33
masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the summer prompt list!
part 2.
It’s a miracle. It has to be. Or...or, a tragedy. Something between the two extremes. Because Steve has seen many outlandish things happen at Hawkin’s, but this one takes the fucking cake.
He’s seen you angry. Seen you happy (a few times, maybe, he’s not to sure about that to be honest, he might’ve been hallucinating). Seen you cracking a joke or two at his expense (he wasn’t angry, they were funny, but then again, everything you say is funny and only to him). But he’s never, ever ever in the history of all evers, seen you upset.
It takes him aback. You Henderson’s are tough to crack, and to see you so visibly defeated is just uncanny.
You’re not the easiest to get along with. You’re a bit rude to their rag-tag team of heroes that save the world every other month without a thank you. A bit cold, a bit distant. A bit pretty, too, but Dustin would probably bury him alive if he was to ever speak it out loud.
From your bed, you notice him. Shit. You weren’t meant to notice him. He was supposed to be watching movies with Dustin in the living room, then going to the bathroom and not halting by your door. To be fair, you could’ve kept it closed. Then again, you probably didn’t think he’d be lurking around like some villain ready to spy on unsuspecting high school seniors.
That sounds horrible. He must explain himself immediately, “Just--” He waves his hand around, all smile and charm and perfect hair, “on my way to the bathroom.”
“Does this look like the fucking bathroom to you?” You snap back.
“Right.” He chokes out. Clears his throat. You make him stupidly nervous, “I just, uh,” He just what? The question is written all over your face and he’s already preparing for a lashing, “I was just on my way and...noticed that you seem a bit upset.” He smiles again, anxiously, trying to lessen the blow he’ll surely have to take after such a confession, “I thought it was strange, cuz, you know,” He motions to you, “you’re you.”
There’s a pause. He thinks he’s off the hook when, “The strangest thing is that nobody fucking asked, Harrington.”
Yeah, this isn’t going that well. At least he doesn’t have a thing for you, because that would make all of this worse.
You jump up and make your way to the door ready to shut it in his face but he’s quick to stop you, “Woah! Woah woah woah!” He raises his hands in a pacifying gesture, one that, surprise surprise, seems to work, “I don’t mean any harm, I swear.” Okay, you seem to be listening, so that’s a start, “You’re Dustin’s sister. You know I love that kid.” He admits this a bit quieter, partly because he doesn’t want the said kid to hear and partly because what he says is really fucking true, “And... so...” He shrugs. It should all be already obvious.
That angry spark seems to fizzle from your eyes. Your features soften and your shoulders droop and you look at him unguarded and okay--okay, right, he might have a thing for you after all.
“You can tell me.” He says, gently, afraid to scare you away, “If you want to, that is. I’m not forcing you or anything. Just...just, you know, you can always. Talk to me.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I dunno, maybe because I’m a nice person?” That got a smile out of you. Jackpot. A smile suits you better than a frown, but then again, everything looks good on you. He grins, “Okay, well, if you change your mind, I’ll be down the hall. Once I’m done in the bathroom. You should come join us, by the way.”
“I’m not into that nerd stuff.”
“(Name).” He says, wounded, hand covering his heart, “Don’t let poor Dusty hear that.”
“He’s well aware of that already, trust me.” You say with a small smile. There’s a pause of pleasant silence, then, “You should go before you pee your pants.”
“Yeah, I really should.”
And it’s not completely unexpected when you, despite not being into that ‘nerd stuff’, join the two of them on the couch and steal Dustin’s popcorn. You’re quite vocal about not understanding what’s going on. To be fair, Steve doesn’t understand either, but Dustin explains it pretty clearly. The movie is just the three of you talking. Laughing. Exchanging glances that don’t quite have a meaning yet.
Steve thinks that if all summer nights were like this, he wouldn’t mind. Maybe the three of you could go to a drive-in theatre on a balmy night like this. Or the two of you. He’s not about to say it, but if Dustin was to, let’s say, not tag along, it would be better. A whole lot better.
“Dude!” One, singular pop-corn hits his cheek. He blinks. Dustin is glaring at him, “Stop staring at my sister, it’s fucking creepy!”
"I wasn’t staring!”
“Like fuck you weren’t!”
“It’s fine, Dustin,” You say, “maybe he just had an aneurysm.”
“What the hell, (Name)?” He hisses. Dustin laughs.
Yeah, he’s not taking Dustin to the movies. Fat-fucking-chance.
They’re out of popsicles. The cardboard box is empty, and when she checks the rest of the freezer, there’s nothing but frozen casseroles. She puffs her cheeks with air and loudly closes the freezer door. Shiro and Kuro buzz around her, asking her what’s wrong.
“There’s no more,” she pouts, and they let out sad, little chirps. She feels the exact same way.
Then she spies an old grocery list on the refrigerator door and remembers that Lux is at the store right now. With a merry grin, she pulls out her phone and finds Lux’s name in her contact list.
more popsicles, she texts. Then after a few seconds, she sends, pls.
Lux doesn’t reply for over two minutes. Jinx paces the kitchen, waiting for a confirmation, occasionally opening the freezer to see if new popsicles have magically appeared. They have not. Shiro and Kuro, tired of waiting, leave to play with Pix. Jinx impatiently taps at her phone screen, willing a text bubble to appear. When one does, she nearly squeals with joy.
what flavor do you want?
the fancy ones janna bought last time
they’re not on sale :(
Jinx’s own face matches the little emoji Lux sent. She really liked those; they were like ice cream on a stick but only they didn’t melt as fast. Her phone chimes, and it’s a picture of Lux’s left hand holding a box of labeled Ice Pillar.
it’s a new one. wanna try?
She scrutinizes the package. It looks like it’s from the same brand as the rocket popsicles Poppy usually buys, and she likes those.
ok
Lux comes back twenty minutes later, and Jinx excitedly hugs her, ignoring the two bags of groceries in between them. The treats she’s been waiting for all day are here.
THE STRANGEST THING 2: IT GET’S STRANGER | endless drabble series (summer edition)
summary: steve has it bad for dustin’s sister, like, he’s loosing it
pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader
a/n: ty babe ur wish is my command. prompt used: 19. sunglasses and sunburns
masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the summer prompt list! make sure to check out the summer features as well <3
part 1.
No beaches are anywhere near Indiana - this isn’t, sadly, California’s sunny skies - but there’s Lake Michigan some-fucking-forever hours away and that’s good enough. The resident travelers piled into Steve’s car are as follows: the man himself, donning an appropriately summery Hawaiian shirt, Robin in a pair of shorts and a tank-top with her nose covered in a generous amount of sunscreen, Dustin matching the driver’s apparel but with a twist - no one had expected the sandals and pure white socks, and you. You, in the backseat with Robin, with sunglasses and a pukka shell necklace. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you listen to your little brother tuning the radio and Robin talking anxiously about something with mild interest.
The best Steve can see of you is a frown when he glances at the rearview mirror. This trip wasn’t supposed to end up like this. You were supposed to be sitting shotgun. Dustin was not supposed to be invited. How did Robin show up is a mystery in itself.
He’s grown exhausted by the time you reach that damned lake. Sure, there were closer destinations, but when he offhandedly invited you, he had expected a long car ride where the two of you were alone, which would, of course, allow him to get to know you better. You’d laugh the way there and chat and then he’d respectfully ogle you in your swimsuit and maybe, just maybe, when evening hit, you would say, y’know what, Steve, you’re not so bad after all.
Cue hooking up in his car or something stupid along those lines, but hey, a guy can dream, right? You’re like, the coolest person he knows. Prettiest, too. This plan was doomed to fail, it was literally too good to be true.
Of course you extended the invitation to Dustin, maybe even by accident, after all, why would your brother’s friend just invite you without your brother? And it just so happened that you and Robin are on friendly enough terms for her to invite herself into the trip when you said, “Yeah, Dustin, Steve, and I are heading to Lake Michigan this Saturday.”
But here it is, Lake Michigan in all it’s glory. The heat had been cranked up and everyone is mingling in bikinis and tiny skirts and jumping into the water right after yelling a cool catchphrase. Gotta love America.
“Don’t you dare.” Dustin voices, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. You’re halfway through undressing and your hands halt their mission. Steve can’t see your eyes, but by the downturn of your lips he knows you’re annoyed already.
“What?” You question. Robin’s already lounging in her swimsuit and nursing a cold Coca-Cola, but no one seems to pay her exposed skin any attention, “It’s not like I’m gonna be naked.”
“Ewwww.” Dustin grimaces. Steve would, respectfully, of course, disagree, “Don’t make it weird. I’m just saying that you’re my sister. You can’t just prance around with a swimsuit when there are so many guys around.”
You make a surprised face, “Heaven forbid that, lil’ Dusty. I guess I’ll just overcook in my clothes.”
“That’s more like i-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. You throw your clothes in his face and rush to the lake. Steve’s eyes follow after your retreating figure before Dustin smacks him on the shoulder.
“Dude!” He whines, “Gross. Cover your fucking eyes, man.”
“Yeah, Steve,” Robin chimes, “cover your eyes. So not cool.”
No one gives a shit at Robin staring as well. How come he’s the villain again?
“I wasn’t staring!” He’s quick to defend himself. Caught in this terrible conundrum he quickly thinks of an escape plan. Aha! The lake! Can’t catch him there.
He’s taking off his clothes on the way there and having full on yelling match with your little brother. He’s not even sure what excuses he manages to blurt out, but they must be good enough because Dustin doesn’t follow after him to drown him. Maybe he’s just thinking of a revenge plan. His warning, “I got my fucking eyes on you, Harrington!” doesn’t bode too well. At least Robin seems to be enjoying herself.
The water’s heavenly and highly populated. Lot’s of pretty girls and jacked guys but none are of any interest to Steve. He’s searching for you, but he’s already neck deep and still can’t see you anywhere.
Someone pinches his side and he flinches and spins around. You emerge from the water with a laugh and smile and it’s almost like that dream he once had-
No. No no, you’re just a friend. He has this friendly thing for you, an innocent little crush all boys have on pretty girls. It’s nothing serious, nothing to warrant any attention or Dustin’s scrutiny.
He’s at a loss of words, though. So he just grins and splashes you a little and you yelp and skitter away, “Where'd your sunglasses go?”
“Dunno.” You say, “lost them somewhere.” You dive down and he can’t see you anymore. Someone, presumably you, brushes his side and his arm reaches to grab you but you grab him first. For a moment he sees the skyline and the next he’s submerged. In the green-blue water he sees your smile before surfacing for air.
“You’re gonna drown me, Henderson.” He warns when you break the surface of the water.
“Only unintentionally.” You say with a wink and disappear again.
No need to panic. You totally weren’t just flirting with him. He’s about to have cardiac arrest in water but it’s fine. You’re just teasing. Making a joke at his expense. You’ve always done that.
Wait, if you had always done that, then does that mean--
No, okay, stop. This is getting too much. His brain is frying. He has a thing for you. It’s not just a stupid crush, it’s getting bad, like, really bad. If you don’t accidentally murder him, then Dustin sure as fuck will. And with intention, too.
The afternoon slowly passes. He’s sunburnt laying on a towel and donning your sunglasses he managed to fish out of the water. Robin’s on her third cone of ice-cream chatting away about her upcoming band rehearsal. You’re listening to her sitting beside Steve. He both likes it and hates it having you so close.
Dustin was sent to bring back more ice-cream. It’s a mission he accepted gracefully. Without your little brother’s watchful eye, Steve feels a bit bolder. It’s nothing serious, just to test the waters, you know? Totally innocent, like, not his style at all.
His hand oh so casually inches to rest next to yours. He feels your hot skin against him and he fights back a smile when you don’t pull away.
“I don’t fucking like this, guys.” Dustin sounds, and Steve freezes.
“Don’t like what?” You ask, bored.
Dustin vaguely motions between you and Steve, “You two sitting so close. There’s not enough space.”
“For who?”
“God.”
This is both the best and worst day of Steve’s life.
hello :) can i request a Cedric Diggory x male slytherin reader, where hes a bully, but for some reason cedric falls for him and the reader starts having a soft spot for him?..
KNICK-KNACKS | endless drabble series (summer edition)
summary: a boy’s bag and it’s secrets
pairing: cedric x m!reader
a/n: loves it also used prompt 3. backpack
masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the august prompt list! make sure to check out the summer features as well <3
In the far off corner of the Hufflepuff boys’ dormitory there lays Cedric’s backpack, thrust between his open suitcase and a cluttered nightstand. The flap is open and the mouth gapes full of secrets - secrets shared between two rivaling houses that, perhaps, would never be so openly displayed if he wasn’t in a hurry to meet you.
It’s long past evening and the sun rolls down into the lake where you and he sit by the boathouse. The upcoming summer air is full of pollen. But back in the dormitory, in the mess of clothes and socks and scattered papers, the air is stuffy by the kitchens; clouds of dancing dust descend from the ceiling onto the yellow carpet. Laid in bed on sleepless nights, Cedric would wonder what the Slytherin common room was like: was it cold, damp, and shadowy, like the depths of the lake?
In his backpack, next to a hastily scribbled essay, there’s only one word scrawled in your neat handwriting: boring. That’s how it all started, with one adjective and a feedback session between Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. You had, somehow, gotten Cedric’s essay to fix, whilst he was given one of your housemate’s. You were never easily impressed nor all that friendly, and your lack of constructive critique left a sour taste on Cedric’s tongue. He recalls seeing you there, sat among your peers, watching him with slight interest, as if to say, what shall you do?
Pressed between the pages of a Herbology textbook was a flower Cedric had grown and you had trampled. It was a rainy day, and the blow to his shoulder as you pushed past was no gentler than the wind outside the greenhouses. The flower fell, crushed under your feet, left with an imprint of dirt and your sly smile.
There are many things like these in his bag: a burned quill, a torn scroll, crumbled notes of him getting hit by lightning.
But there are also your Quidditch gloves given to him when his had worn out; the course synopsis had written and shared with him to study; a bottle of your expensive ink and a few letters you had written him that he rereads each night before going to bed. Those he’s afraid that someone someday may find and expose whatever it is that has grown between you - an affection that’s not easily described, despite your efforts.
You’re the youngest son, a sensitive creature, even if you hide it well behind a dull expression and sharp eyes. And your touches are always careful and precise, like a musicians. Cedric thinks you’re a better spellcaster than Quidditch player, but he’d never say it aloud - it would probably upset you.
He thinks he might love you, but he isn’t sure of how to tell you yet. With you, and the lake, and the sunset, times comes to a standstill as those words freeze between his lips. But you look at him and he thinks that you know, somehow, that you have it all figured it out. And it calms him, makes him relax in your presence. Your hand gently lays on his. He would gladly hold it forever if you let him.
Hiii! Can I request a imagine where the reader and Steve are dating but the reader gets jealous of Nancy bc she knows he was her first? She probably heard the phrase "You could never forget ur first" and gets scared Nancy is still into him or they still have romantic feelings for each other.
I DON’T KNOW IF IT’S A LIE OR IT’S A FACT | endless drabble series (summer edition)
summary: why does nance have to be so perfect - she’d be awesome if she wasn’t steve’s ex
pairing: steve harrington x gn!reader
a/n: steve x nance aint working for me this szn so time to change the plot <3 used prompt 20. poolside, with trauma
masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the summer prompt list! make sure to check out the summer features as well <3
“You never really forget your first love, you know?”
Whoever said that - the host of a popular talk show, a passerby on the street, the girls that used to make fun of you at middle school, the cashier, a student, your mom - can go right ahead and fuck themselves because they just ruined your whole evening.
You’re not one to hold grudges or succumb to fits of jealousy, but that lousy line heard once-upon-a-time-ago suddenly starts making a lot more sense than it used to when you look at Nance. She, of course, doesn’t mind you staring, because she doesn’t see you since she’s too busy looking at Steve.
He’s a clueless hotshot as always, chugging beers and singing loudly and somehow migrating closer and closer to the edge of the pool. You had been worried that he might slip and fall a minute prior until you noticed that you weren’t the only one giving your boyfriend such undivided care and attention.
This party just went from alright to fucking tragic.
Something acidic bubbles in the back of your throat and you know that it has nothing to do with the drinks you shouldn’t be drinking. It spreads, it seems, from your throat to your lungs and makes it hard to breathe; travels further down your stomach till you feel only sickness and a pinch of anger. And as the poison flows so do your thoughts, obscene scenarios and what ifs and terrible occurrences where you realize Steve didn’t like you nearly as much as you thought he did.
...Yeah, no. The jury is still out on Nancy’s feelings for Steve, but the guy adores you, there’s no doubt about that.
He’s already turning in your direction to wave you over and possibly pull you into a dance and you’re half-way into a grin before the color drains from your face as he slips and falls and splashes into the pool to the sound of people laughing and gasping in surprise. There’s some flailing in the water. No one really rushes to help him since it’s pretty funny - he’s not drowning either, just laughing, but there’s something red on his face that drips and mixes into the chlorine, and now you’re more worried than amused.
You and Nancy seem to share some telepathic lane because the two of you move in unison to drag him out of the water. But when she notices you - or, maybe she just sees the way Steve looks at you - she falls back and you’re the only one to kneel by the poolside and offer your hand to him.
He’s laughing. He’s drunk. His eyes are gleaming. He grasps your extended hand and slowly, clumsily tries to get out of the water. Blood drips on the tiles. What the hell happened to his nose?
“Are you okay?”
“What? Me? Of course!” He says as he sits down, “What? Oh, this?” He points at his nose, “Pshhh...” He waves it off along with your concerns, “Just a scratch. Don’t even feel it.”
“U-huh.” You nod, not really believing him, “Sure looks like it, Stevie.”
“C’mon, don’t you believe me?” He throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you closer. He smells vaguely like his cologne and chlorine, “I’d never lie to you.” He adds quieter, and you know that he means it.
You want to kiss him.
Good thing you have every right to.
But before you have the chance to land on on his lips he snickers and pulls you into the water. The sound of hoots and more reverberating laughter is drowned out suddenly. Your eyes sting but you keep the open long enough to see him smiling. You don’t have to kiss him. He kisses you.
Ma'am, please, spare some angst/fluff with eddie munson please
ALL THE THINGS YOU’D SAY TO ME | endless drabble series (summer edition)
summary: now what would happen if two extremely bored friends decided to imagine what it would be like if they were dating
pairing: eddie munson x reader
a/n: ... you’ve charmed me. used prompt 13. heatwave
masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the summer prompt list!
“C’mon,” He says, but quietly, without his usual bravado, “humor me.”
It’s just mild enough to breathe in the shade of the tree canopy. Eddie’s sprawled on his back next to you, hair a matted nest of curls that he keeps pulling away from his face. Your sit on the peer’s edge with your feet dipped into the water - cool lake, cool shade, you might just live to see tomorrow after all - and your mind is clouded in a pleasant, balmy daze. It’s the heat. It’s insufferable, makes everyone delirious.
His hand nudges your elbow, “Ground control to major (Name).” He doesn’t sound all that grounded himself, “This is ground control to major (Name), do you copy?”
You crack a smile, “I thought you don’t listen to that stuff.”
He shrugs, but ceases his pestering, “I heard it on the radio. It’s fine, I guess. A bit whiny.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Humor me.”
“Thought I was already doing it.”
“You know what I mean. Humor me, c’mon, it’ll be fun.” He sits up slowly, and once he does, his face scrunches as if he had eaten something sour. You have a moment to laugh before he hides his face in his palms, “Jesus fucking Christ I think I just blacked out for a second.”
“It’s official,” You say, grinning from ear to ear, “the heat has melted your brain. It’s gone.”
“Do I qualify as damaged goods now?”
It’s amazing, the way he makes you laugh. It always happens and it’s always expected but you’re caught off guard still. A pleasant silence follows your fit and when the water settles and a breeze wheezes by you start recalling what he had asked. It’s stupid. And probably not a very good idea. Maybe the worst one he has ever had.
But you’re just bored and curious enough to think, hey, what’s the worst that can happen?
He’s looking at you now, and there’s an inquisitiveness to his gaze, a sharpness that you aren’t used to seeing. You shake your head, “I don’t know what I’d say to you.”
It switches in a blink of an eye and you’re seeing Eddie again, the Eddie everyone sees, the strange, theatrical goofball with his dramatic motions, “You don’t know?!” He’s on the verge of tearing his hair out, or perhaps the heatstroke finally caught up with him. He slumps to the side and almost into the water before your hands pull him back to safety, “How can you not know!”
“I just--I dunno! I’m not, like, that good at thinking on the spot.”
He looks into your eyes, and the heat really starts making the world spin, “Just...lie, then. Make something up. I believe in you.”
He always does. He’s the only one.
If the woes of completely 100% platonic friendship were replaced with romance, what would you say to him? That you like it when he smiles? That his eyes are pretty? That he’s good at playing the guitar?
No, it’s not that simple. You do like it when he smiles, but most of all when you look at him and he’s already looking at you and the corner of his lips is quirked upwards and then you know that he will say something that will make you laugh. And when he says it he looks away and glances back to make sure that you’re laughing and looks away again when you do.
You like it when he looks for you in crowds and looks at you during his concerts or when you’re giving a presentation or when he’s playing the guitar for your ears only in his bedroom. They’re gentle, round, a happy brown color that makes you wonder if anyone else sees him the way you do. There’s a knot in your stomach when you think that they do. Someone has to. He’s just so... so...
“So?” Eddie urges, unnerved by your silence. You continue staring, “Is there something on my face?”
“What? Oh, no, just your face.”
“Admit it.” He says, “You got lost in my eyes.”
“Yeah,” You say softly, and his suave expression falls, “or at least that’s what I’d say. If we were dating.”
He gulps. Turns away. Watches the water for a solid moment, “Friends can get lost in each others eyes.” He mumbles.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” He shrugs, “I get lost in yours all the time.” He backtracks quickly, maybe even panics. It’s hard to tell when he’s being serious. He’s too good at playing pretend, “Not in, like, a weird way or anything. Just like, you know...in a nice friend way.”
But the damage is already done. His words bury deep between the muscles of your heart, lodged there. You’ll have to get used to their intrusion.
You finally get his insistence to play this game, only for a different reason.
You’d like to know; would like to dream for a moment. Imagine what it would be like dating your best friend. What he’d say to you.
Had he been wondering the same thing?
...Nah, can’t be. He’s Eddie, and you’re you, and that’s the way it has been since eight grade and it won’t change anytime soon.
Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to play after all.
“Forget it,” He rubs his face with his hands. Slides closer to the peer’s edge, “it was stupid.” And disappears under the water with a loud splash.
Stupid.
Stupid.
It was stupid. It’s probably the heat, making you feel weird.
could you write something for robin buckley my beloved
FADE INTO YOU | endless drabble series (summer edition)
summary: it’s a “girl best friend” sleepover
pairing: robin x f!reader
a/n: i used it with the prompt 24. vacation. btw totally unrelated note robin is so pretty <33
masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the summer prompt list! make sure to check out the summer features as well <3
You’re parched. Wake up from a fuzzy dream because it’s hot and you’re sweaty and tangled into sheets and limbs alike.
Your room is bathed in early morning sunshine peaking from underneath the curtain. The windows are open to let the fresh air in. It’s still a sauna. The room is ablaze with fiery colors and blurry contours and you groan and shut your eyes and try to remove the arm that you had last felt at least 2 hours prior.
Summer vacation means going to bed past the witching hour and eating ice-cream for breakfast; it means shorts and sandals and bike-rides and bruised knees; it means lake water up the nostrils and Coca-Cola chapstick; it means your bedroom is no longer yours anymore. It’s a communal space, the property of your closest friends to visit and stay for as long as they please.
Robin’s a good friend. She sleeps in your bed more often than she does in her own. And it’s the heat from her body and her breath on your neck that most likely woke you up in the first place.
Her hair is a mess and there’s dried drool on the corner of her mouth. You crack a smile, take in her lovely features: dusty freckles, curled lashes, rosebud lips. She’s beautiful, even like this. Maybe most like this. You couldn’t tell her, though, how could you even begin to say it? You decide to keep it a secret, add it to your catalogue of admiration. It’s the little things that she does, or doesn’t do; it’s the small expressions, hushed whispers, intertwining fingers when one or the other gets too excited.
In the wee hours of the morning, you come to a conclusion that neither summer nor life would be the same without her. It’s not a staggering thought, rather a miniature realization, the puzzle pieces clicking together in harmony. You’d always known, only never realized, maybe never appreciated it. She’s wonderful, truly, the best - how can someone feel so close yet so far at the same time?
She doesn’t stir, only nuzzles closer, and it’s still hot, and you’d like to have a drink, but you can’t pull away, don’t want to. So you stay put, with numb arms and stiff fingers and an odd, light feeling in your chest. You close your eyes still smiling. Whether you fall asleep or not you no longer care.
It’s just...being with her. Holding her. You want to do it for longer.
