#freak.

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮: sweethearts tend to wear it on their sleeves

౨ৎ 𝘈𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘻𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬-𝘧𝘪𝘤゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; heart to heart mac demarco

𝐟𝐭 ; august stilza

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐞 ; its like the worlds slowest race, who can confess last?

𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ; gn!reader, swearing, holy fluff, maybe ooc, >1k words

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐬'𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; this is like a semi continuation of the drabble (here) but its not mandatory reading and things will be restated and elaborated on. Also, i like to chime in with my own two-sense as if I’m not literally the author, lmk how we feel about that.

Sat on his workbench, sprawled on the plush couch in the corner, or playing model in front of the mirror, there was just so much in here to keep your mind entertained.

It wasn’t uncommon in the slightest to find you in Auggies workshop, or ‘evil lab’ as he so lovingly called it. In fact, it was the second place anyone would check for you after the kitchen.

I mean c’mon, all the good stuff is in here.

Namely August himself, but you’d be a fool to say that out-loud to anyone. Especially to someone that would mock you as viciously as he would if he ever found out about your little (okay, HUGE) crush on him.

Right now you were standing on the little platform with those full body mirrors and the stage-lighting, this is where he’d put you to ‘repay’ you for your treats. You yourself had a little plate with that apple-pie you’d baked him, taking little bites as he worked on/around you.

He was yapping away, as usual, while neglecting his mostly eaten pie on his table just behind him while you silently indulged in the treat.

Not that you ever minded his rambles, he spoke enough for the both of you. Especially in times like this,

“I really cant even believe theyd let her outside wearing something so hideous, atrocious, its a crime against fashion. It did the opposite of compliment her! It- it was a- a-“

“‘An insult to her beauty’?” You guessed, he was kneeling to your right, pinning folds of fabric in place on your hip like you were some kind of mannequin. You were good at standing still and he was taking full advantage of it right now to fit you.

“Exactly! Poor girl shouldve never taken that stupid contract- did that nip ya?” He looked up to see if he had accidentally poked you in his rambling state. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but after the third strike he’d been extra super careful.

When you shook your head no he stood, taking two big steps back to examine, then nodded approvingly.

“If she were anything like you, yknow, smart and whatnot, she’d have come to be styled be yours truly.”

You blushed like a school girl any time he complimented you. Yeah, you felt like a dork, but he ignored this as he continued to talk about something new.

Something about monkeys? Or that new washing machine? I don’t know, neither do you.

If you were being honest — and you really tried to be honest — you usually had no clue who or what he was talking about.

August had a tendency to ramble or get derailed mid topic, switching up out of the blue. It made conversations fun, and listening to him was better than anything else you could indulge in at HQ.

He plopped backward into his chair, hand aimlessly searching for the little plate of apple-pie you’d made for him as he looked you over with the eyes of an artist. Both the creator and the admirer respectively.

You looked in the mirror, gosh you’d never felt as pretty as you did when he was draping you. He really had a way with fabric. Of course that was no surprise, damn, are all your thoughts so gushy today?

It was no wonder what the inspiration was behind these overalls, they were clearly meant to match his and the sweater he had made for you just last week. It hung and hugged and swayed and sat in the most comfortable and sweet way. He really liked the idea of you and him matching outfits with your respective themes, that felt awful cute.

He chewed for a second, “somethings missing.” He stated as fact when he stood back up, coming to hover behind you, his eyes looking at you through the mirror.

So far it was following the mock-up perfectly, fitting you all comfy and snug. The colors were absolutely delicious too, complimenting your undertones and preferred buttery color-pallet and the last bite of pie on your plate.

“Missing?” You parroted, turning to check it over from other angles, “everything looks like its here, you followed the pattern and all,” you looked up at him in the reflection.

His brows were furrowed, “hm, no, no it’s not you enough. Theres not enough of my muse in my creation. But what could I-..” he circled you like a cat checking out a new scratching post. He had just claimed you in a casual sentence. Maybe im overthinking it but theword ‘my’ is a big hinter.

Please just let him like you back.

He stopped on your left, staring down at the spot where the pocket was going to be sewn in on your thigh. Your face felt like a furnace, only getting warmer and warmer the more attention he gave you.

He immediately dropped to his knees, grabbing you by your hip and steading you as he pulled some needles out of- hello? Red fabric? Scissors?

You shouldn’t be surprised by his seamstress spell casting anymore, but you were shocked at the collection he seemingly summoned nonetheless.

He didn’t even measure before cutting the red fabric, holding the patch up to your leg, then making adjustments with the scissors as needed, before he began pinning the fabric over that spot.

In the mirror, the way he was holding you still, you couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, only the cherry red blush on your face and his hand on your upper leg to keep you in place while he pinned and adjusted and pinned again.

His hand felt warm, big and firm but not harsh, he wasn’t keeping you from moving, he was grounding you while he worked, pins in his mouth and pink eyes fixated on his craft.

He was so painfully pretty, you had to keep yourself from flinching lest he think he’d poked you with his pins.

You finished off your slice of pie in an attempt to distract yourself, but he was being so strangely quiet, he was so locked in on you that you couldn’t help the stutter in your heart.

You look so awkward, holding your breath all red-faced with your empty plate, it was kinda killing you before Augusts hand left your hip, holding it out expectantly before taking the dish and putting it aside for you wordlessly.

Oh don’t swoon. Don’t you dare.

So what if you were one of the only people he did ‘silent favors’ for?

Helping with the oven, moving things for you, making you clothes.

Little things got to you the most, little things like his hand coming back to your hip like it was a resting place.

For whatever reason you felt bold, just this once. Well just bold enough for your hand to shakily outstretch and rest in his long, silky, perfect blonde hair. Wow. What a crazy move, man. You’re such a crackhead omg.

A shiver ran straight up your spine, making him look up at you with those pretty pink eyes, “did I getcha?” He asked.

Fuck, did this look like you were trying to stop him?? That was like the opposite of what you wanted.

Oh my god you were locked in place, you couldn’t pull your hand away if you wanted to (which you really didn’t). So now you had to use your words like a grown-up.

“N-no.” You whispered, god this was terrible, “I uh, just wanted to touch you,” you breathlessly admitted, no air left in your lungs at this point. You were such a dork, acting like you’d just run a fucking marathon because you’d put your hand on his head.

It wasn’t even the first time youd ever touched August Stilza, but for whatever reason it felt like the first time that counted. To you, at least.

And there it was, that shit eating grin spreading across his face, “touch me, eh? Do whatcha want, Sweetheart,” he cooed with a laugh that turned you cherry red from tip to toe. Was he mocking you? God damnit, you knew this would happen, you tensed for more but

His hand on your hip tugged you just a little closer with a small yelp as he stared up at you, “though I am liable to return the favor.”

Is this flirting?

This has to be flirting.

Should you confess now?

Would that make it awkward?

Fuck why cant he just do it for you.

So now you’re just starting at him, mouth agape like you’re trying to say something but your stupid monkey brain is at like 1000 ping due to his proximity.

His hand slide up just a little to hold you by the waist as he looked up at you at your feet, all pretty like.

“Go ahead, you can do it,” he encouraged.

See even he can see through you, you’re that fucking obvious.

Well shit, he already knew you were crushing on him big time. Whats the point of keeping it a ‘secret’ now.

“I love you.” You didn’t hesitate, the words tumbling out of you like a fawn taking its first steps. Shaky and unsure.

His eyes widened at the wording.

Maybe ‘love’ was too strong.

Was it?

You thought August loved passion-

He stood up now, he was tall and lanky as opposed to your stalky-er build. The man was truly a walking stick under all those clothes. You love it, you know you do.

He looked down at you with a smile so wide it might break his face, “you didnt put nothing in that pie, did ya, Sweetheart? You’re feeling so brave today,” he commented, hand still holding you by the waist.

You didn’t put anything in that pie, but you did feel a little tipsy off of all this affection and attention he was paying you.

Well you were, now you just felt like a little kid being bullied at the playground, all jello in the knees as he looked down at you.

“Listen, Sweets, ain’t gotta be bashful with me, huh? You know I love you,” he chuckled, one hand taking yours to twirl you like he always did before pulling you back against him.

Verbal confirmation! Yes! We love verbal confirmation!!

You realized now you could see the spot he was working on if you looked in the reflection. On your hip was a giant strawberry gingham heart that made work as a huge pocket.

You giggled at the sight, how cheesy was that. A heart? A red heart at that?

“Hey, hey, dont judge.” He smiled, his gloved fingers snaking between yours, “I figured, y’know, Sweethearts like yourself tend to wear their hearts on their sleeve, yeah?”

Yeah, that made sense, but why the hip-

“Why the hip?” Yeah, okay cool, just say that out-loud too I guess. Whatever I’m just the narrator.

“Well one, the sweaters already done. Two, being a classic Sweetie doesn’t mean youre like the rest of them, babe.” He shrugged.

“You said that like you had a third point,” you pointed out with a cheesy smile. God this was so romcom.

“Three, you just have such nice legs-“

You cant help but let out that laugh he loves so much,

“Hey! Hey! I said don’t judge! C’mon!” He tried to defend himself but he’s laughing just as hard as he dips you.

God this is like a cult classic. The two of you are so cute like this.

“Anyway, cats out of the bag now, Sweetness, so are you gonna be mine or what?” He asked, his long blonde hair falling around your faces like a curtain that separated the both of you from the world.

You’d never been one for words, and you were already love-drunk and bold, so to respond instead you took his face in your palms and pulled him to you.

You kissed him soft, and he returned it with just as much energy as an electric fence.

And who are you to deny a man — your man — such a treat?

You both tasted like apple-pie and when you (unfortunately) had to pull away and met eyes again, you felt like everything in the world was right just this once.

𝐓𝐚𝐛 ; oh em gee you guys are together now thats so cute. Again, lmk how we feel about my snarky ass intruding on your fluff, sometimes i just cant help myself. Anyway im not gonna continue this specific plot line but youre in so much luck bc i have like so many august requests I’ll be working on now anyway :). OKAY MUCH LOVES SWEETHEARTS MWAH MWAH.

xxxx,

- 𝒫𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁

qaypierre design. he also has a respirator and a hardhat and headphones on Standby.