#“from now take not of the signs of your wish one by one”

[ruruumin]

take my body back.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x childhood friend! fem! reader.

⤷ swapping bodies with isagi was not on his things to do, but loving you is.

this might have been either the worst thing imaginable, or the most humiliating. he is looking at himself in the mirror, eyes twitching. he brings up one hand to pull down the underside of his lower eyelashes. 

after crashing into each other during a practice game, isagi and rin had mysteriously swapped bodies. with stifled laughter from the rest of their team, they had to stay within the same infirmary until things settled down. ego chalked it up to being a very rare malfunction in their suits. while he works on a solution with anri, the two were dismissed from practices all together.

isagi was the more panicky of the two. he was looking at himself frantically in the mirror, shaking bachira by the shoulder in a frenzy. he couldn’t go home. not like this, he kept saying. even though isagi’s wish of being taller and physically stronger, he did not mean he wanted to be in rin’s body.

“what is so wrong with my body?” rin asks, albeit in isagi’s voice, coming off higher pitched and squeakier to his ears. 

“nothing!” isagi instantly shuts his mouth. he raises both of his hands, waving them around as he looks in all sorts of directions. being in the wrong body felt so weird. hearing rin’s voice come off as shy and embarrassed was the last thing on bachira and nagi’s bucket list. and god did they take pleasure out of their torment.

“its just that—how are we supposed to go back to our normal lives like this?” he confesses, scratching the back of his neck, “if i show up to my moms doorstep she’ll get the wrong idea!”

rin blinks slowly, a dull look casting over isagi’s body. “stop making such a big deal out of it. it’ll be fixed soon.” throwing a towel over his shoulder, rin is about to leave the locker rooms (in his body) before isagi reaches out to stop him.

“what about your girlfriend, what is she going to say?”

now this is the unfortunate reality. 

he has no idea how you will react to him going back home in a completely different body. and although you knew isagi in passing, he can’t just show up to your shared apartment like this. its a sick and cruel joke, he thought to himself. rin glances over to isagi with a hardened gaze.

him and his six foot body, long lower eyelashes and scowl are now being flipped inside out and upside down. seeing it as a different person and not just a reflection confuses him on unimaginable levels.

whatever he’s suggests next comes off like acid on his tongue.

.☘︎ ݁˖

you are shocked when you open the door. seeing two men, one of which is your boyfriend, and the other his rival, with opposite expressions. isagi is staring at you with a deep grimace while rin looks happy and relieved to see you. 

“let us in.” isagi, no, rin commands. 

“why is isagi here?” you ask, pressing your lips together as you step to the side. they shuffled out of their shoes, dropping them next to the cubby beside the door. “you should have told me if we were going to have guests over, i would have tidied up a little.”

rin’s eyes scans over your figure. you were wearing a plain t shirt and shorts, your hair was a bit of a frazzled mess, a clear sign that you had just woken up from your nap. he has half a heart to hug you right then and there, but touching you in isagi’s body is going to feel like poison. 

to his horror, you’re by isagi’s side, helping him take off his jacket. rin immediately reaches over to stop you, giving you a deadly glare.

“don’t touch him.” he warns.

this leads you to push him off to the side, frowning. “what are you doing?” in an accusatory tone, you peel off the jacket, “what has gotten into you, isagi? you used to be so polite.” 

“a-ah, well-” isagi bashfully looks away, “the thing is, i’m actually not rin.” 

“huh?”

rin pushes isagi away from you (god forbid he touches you in isagi’s body), huffing as he does so. feeling his chest through isagi’s hands is horrifically gross and he swears he will rip ego in half if he doesn’t find a solution quickly. 

after some short but confusing explanation from isagi, the two of them were seated on the couch while you stood over them. with a hand on your hip, you mumble something underneath your lips, trying to wrap your head around the strange phenomenon. 

“so my boyfriend is in...your body,” you point at rin’s body, dragging it over to isagi, “and you’re in rin’s body.” 

“that’s what we’re trying to tell you.” 

you flick rin’s forehead, causing him to deliver a sharp exhale, “this is your fault for not being more careful during practice matches. what happened to taking care of yourself? did it go in one ear and out the other?”

“of course not,” he huffs, brushing through his hair but noticing how much shorter it is now that he isn’t in his actual body. 

“this idiot over here was the one who got the yellow card.” 

“huh?”

isagi shoves a finger at rin, “you’re the one who rammed into me!” 

“can it!” 

the two of them start to bicker with one another. as serious as a head injury might be, you’re honestly flabbergasted seeing them together like this. it almost cracks a smile on your face when you see rin’s body soften. but you awkwardly clear your throat, breaking up the argument with a sigh.

“do you need a place to stay for the night?” you turn to isagi, “we can give you the couch to sleep on if you’re not comfortable going home right now. i think its the least i can do since rin has been so much trouble for you.”

before the man could protest at your words, isagi beamed with happiness and relief, “that would be great (name). i don’t want to overstay my welcome so i’ll leave tomorrow morning to see ego.”

“i can’t believe my rin rin can look this peaceful,” you say, swooning a little bit. 

“shut up,” rin claps a hand over your mouth, “all this nonsense is making me tired.” 

despite his harsh and seemingly cold words, you can read him too easily. the subtle touch on your shoulder is enough for you to decipher his wants, and what he wants right now is to unravel in your arms.

placing a hand on his lower bicep, you guide him into your shared bedroom, not before waving to isagi to tell him that you will fetch a warm blanket later. he nods and gives you few kind words. it makes you want to laugh at how obvious it was that they swapped bodies. rin can be polite to you, but never this polite. it makes the situation all the more entertaining when you feel your boyfriend drag you into your rooms.

away from isagi’s prying eyes, he is leaning his head against your shoulder, slowly exhaling. his chest moves up and down, shoulders racking down with shivers. you bring up one hand to pat him on the back, pulling him down from cloud nine. anymore of your warmth and he thinks he is about to sink into you. he has to hold back the urge to squeeze you because the body he is in is not his. 

its killing him inside how he wants to love you. 

you, his childhood friend and biggest fan, his light and first (possibly only) love. standing so cute and comfortable in front of him with eyes so warm it could melt his cold, popsicle-self into a pool of sticky wetness. he doesn’t mind that you aren’t dressed up. he thinks its even better, seeing you like this.

he doesn’t like how much shorter he is now. he used to be able to press a kiss on the top of your head with ease. now he’s...fun-sized, as he would put it. he lacks the arm muscles hes so used to having. he doesn’t have the confident suave he was born with (something you’ve always told was a birthright of the itoshi family).

it could have been worse, he tells himself. imagine he swapped bodies with igaguri or shidou. he would have thrown himself into the nearest river if he had to come home to you in shidou’s body. the thought alone makes him want to gag.

but with you in his arms, it makes his heart grow bigger. like the christmas grinch, he has finally found his happiness and the whimsical joys that come from being your boyfriend. its seriously killing him inside, he wants to kiss you with his own lips, hold you with his own arms, and carry you off into the distance in his body. 

you wipe away a string of tears that dribble down his cheek. he didn’t realize he was crying until he heard your gentle whispers. even though he no longer looks like sae, he misses his own body. he yearns to see the scowl on his face that he has grown to slowly love, only because you kept pressing kisses to his cheeks and dimples. he wants to see his hands on your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counters to hold you even closer to his chest, to kiss you at the same height.

he didn’t realize how much he has taken for granted until he was in someone else’s shoes. 

when you brush his, or isagi’s hair, he just wishes he could turn back the clock and kiss you stupid. steal the air from your lungs that he swore belongs to him, and him only. 

that night might have been the most strangest yet sweetest experience in the world. with isagi taking the couch and you and rin sleeping on the ground next to him (he didn’t want to sleep in an empty bed without you, and vise versa, he promises he wouldn’t let you be alone as long as he was here). 

hes holding onto your hand with his pinky, a subtle touch that sends warmth down his spine. even in a different body, you still love him.

and he loves you, so much that it hurts.

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

for @kultiras🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble @tinyloonyteacups @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @pretend-theres-a-name-here @dragoon-ze-great @warlordess @notaqueenakhaleesi @pukner

divider credit here

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🌁Pick a Picture:✨️❄️What wishes will come true for you?❄️✨️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

✨️Hello! I wanted to say thank you for being a part of my year and for supporting me so much, i am so thankful to everyone that took a little bit of their time to look into my page! I hope you guys have a Happy Holidays and i hope we can still be together next year <3✨️

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

🎀Masterlist🎀

⛄Pile 1: The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles and Ace of Cups.

Hi pile 1! You are my creative people, and this is a sign that wishes related to creativity, personal growth and the beginning of new projects are on their way to being fulfilled.

There is a vibration of creative abundance and personal power, I feel like you will be stepping into your power, you will be manifesting into reality a creative project that you have been working on for a while.

The next few months will be full of opportunities to expand your mind and your creative nature. If you were waiting for that moment to launch a new idea or project, get ready to see how the universe opens doors for you. This is a period of fertility and manifestation: everything you sow with your effort will manifest successfully. Do not hold back because of doubts, because your power of creation is at its peak.

Wishes that have to do with artistic projects, entrepreneurship or simply personal development will be aligned. Remember that abundance flows to you when you nurture your passions and follow your instincts. It's time to take action and trust your vision.

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 2: The Moon, 4 of Cups and Page of Wands.

Hi pile 2!, there is a strong energy related to love and emotional healing. This pile brings with it the fulfillment of desires linked to emotional healing and deep relationships.

If you have been looking for a deeper type of connection, whether in the romantic realm or in your friendships, this is a time of revelations and healing. You will have more hope, restoration and an energetic flow full of inner peace. Those desires related to the perfect relationship, reconciliation or the feeling of belonging will soon manifest. It is a time to trust that the universe will guide you to what is right for you.

This pile also speaks of the importance of listening to your intuition. If there is something you need to let go or heal, the energy of the Moon is really prominent in this pile, so it suggests that the desire for emotional release will come true. You have the ability to release internal blockages that have prevented you from living love in its purest form. Self-love will also be key in this process. I feel like a significant connection, especially a soulmate one is coming into your way pile 2!

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 3: Death, 8 of Wands and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! this pile indicates that you are in a stage of changes, where desires related to destiny and personal transformation are about to become true. You are going to experience powerful changes that represent life turns and success.

Desires that relate to important life changes and recognitions of success are aligned for you. If you have been waiting for a turn in your destiny, this is the time. Your guides tell you that the cycle is changing, and that what seemed uncertain will now become a golden opportunity.

It is a time of rebirth and evolution, you probably are in a transformative journey right now and its gonna pay off pile 3!

I also feel that wishes for prosperity, joy and success will soon come true aswell. It is time to shine and take advantage of the opportunities that the universe brings you. All that effort, those seeds planted with sacrifice, are now ready to grow and bear fruit, you are doing an amazing job, so trust yourself and soon you will live your dream reality step by step!

❄️Song:

✧˚.⋆Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!✧˚.⋆

Dividers by: @dollywons

[ducktoo]

So this is how it ends

Lee Chaeyeon x Reader

Note: wishing her the best in her recovery fr. Popping the disc is damn painful TT

A bit short and more melodramatic this time.

The apartment felt…too quiet. Too still.

For a moment, you wish the hum of the refrigerator or the faint ticking of the wall clock could drown out the silence hanging between you and Chaeyeon.

She sits across from you on the worn gray couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as if she's holding herself together. Her eyes are on the coffee table—avoiding you. The small, shaking breaths she takes tell you that this isn't going to end well.

“Chaeyeon-ah” you murmur, breaking the silence.

Her shoulders flinch. Slowly, she lifts her gaze to meet yours, and it stings. It stings because you know that look—the one where her brown eyes lose their sparkle, turning dull like they’re bracing for impact.

“I think… I think we should break up,” she whispers.

The words come out so softly, so hesitantly, it takes your brain a second to catch up.

Break up?

“W-What?” Your voice comes out hoarse, barely audible.

Chaeyeon squeezes her hands tighter, her knuckles turning white. “We’ve talked about this before. IZ*ONE… It's done. The group’s gone, and I—I need to focus on my solo career. I can’t… I can’t do that and keep this going.”

“This?” The word tastes bitter on your tongue. You stare at her, searching her face for any sign that she’s joking—that this is some cruel prank. “Chaeyeon-ah, we’ve been together for years. You can’t just—”

“I have to.” Her voice cracks. You see the tears brimming in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. She looks away again, blinking rapidly. “It’s not fair to you. I’ll be too busy to give you what you deserve.”

You let out a humourless laugh, though there’s no smile to accompany it. “So you’re deciding this for me? Like I wouldn’t understand? Like I wouldn’t choose to support you?”

“It’s not about understanding,” she snaps suddenly, and the sharpness surprises you both. Her chest rises and falls as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. “I need to do this alone. I have to. I need to prove myself, and I can’t keep being distracted—”

“I’m a distraction?” you interrupt, your voice trembling.

Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn’t answer.

The silence is unbearable now, heavier than before. You swallow the lump in your throat and run a hand through your hair, trying to process the mess of emotions twisting inside you—hurt, anger, confusion. You want to yell, to fight back, to say something that will make her change her mind. But when you look at her—Chaeyeon, sitting there with her tear-streaked face and trembling hands—you can’t.

You exhale shakily, leaning back against the couch. “So that’s it?”

She nods, barely. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that,” you mutter bitterly. “Don’t apologize if you’re the one walking away.”

Chaeyeon flinches again, and for a split second, you see it—regret. But she buries it quickly, biting her lower lip as she stands.

You don’t stop her when she walks toward the door. You don’t beg her to stay, even though every part of you wants to.

Her hand pauses on the doorknob, and she turns to look at you one last time. “Take care of yourself, please.”

And then she’s gone, leaving you alone in the apartment that now feels far too big, too empty—like something important has been ripped away.

The tears come before you can stop them, silent and steady as they trail down your cheeks.

So this is how it ends.

-

The cacophony of bustling production crews, whirring cameras, and chatter from staff surrounded you. It was just another day as a cameraman for Music Bank. You adjusted your headset and checked the focus on your lens, scanning the glossy stage set before the next performance.

"Alright, position four, get a wide-angle for the intro shot," your director’s voice crackled in your earpiece.

You nodded absently, though your attention was piqued when you noticed the name on the lineup for the day: Lee Chaeyeon.

You squinted at the monitor displaying her pre-recorded teaser clip. The name tickled something in your brain, but you couldn’t place it. She was a rising soloist, right? Her name had floated around in industry circles for a while, though you never connected the dots.

Moments later, the lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of her stage. You fixed your camera on the center of the stage, watching as the outline of her figure materialized behind the foggy haze. The soft melody of the intro cued the LEDs to paint the stage in hues of blue and white, bathing her in an ethereal glow.

When she turned to face the camera, your breath hitched.

It wasn’t just her. It was her.

You gripped the camera a little tighter, your fingers stiff. It was Lee Chaeyeon, your ex—the same Lee Chaeyeon who once laughed at your dumb jokes, held your hand like it was her lifeline, and left you in the aftermath of IZ*ONE's disbandment.

“Position four, stay steady!” The director’s voice cut through your sudden daze. You snapped back to reality, your professional instincts overpowering the storm of emotions clawing their way back.

Chaeyeon moved with the fluidity you always admired, her steps precise and her expressions sharp. Her choreography hit with a precision that sent the crowd into cheers, but all you could see was the subtle difference in her now. She was more confident, bolder than she had been years ago. The Chaeyeon you knew had always been a perfectionist, but there was something about her presence now that felt untouchable.

"Close-up, position four," your director ordered.

With a steady hand, you focused on her face, and for a fleeting second, her gaze locked with the lens—locked with you.

Your heart thudded. Did she recognize you?

The performance ended in a flourish of lights and thunderous applause. Chaeyeon bowed deeply, her smile dazzling the crowd as she caught her breath. You followed her with the camera as she exited the stage, the angle catching her wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. Your chest tightened as you remembered how you used to hold her face gently, brushing strands of hair away after rehearsals.

Focus, Y/n. It’s just another artist. Just another gig.

And yet—you can’t stop staring.

-

The show was on a break, giving you time to reorganize equipment and check over footage. Your hands moved methodically, but your mind remained miles away. Seeing her like that—so poised, so untouchable—made your chest ache in ways you thought you’d buried.

A voice brought you back to reality.

“Excuse me, is this where I can check the camera playback?”

You turned and froze. Chaeyeon stood there, her outfit changed into something more casual but equally stunning. She looked at you with a polite curiosity, her hands clasped nervously.

Your throat tightened as you scrambled for a response. “Y-Yeah, uh, over here.”

She approached, her eyes scanning your face. It was as if she was trying to place you, too.

“Thanks.” She leaned in to look at the monitor, her proximity flooding you with an all-too-familiar warmth.

You cleared your throat. “Great work out there.”

She glanced at you, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Thanks. It’s always nerve-wracking, even after all these years.”

There it was—that same vulnerability she’d let you see behind closed doors.

As she reviewed the playback, you couldn’t help but speak again. “You’ve come a long way since... IZ*ONE.” The name slipped out before you could stop yourself.

Her fingers paused over the monitor. Slowly, she turned to face you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. Then, recognition dawned.

“…Y/n?”

Your heart sank, and you let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Hey…It’s me.”

Chaeyeon’s expression flickered between surprise and something unreadable. “I didn’t think…” she started, then stopped. “It’s been so long.”

“Yeah.”

-

The silence that followed was heavy.

You ended up sitting together in a quiet corner of the backstage area, away from the chaos of staff and idols rushing about. The small table between you felt more like a chasm, holding years of unspoken words, lingering questions, and emotions you thought had been buried. Chaeyeon sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes flickering between you and the floor, like she was weighing every word before she spoke.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she started, her voice quieter now. “Last I heard, you were working in… film?”

You shrugged, keeping your tone neutral. “Things changed. Just like you, I guess.”

She nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah. A lot has changed.”

For a moment, silence fell between you. It wasn’t the comfortable silence you used to share, sitting side by side in cafes while you worked on your laptop and she doodled choreography in her notebook. This was heavier, filled with years of distance and the things you were both too afraid to say.

Chaeyeon looked up at you suddenly, her eyes sharp yet vulnerable. “How..um…have you been?”

You hesitated. The question sounded innocent, but there was something in her tone—something almost desperate, like she needed to know the answer more than you did.

“I’ve been… okay,” you said, the words feeling both honest and insufficient. “Busy with work, trying to keep up with life, you know how it is.”

She nodded again, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I’ve thought about you. A lot.”

The words caught you off guard, and your chest tightened. You hadn’t expected her to be so direct, not after all this time.

“Have you?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Chaeyeon let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Of course I have. Do you think I could just forget about you?”

The vulnerability in her voice made your throat tighten. “I don’t know, Chaeyeon-ah. You left so easily. It felt like I didn’t even matter...”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “It wasn’t easy,” she said, her voice trembling. “It was never easy.”

You leaned back slightly, stunned by the raw emotion in her voice. “Then why did you do it? Why didn’t you at least try to talk to me?”

She exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair. “I was…scared. Scared of failing, scared of holding you back, scared of ruining everything we had. When IZ*ONE ended, I felt like I was starting over from nothing. I didn’t know who I was without the group, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. You deserved someone who had their life together, not someone who was falling apart.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. For so long, you had convinced yourself that she had left because you weren’t enough. Hearing her now, seeing the way her hands trembled as she spoke, made you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I never wanted perfection, Chaeyeon-ah,” you said softly. “I just wanted you.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked at you with an expression so full of regret and longing that it made your heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

You stared at her, the raw honesty in her words stirring something deep within you. For years, you had carried the weight of your heartbreak, blaming yourself for not being enough. But now, sitting across from her, you realized that she had been carrying her own burden all along.

“I missed you,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I tried to move on, but… I couldn’t.”

Chaeyeon reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against yours. The touch was light, tentative, as if she was afraid you might pull away. When you didn’t, she let her hand rest on top of yours, her warmth grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t know if it’s too late,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I want to try. Even if it’s just as friends, I want you in my life again.”

You looked down at her hand, the memories of your past rushing back all at once—the late-night phone calls, the quiet moments of comfort, the way she used to look at you like you were her whole world.

Slowly, you turned your hand over, letting your fingers intertwine with hers.

“It’s not too late,” you said, your voice steady. “But…let’s not start as strangers pretending to be friends. Let’s start as two people who still care about each other and see where it goes, you know?”

Her eyes widened slightly, and then she smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up her face in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

“Mhm..” she said softly. “Let’s start there.”

For the first time in a long time, the weight on your chest began to lift. The past might still linger, but the future felt a little brighter with her hand in yours.

Maybe this time, you think, you’ll get it right.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🌟🎄 ALL CHRISTMAS CARDS HAVE NOW BEEN DELIVERED 🎄🌟

if you signed up for a christmas card from me then you should now have one in your inbox! if you signed up and you didn’t receive one then please let me know asap - i had a lot to send out and organisation isn’t my strong suit, so i’m a little paranoid i might have missed someone 😅 if i did, please know it was purely accidental and i will still of course send yours out!

i just want to take a moment to say how unbelievably touched i’ve been by the reception to this idea and also by the incredibly lovely responses i’ve had in return 🥺 it has been an absolutely joy writing all your cards and i feel so very lucky to be part of this little space 🫶 thank you so much to everyone who makes it what it is 💖 whether you signed up for a card or not, i’m wishing everyone who reads this the most wonderful christmas! 🎄✨❄️🎁

love and hugs,

lulu 💜

hii everyone! 🌟

as some of you might remember, i did fandom christmas cards last year - and it was so much fun i’ve decided to do it again this year!

writing christmas cards has always been one of my favourite things i do for friends & family at this time of year, and this is really just a virtual version of that! for me, christmas is a time for showing love and appreciation for the people you're grateful for - and i'm so, so grateful to everyone who makes up this wonderful little space here 🫶 it's not been an easy year for me, and i am so thankful for all the solace, fun and friendship this particular corner of the internet has brought me when i've needed it most. getting to log on here and flail with you all about am/tlsp/miles/fontaines d.c has truly been one of the highlights of my year 💖

so if you'd like to receive a virtual fandom christmas card from me with a handwritten message, then please reblog/leave a comment on this post and i will send you one before 24th december! 🥰

(to any of my non tlsp mutuals, you don’t need to be in the tlsp fandom to participate!)

[mountsmase]

Christmas Traditions

———————

Dad!Mason during Christmas is one of my favourite concepts ever. Just thinking about all of the things you could do with your little family, whether it’s your babies first Christmas, or they’re a little bit older and understanding what’s going on a little more.

Imagine taking your little one to meet Santa for the first time. Maybe it’s a bit of a Mount Christmas tradition to take the kids to meet Santa and give him their Christmas lists, you’ve been going to the same grotto with Mason’s nieces for years and you’ve been looking forward to the time you can finally take your own little one with you. And it’s finally the year.

Maybe by the time Christmas comes around they’re only about 10 months old so they’re obviously still too little to write their own list so you and Mason write one for them, signing it from all three of you ready to put in the little post box at the grotto you’re visiting. I can imagine them being a little unsure when you go in to actually meet Santa, Mason’s nieces are a bit more confident with him now they’re older and understand who he is but with your little one still being a baby they’re a bit more confused and when ‘Santa’ goes to hold them for a picture they get a little upset. Mason being the protective dad he is would quickly get the picture taken and swoop straight in to comfort your baby, taking another photo with everyone in it once they’ve calmed down more. You’d get the photo printed and put into a ‘first Christmas 2024’ frame, wanting to remember the memory forever.

It would be the best year ever starting new traditions as a family of three.

Now thinking about once your kid/s are a bit older…

For this concept I always imagine you having 2 children, one boy and then a girl that’s only a year or two younger. You’ve got loads of traditions that you’ve started throughout the years like going to pick out your christmas tree and going to a Christmas light trail/show, but I think the Christmas Eve traditions would be your favourite.

Mason would always want to make any day special for them, but when it comes to Christmas he’d step up his game and think of loads of things for you to do to make it special.

One thing would be getting the kids to sit and write out their Christmas lists to leave by the bottom of the chimney for Santa to find. You and Mason would of course already know what they’re asking for and would have it all brought and wrapped already, but would tell them that Santa needs to know what they’re asking for so he can leave the right presents under the tree when he visits. (Did anyone else do this as a kid or just me?)

You’d get them to do that in the morning so that it’s out the way and then you’d get started on baking cookies to leave for Santa as well, letting the kids decide what recipe they want to follow and letting them take full creative control with decorating them. You’d leave them out on a plate next to the chimney or fire (with the wish lists), a long with a carrot for the reindeer’s

After baking you’d go out on a little family Christmas Eve walk, heading to the local park that the kids love, to let them run around and let all of their energy out, Mason would also bring out his inner child and would run around with them for ages, pushing them on the swings, catching them at the bottom of the slide, and letting them play games with him until it’s time to go home. A bonus would be if it’s snowing and you can play in the snow.

Once you get home you’d make a quick dinner and then have a Christmas themed bath time, using Christmas scented bubble bath and getting out all of the Christmassy bath toys that you’ve collected over the years. I can imagine Mason would love doing bath time with them so you let him sort it out whilst you do some last minuet present wrapping.

Once bath time is over you get them dried off and let them open their first gifts. Before having children you and Mason always loved matching PJs at Christmas and it’s something he wanted to continue as a family because he knows how happy it makes you. So every year, on Christmas Eve, you wrap up their new PJs and some of their favourite chocolates, letting them open them after bath time as a little early gift from you and Mason. You’d get them changed into them and you and Mason would get yours on to before heading downstairs to watch a Christmas movie before bed.

You’d all snuggle up as a family with your chocolates and your Christmas Eve movie of choice would be something like the Grinch or The Polar Express. You’d watch it every year, never getting tired of the kids faces lighting up during the opening credits.

It’s these moments that would be Mason’s favourite as a dad. His whole world with him on the sofa, all full of energy and excitement about what’s to come tomorrow.

It takes a while to get the kids to bed, needing to open up Santa tracker to show them that Santa is too far away and there’s no point waiting up to try and see him, but when they do eventually give in they ask to have a sleepover so that they can wake up in the same room together tomorrow morning. It doesn’t take a lot of convincing from them and Mason very quickly says yes, never being able to say no to those pouty faces, and loving that his two angels want to spend as much time together as possible.

You get them tucked in, you and Mason reading them a book each before heading back down stairs just the two of you. You’d take the opportunity to spend some time just the two of you before deciding to set up for the morning, needing the kids to be completely asleep before you start bringing presents out to put under the tree.

Maybe you’d watch an episode of a show you’ve been binging because as much as you love Christmas movies, you’ve watched all of them already with the kids and it’s rare you get the chance to sit and watch anything just the two of you anymore.

Once you can be certain the little ones won’t wake up, you begin getting all of presents from under the tree. It’s safe to say they’d be spoiled. With loads of presents from ‘Santa’ as well as some addressed from ‘Mummy and Daddy’. You’d definitely be the more sensible parent when it comes to gift buying, having a little more self restraint. But you also could never say no to Mason when he’s getting excited about toys he knows they’ll love.

Once all the presents are under the tree you and Mason each take a couple of bites out of the cookies and carrots that you left out for Santa and his Reindeer, picking up the lists to so that it looks like Santa took them (you’d keep them as a memory, not having the heart to throw them away) and maybe you’d even write out a thank you note from ‘Santa’ and leave some footprints coming from the fire place, either with flour to look like snow or with some mud from the garden. It would give you even more to clean up in the morning but it would be so worth it to see the look on their faces when they come down stairs in the morning.

Then, once you’re happy with everything, you’d head upstairs and run through your night time routines before climbing into bed.

You’d lay in bed together and reminisce on the month you’ve had. It’s been one of the busiest of the year, but definitely one of your favourites. All of the traditions you’ve started over the years have made for some of your favourite memories and you and Mason both get a little emotional looking back through your camera rolls and photos from various different activities and outings you’ve done throughout the last couple of weeks.

We all know that Mason would be the best dad ever. And I definitely think he would try and make every Christmas more special than the last for you and his kids, especially as they get older and start understanding things a bit more.

———————

Day 10 Concept tomorrow night 🎄❤️

[brittle-doughie]

2nd attempt in sending this ask.

Integrity anon finally back, this has been sitting on my phone for months, mainly from procrastination and not being able to think of anything, took me listening to secret garden on loop to figure out how this would go but it's here now.

Y/n had been travelling for a few weeks after their departure from the village, they seem to be lucky cause it seems the next god is a little more closer to them than the Autonomy god. doesn't mean it's not far tho.

During Y/n's short stops in their journey, they realise that the flourishing plants grow much more faster and seem healthier than the average greenery back home, there also seems to be more animals than it should normally be, Y/n takes this as a sign that they're getting closer to their designation and so they continue their journey.

It's midnight now and the forest is still as lively as it was in the day, countless moths being attracted to Y/n's lantern(Y/n doesn't mind the moths, they find them beautiful), fireflies seen glowing in their peripheral vision, crickets are heard in the background, centipedes crawling on the forest floor, and bats flying in the night sky using echolocation to navigate their surroundings. They hear whispers after a few hours, and so they trek on.

The whispers quickly grow louder and a second later, they find a flourishing garden filled with nocturnal flowers with countless Nymphaeas floating on the water as a small water fall is seen at the back. In the middle of all the gorgeous plant life lies a statue of the Creation god, They walk towards the statue while being mindful of their steps as to not destroy any of the flowers, sits infront of the statue and falls asleep.

Y/n opens their eyes and is immediately greeted by the Creation god.

"Hello mortal cookie, I suppose your here from seeking me out with the guidance of a fellow god?"

Y/n, speechless by the beauty of the surroundings, simply nods. Before they could say their reason behind their visit, the Creation god interrupts them.

"*chuckles* Through your interactions with Truth and Autonomy, I already know your reason for being here little cookie, for your encounters with my fellow gods have strengthen our bond enough to be able to talk to each other once more, and this will be strengthen even more from interactions with two more gods."

The Creation god continues.

"Now then, walk towards me mortal cookie, I shall place my own emblem symbol over the mark of that beast cookie."

Y/n does so and an emblem symbol is placed over burning spice cookie's mark, removing it in the process. The emblem symbol is larger than the 2 previous emblem symbols, it appears on the entire front of the torso, it is an open egg with a fully grown tree sprouting out of it, with a seed in the middle of the tree trunk. It speeds up plant growth like trees or vegetables and ensures that the plants lives healthily.

"I wish you the best in your journey, mortal cookie."

Before the Creation god sends Y/n on their way, they speak once more.

"And I appreaciate you taking great care on where you step when walking in my garden, I have been nourishing both it and the forest with my abilities for more than a millennia. I'd appreciate it if you visit this place once in a while, farewell, mortal cookie."

And Y/n wakes up with an egg right next to them. The egg has a carved outline of a tree with a carved outline of a seed on the back, it can be cracked open and it will start to rapidly grow a fruit tree of one's choice, the tree's roots will also rapidly grow nearby plant life and will grow beautiful flowers of the respective area. Once the fruit is now fully grown, it can replenish strength when eaten, the fruit will not rot away so you are able to store the rest of the fruits for future use. When all fruits are picked off the tree, it will retreat back into the egg and the egg closes, ready to be cracked open again.

Y/n stands up as the compass points to a new direction, they watch where they step once more and begin their journey.

fun fact 1: This isn't too related to the story but basically I forgot about the soul jams. When I remembered them, searched them up and saw pure vanilla's I went "oh 👁️👄👁️" So now I went with pv's soul jam coming full circle with the Integrity of truth cuz why not.

fun fact 2: When the five integrity gods first learn about the beast marks they will at some point in their interaction with y/n, will inhale and do a long exasperated sigh like a parent dissapointed in their child.

Bonus:

I completely forgot to give a function to Autonomy's emblem symbol so here's a basic summary of it-

Autonomy's emblem symbol gives great amounts of physical energy, determination and perseverance when needed. This allows Y/n to surpass the strength limit of their body without consequences and be able to achieve what is deemed impossible.

Y/n was already op with the Truth god's emblem symbol, now with Autonomy's and Creation's emblem symbols? Yeah there's no way of defeating them, then again the emblem symbols are derived from powers of gods so it's reasonable on why having one already makes Y/n op.

-Integrity anon

I mean what can they do, really. Beasts like to mark what’s theirs with their own ways of doing so, Spice is just a bit blunt on that regard.

[mullermilkshake]

Twelve days of fluffmas

On the twelfth day of fluffmas, my true love gave to me...

Yakuza!Kento getting his Christmas wish.

Tags: Yakuza AU, Fem!reader, first meeting, unexpected and fate driven, spilt coffee,

"Coffee please. Thank you."

Kento's favourite part of the Christmas market stalls that lined the street were any that involved coffee. That and the type that served toasted sandwiches with his favourite bread.

Hot steaming coffee on his morning walk through the snow, icy breeze nipping at his cheeks, warmed coffee cup stopping his fingers from freezing and-

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Spilt coffee. All over his suit and coat.

Kento turned around slowly, padding his pockets for anything to wipe it up with before it stained and seeped through enough to burn him.

"That guy barged past me- but I should have seen where I was going..." it was you.

You who did not know he existed. You who had no clue how much Kento had watched you off in the background never getting the courage to speak with you. And here you were, right in front of him all glassy eyed because of a cup of coffee on his coat.

"I'm such a klutz..." your voice trailed off when you made eye contact and your head dipped down before you looked around for napkins. "I know someone who's really good at cleaning expensive suits, which I'm sure yours is- shit, I can have this cleaned."

Kento stood there speechless that you were stood there fussing over him and pulling napkins out to dab his coat. Instinctively, Kento drew his hand up to stop you and ended up cupping your napkin filled hand in his.

"Please, don't worry. It's only coffee," it was then he realised what he'd done, because your eyes widened and looked right up at his. "Sorry."

"No, it's alright," tucking a strand of hair away from your face, Kento noticed the blush in your cheeks. "I wasn't looking where I was going, it's totally my fault. Here-"

He watched you pull out a little note book and scribbled down on it. "Here's my home phone, call me and let me know what the bill is... and here's the address of the laundromat. She's a good friend of mine and she'll take care of you."

Not five minutes and you'd already given him your number and- Kento's eyes widened a fraction before he reined it in. Mei Mei was a prolific money launderer and everyone in the Yakuza world knew who she was.

So how did you know her? Were you aware of what she did behind closed doors? This coincidence begged the question as to how Kento never saw any link to Mei Mei whenever he saw you on the network cameras.

Perhaps he was slipping, it was true that he'd become burned out this close to the new year.

Kento never mentioned it, there was no need to. "Thank you, but I won't burden you with any bill for this. It's just coffee."

"I just feel so terrible, I'd be pissed if I got coffee all down me."

He realised just how cool he was being. No way in hell did he ever think he would react to you meeting by accident like this. Though now he was thinking about it, Kento felt himself shift uncomfortably and noticed he'd just been staring at you.

"Uh, it's really no bother."

By the relief splashed across your face, you were intent on leaving shortly and took one step backwards.

Yet you didn't lead the conversation that way. "I insist, really. But I'd like to buy you another coffee," your eyes paid him attention closely. "Or maybe lunch if you're not in any rush? I feel awful, it's such a beautiful suit."

A lunch invitation and compliment? Did you not know what sort of life he was leading, or what people he affiliated himself with- who you were being affiliated with? You should have known the moment you laid eyes on him. Most people suspected.

Yet you showed no signs of distress.

"Please?"

And now you were practically begging him to go with you. Kento contemplated all the times he'd talk down to himself for not pursuing you and how much of a bumbling idiot he would have been. There was nothing bumbling in the slightest.

Just long drawn breaths and pauses he used to figure out what to say though it flowed off of his tongue naturally like a waterfall into a lagoon.

"Alright, but I'll buy lunch."

You smiled sweetly and nodded. "Then I'll buy the coffee."

"It's a deal."

Kento let you lead through the stalls though it was really a chance to soak you in and let the realisation in that he'd just had his first conversation with you. A conversation he had agonised for months over.

"I know a really nice stall. It's off the beaten track a little, but I promise that it's great. It's only ever here at Christmas," once the stalls had dispersed along the street, you pulled back and matched his pace.

"If you recommend it, I'm sure I'll enjoy it," Kento was never a fan of group meals of crowded places to sit down and eat in.

A stall where he could sit off to the side was perfect. Especially uninterrupted time with you. Kento could not believe his luck.

"It has some of the best fried chicken I've ever tasted but if you prefer something different, the stall next door serves raw fish which just melts in your mouth..."

You stopped right in your tracks and watched Kento as he turned. "I'm talking too much. I apologise... I'm talking to a stranger with so much familiarity. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable," you bowed like Kento did not enjoy it.

"Not at all," he was quick to reassure you. "I admire enthusiasm. I never would have known where the best fried chicken was if you hadn't told me."

Kento took the information on board. Ino was partial to fried chicken every now and then.

He listened to that sweet little chuckle leave your lips. "That's good, otherwise I would have been a weirdo that talks too much and spills coffee on people."

"You're no weirdo..." You never heard him say that and carried on walking. For a moment, Kento watched you leave with a quickness in his breath.

Some would say he made a Christmas wish. But in reality, it was fate. A thing he never believed in until now.

And all it took was a little coffee spilled on his coat.

I was going to wait much longer for Kento and reader to meet, but it's Christmas and I'm feeling all fuzzy inside. THEY MET AT LAST.

Me rn writing this stuff.

[rottenherbs]

A Weasley Holiday (pt.2) // G.W x reader

Summary: After you arrived to the Burrow, you awoke from a quick nap for dinner. Afterwards everyone rushed outside to build a snowman, you and George more interested in other plans.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: SHORTY! Ive been busy with work and the holidays! Lots of socializing — Anyways, I have been slowly working on pieces as i can, not as fast as i could a month ago! But after the holidays ill be more inclined to whip out pieces like you’ve never seen. Thank you for reading!

[masterlist] (part one here <-)

Much Love, Saige

————————

You woke up from your slumber by your cheek being softly caressed. You didn’t dare open your eyes, too blissfully comfortable and warm underneath the sheets. You attempted to keep your eyes closed, enjoying every last touch George's fingertips gave you.

“Darling come on. It’s supper time, and mum made your favorite.” He whispered, his fingers now brushing your hair around your face. He admired how you looked in his bed, wishing he had gotten into bed with you earlier.

“She made Shepard pie?” You asked, your eyes glimmering up at George. He laughed lightly, his hand still cupping your cheek nodding in affirmation. He slipped a hand under the blankets peeling them back from your body, urging you to get up. You shivered dramatically, your once toasty body now exposed to the elements.

“Here you little freeze baby.” George turned and walked to his closet, searching meticulously for something to give you. You pulled the covers back over you, tucking your chin playfully as you waited. He rummaged for a while before turning and holding up a tattered sweatshirt. It had a large Hogwarts crest on the front, the imagery worn beautifully down. You reached out your hands excitedly, happy to wear any piece of his clothing.

“It’s from 5th year….a little tight on me now” He shrugged, turning back to the closet to pick something out for himself. Slipping it over your head, your arms snaked through the sleeves holding them up to your nose and inhaling deeply. It was reminiscent of his old cologne, one that he didn’t typically wear anymore. So nostalgic and sweet.

You eventually got out of bed and walked down the winding staircase to the kitchen, now bustling with activity. Harry arrived as well, taking a place at the table sending you a casual wave over. You and George broke off, you going towards the dining table and him off to help his mum in the kitchen.

“It’s so nice to see you here y/n.” Harry smiled, scooting over on the bench to make room for you. You gladly sat down, looking around the space once more.

“I’m so happy to be here.” You said breathlessly. Every minute felt like a dream. Like a true vacation in a quaint little home with your friends and family. This is what the holidays were about.

”We're gonna go out after supper, try to make a snowman if you’d like to join?” Harry asked, picking up his glass of water. Taking a sip, George bounded over before you could respond.

“Sounds like potential for a snowball fight.” He raised his eyebrows looking over at you. “Were in”.

You just shook your head, happy to participate anyway. Harry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, all three of you enveloping into small conversation about the plans for the remainder of winter break.

Dinner was wonderful, and Mrs. Weasley berated you after you called her Mrs.Weasely attempting to give compliments to the chef.

“Call me Molly dear, please. I might as well pitch up a sign on the door for everyone.” She exhaled, laughing lightly to herself. “Mrs.Weasley, good heavens.” Placing a hand on her chest rolling her eyes playfully. “Now I know i'm not that old!” The whole table chuckled, your beating heart slowing down, suddenly less afraid that she was truly upset with you. It became quite apparent that you and Harry had trouble calling her Molly; you’d both rather call her mum (but you’d never reveal that).

After dinner you stayed back and helped clean up, placing the dirty dishes next to the sink as they magically lifted one by one and washed themselves. The system of housecleaning was easy and the chores were minimal meaning you, Harry, and the Weasley siblings were out into the snow in no time.

Everyone was bundled up to the highest degree, not risking any contamination of icy wind or snow inside their clothes. Each person was distinctly larger, several layers and large boots changed the dimensions of each of the boys, you as well. It felt as if you had your own padding and shielding, godric forbid you get hit with a nasty snowball. Unfortunately for you, the chances were high.

You and George limped outside, the snow was as high as your shins creating such resistance to each step you took. Finding a satisfactory pile, you turned to face George and fell on your back, the snow cushioning your descent very nicely. George laughed and followed your lead, practically belly flopping into the snow face down, rolling around like a freshly washed dog. His clothes were covered in the white dust, and he became almost invisible if you squint hard enough.

While George was busy trying to stand back up, his body slightly off balance from the accumulation of snow, you pounded a small mound of snow together in your hands, aiming it directly at his chest, or so you thought.

The snowball gracefully flew through the air, cresting just above his head and landing directly on his face, splattering the cold debris everywhere. Goerge yelped, falling to the ground, his hands clutching his chest dramatically.

“I've been SHOT. FRIENDLY FIRE FRIENDLY FIRE!” He yelled, rolling around the snow once more. You laughed heartily, rushing over to his flailing body.

“I didn’t mean to hit you in the face! I’m so sorry-“ You started to apologize, but George’s hand whipped up once you got close enough, pulling you to the ground swiftly. He wrapped his arms around you, both of you rolling on top of eachother, pushing and tossing snow in eachothers face playfully. Once you two were out of energy, you stopped to catch your breath, both laying up towards the sky.

Your cheeks were reddened from the cold air and the tip of your nose was frozen to the touch. You turned your head towards George who laid beside you.

“I just can't get enough of you.” He mumbled, looking over at you. You smiled, staring into eachothers eyes, nothing but the sound of Ron and Harry yelling in the background about the logistics of their snowman’s proportions. You couldn’t have been more grateful to be living in this exact moment as you were.

You glanced over at Harry and Ron, Fred now joining them with a pile of sticks, all to entranced in their snowman to notice you both. You looked back at George with a smirk on your face, feeling particularly flirty. You leaned over quickly placing a small kiss on his cheek and on his lips, hovering lightly before planting another. He looked at you with wide eyes, enjoying the kiss, but nervously checking on harry and Ron, a feeling of embarrassment if you were caught kissing.

Something deep in George’s core lit like a fire, his body reacting pleasantly to the idea of possibly being caught, that you two kissing was forbidden, or at the very least secretive.

His hands quickly grabbed your body, the barrier of the clothing frustrating his fingers, unable to fully feel your skin. Your lips were freezing, but warmed up lightly to the feeling of his, cascading gracefully and slowly alongside eachother. The kiss seemed to deepen quickly, both of your hands holding onto his face, pulling his body as close to you as possible. His hands held your jacket tightly, as if he was willing to rip it off of your body. You both laid on your side facing each other, bodies stiff and immovable, just your heads bobbing rhythmically.

George pulled back, resting his head on the snow completely out of breath. You bit your lip, watching him lay back, wishing he didn’t kissing you. Your chest was burning, itching for more contact. He pulled you onto his chest, now maneuvering your head to look up towards the sky. It had darkened severally since you all came outside, the stars now shining brightly.

“Do you believe we are all alone here. In our galaxy?” George whispered. The silence lingered between you two, taking the time to think of your own opinion.

“I’m not sure.” You finally responded. You weren’t sure. Would it be sadder that you were alone as a species completely in the universe, or too far to ever meet the other life, both ideas making your head spin.

“I think id be alright either way.” George mumbled. “I feel pretty satisfied with just you.” He leaned, whispering sultry into your ear. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, your body becoming hot again, not even the snow was able to cool your nerves. Your hands traveled back to his neck pulling him closer to you, the kiss resuming with the same amount of passion.

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to last out in the cold, but you also weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain yourself if you both went inside

[nightunite]

mhmmm forehead kisses between reader and konig

- half-asleep noona 🫶🏻

Hewwo Noona! This gave me the chance to write something I've been itching to add but haven't had the time to (curse needing a paycheck). Fair warning, my ass does NOT know how to play piano! @beloveds-embrace

Konig gently rolls his neck, looking at the clock ticking away on the far end of the music room, the crackling fire interrupting the sound of the steady movement of the clock's hands. Glancing out the window, he sees the snow coming down in fat flakes, covering up the signs of the servants' playful fights from yesterday and painting it all a serene white once more. A quarter after three, and a quarter after their lesson should have started. Ah, no matter, there's always tomorrow. He stands from the piano bench, turning to leave the room when he hears the sounds of socked feet drawing closer. Thumping over the hardwood, closer and closer, until his ricke appears in the doorway, out of breath and panicked. "Apologies sir! I didn't mean to oversleep, I-" Her hair is a mess, strands tossed to and fro, and he can't help the way his fingers twitch to card them back into place. "Nonsense, ricke. You are carrying a baby, you need your sleep." He walks over to her, trying to fight the blush he knows is desperate to make it's way across his cheeks as she looks at his bare face. His shroud had been cast aside shortly into their language lessons. After all, how was she to know how to shape her mouth for correct pronunciation if she couldn't see his example? That didn't make it any easier when she looked up at him like this, always so nervous for his approval. Clearing his throat, he holds out his arm for her, guiding her to the piano bench for the start of their lessons. She had come to him shortly after the others had taken her under their wing for language lessons, hands clasped in front of her. He had been sat here, gently playing the lullaby his mama would hum to him and that he was guilty of repeating when lost in thought... "You play beautifully, my lord. I wish I could play as well." "Would you like to learn?" "Of course!" And so, in much the same way as she was learning his native tongue, she now was his piano student. Of course, none of the other maids knew how to play, so he would be taking this task on by himself. If it made the spots of his heart that had chilled when their lessons had been overtaken thaw once more, that was no one's concern. He merely wishes to broaden her horizons and be a good employer. Besides, it allows him more opportunities to speak with another and keep his own language skills sharp. He helps her sit down, mindful of her and her bump. Ever since she had told him, he couldn't help but look after her. What if she fell, or tripped? As her boss (and perhaps her friend, though he hesitated to speak it aloud, the mere thought reddening his ears and highlighting them further), it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of his staff. "We will start with the warm ups, then move to the steps from yesterday, ja?" He tells her, watching her set her hands on the piano. Before she plays a single note though he's reaching from behind her, fingers sliding along the inside of her wrist to set her hands in a better position, one where they aren't curled like claws and causing cramps later. "Remember, loose." He murmurs, pulling back from her. "Thank you." She says back, taking a breath. She sets to work, playing a few notes slowly, careful not to make them overlap. They had only been at these lessons for little more than a week, so she knows not to expect to immediately be a maestro, but she can't help her disappointment when she makes mistakes. He watches over the top of her head, bent down at an angle that she's sure is bad for his back, but he assured her this is the best way for him to observe and correct her.

She makes her way through the scales, growing frustrated as she fails to move her fingers correctly. Chewing on her lip, she tries again, hitting the wrong notes in the process. She speeds up in an effort to force her hands to play better, but it just results in more errors, notes tumbling out of sequence. Before she grows too irritated though, Konig reaches for her hands again. "Too stiff. You have to move your hands like a dance." He gently sets his hands over hers, fingers moving across the keys. When it comes to the part where she struggles he gently tucks her thumb, so focused on teaching that he doesn't realize he is essentially holding her hand in his, his words whispered into her ear and making her fight a shiver. They're warm like they always are, so careful with how they move against hers, a cradle that keeps her hands safe from the harshness. It stokes something in her, the part of her that craves connection with another, craves closeness. "Step, step, step. All the way through." He guides her up and down the scale, showing her how to move her hands to produce a smooth transition. After a few more repetitions of it, he gently releases her hands, still hovering over the top in case she needs further guidance. "Go on ricke, you can do this." Slower than him, and with a bit of shakiness, she moves her hands, hoping not to embarrass herself after all of that. Each note comes out clear, and when she successfully makes it up and down the scale by herself she can't help but beam. She glances up at him, smile bright, to find him looking down at her with a similar expression. She's not expecting what follows. "Good job ricke!". Without thinking, he presses a soft kiss to her hairline as a reward. He pulls back, not processing what he's just done, while her expression changes to one of surprise, big doe eyes blinking up at him. When it finally hits him, he can feel the heat flood his entire face, blistering his ears and trailing down his neck and chest. His little student also flusters, and the two immediately look elsewhere, the chaste kiss still enough to set their hearts racing. Oh scheisse, how he wishes he still had on his mask. Clearing his throat, he regains his composure as best he can. "Apologies. That was crossing a boundary. I meant to say, you are learning well." If his voice is slightly higher pitched, it is only because he must be coming down with some illness. Same for the knot in his stomach, most likely the result of the cooks using bad potatoes for that day's lunch of stew. "Thank you sir." She murmurs shyly, fighting the urge to touch the spot his lips touched, the skin tingling. Just like his hands, his lips were warm, if a bit dry. The flutter she feels in her stomach must be from the baby, the racing of her heart causing them to get fussy. "Now, on to the next scale..." So they spent the afternoon, with the snow outside and the warmth inside, both the room and the people residing in it aglow as new paths were tread. TRANSLATIONS: Ricke - Doe Scheisse - Shit

[froidefille]

Day 21: a fic rated M

📚 Among the Elements by @sweet-s0rr0w

Draco/Harry, 8.3k, M

Summary:

Harry getting pregnant might have been an accident, but Draco means it when he says that he’s all in. What he doesn’t expect is to find himself all alone in St Mungo’s neonatal unit, making life-or-death decisions for a tiny human he’s never even held.

Yet another Mpreg fic on my list! I remember being on a con 10 years ago where a brave soul made a whole lecture on Mpreg to a hundred people in the audience. I have so much respect for this person years later because that must have taken some balls to do 😀 Anyway, I remember a part of the lecture were on theories on why this trope is so popular and I remember exactly zero of them but yeah, there is something to this trope and I indeed do love it 😇

This one is a gentle, raw, aching story.

The relationship between the boys is so mature, so profound and yet so on edge! Also, I will NEVER get tired of Draco being adopted by the Weasleys, and in thic fic it is so delicately done <3 But by far my favourite aspect of it is the way it describes the tiredness of being a new parent so touchingly *melts* I thought about sending it to my friend who has a 6-week old baby but I just thought it would be too rough on her to have the experience being caught in words. I’ll send it to her in a few months tho:

She’d blathered on about ley lines and standing stones and planetary alignment while Draco tried not to weep with exhaustion at the very thought of a midnight ceremony. Everything’s so heavy now, waterlogged: his old self gasping for air somewhere between feeds and changes, between nights spent mumbling Wakefulness charms to avoid falling asleep with Scorpius in his arms and days filled with the stomach-churning terror that he’s doing this all wrong.

And just have a look at the below ONE sentence that somehow encapsulates the wonder of getting to know a brand new family member that haven’t existed yesterday:

“Scorpius,” Draco echoes, as he burrows closer – and for the first time, the word is more than just a sharpness behind Draco’s breastbone, more than an absence of air in his lungs: it’s a promise. A gift. Their future.

 *cries* more than just a sharpness hehind his breastbone 😭 more than an absence of air in his lungs 😭 😭 😭

Thank you for today’s prompt @hprecfest and @sweet-s0rr0w for all your delightful works!

Some more of beautiful words under the cut <3

PS. Just to let you know – it’s quite possible I may need to take a break for the next few days. Christmas is pretty crazy in my home, there’s a hundred dumplings to make, at least six cakes and eight other dishes </3 And I am exagerating none of it, damn the traditional Polish cuisine. Wish me luck!!

It had all happened so fast. One moment: Christmas classics on the Wireless, box-knives through packing tape, hanging tiny Quidditch outfits on the line, talking hopes and dreams over ice cream at midnight. The next: panicked shouts, Expecto Patronum (five times before it worked), stern-voiced medics, and a harsh, insistent bleeping that no-one but Draco seemed to hear. One day: Harry, carrying their baby, a beautiful, remarkable, imperfect family that Draco still couldn’t quite wrap his head around. And the next– The next day, Draco had found himself perched on the edge of a plastic armchair, staring numbly through a magical field at the blurry, purplish outline of a baby he didn’t know. His baby, the sign said, though the thin-skinned, bony-limbed creature below resembled neither a Malfoy nor a Potter, but something else entirely. Hardly a baby at all. 

The angsttttttt *cry*

Draco pictures a child, small and uncertain, clinging to Harry amidst the hustle and bustle of a busy September Kings Cross platform. He imagines a boy, tall and handsome, beaming up at him from the middle of a Quidditch pitch. He thinks of endless hospital visits, endless frustrating tests, of three lives trapped between separate worlds. And then there’s Harry, shielded in a magical coma, clinging to life by the faintest of threads. Harry, brave, beautiful Harry, who was starved and beaten and raised in a cupboard, all for being different.

The way Draco, with all his pureblood upbringing, knowing nothing but magic, decides in a instant that he’d rather have Scorpius healthy than magical – there were tears in my eyes, I swear.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says all at once, his mother’s disapproval echoing in his head. He’s a disappointment, he knows – to her, and now probably to Pansy, but he’s made up his mind. He can’t let Harry down, not with this. “Oh, my darling,” Pansy whispers, looking for all the world as though she can’t decide whether to smack him or hug him. In the end, she just reaches over to pour him some wine.

Oh Pansy! I have grown to love Pansy in Drarry, I especially love when she’s a fiercely protective friend unrelenting in all her elegance all the same <3

You wanna grab some food? Harry had asked, once Scorpius was settled and they could dawdle by the cotside no longer, which was how Draco had found himself in the local Chinese, pulling out Harry’s chair for him, nerves and embarrassment tangling up inside his chest as he tried to make sense of the menu. They were parents when they’d barely been lovers, partners when they’d barely been friends, and now… this. This is new: this isn’t Harry bringing a fucked-out Draco peanut butter on toast as dawn breaks outside, or the two of them on the balcony in Malta, working their way through the room service menu in an effort to find anything that Harry could eat without gagging. This isn’t takeaway pizza in a half-decorated nursery, or another tray of beige hospital food, or Draco’s Sunday roast left untouched as life moves on around him at the Burrow. What this is – what it feels like – is a date. Draco’s first proper date with the man he sleeps beside, the father of his child, the person he’s fallen in love with somewhere along this brief, crazy journey. A date that goes well.

The fact that they had a baby before they went on a date – well, somehow I’m not even surprised, those boys 😂

[mischiefmaker615]

Hiii! You popped up on my home page again and I was once again choking on your wonderful writing. I have a thing for your Musical Mischief series!

I Caught Myself -Paramore.

I totally get it if this doesn't bring any inspiration, but if it does, I'd love to read it! Much love.<3

I Caught Myself

Summary: When Loki finds his "babysitter" asleep, does he dare take that risk of freedom?

Rating: PG14

Requester: @nervouseden

Inspiration Request: "I Caught Myself" by Paramore

Note: NGL this one was a bit tricky to think of a plot *sweats* hope it will do..

Loki's POV

The only sound that could be heard was from the soft steps I made down yet another hall in search of Y/N. Those heroes have departed for the day and yet the tower has been left unnaturally quiet. I wouldn’t so much as trouble myself if danger was to happen in their absence but the very creature I do so happen to favor- and quite frankly wouldn’t want to see harmed- is nowhere to be found.

Calling her name would show me as desperate, weak, wanting in the fact that I seek out a mortal’s presence. Ohh but she is no mere mortal..

I often think about how different she is when time grants itself to my mind. Her fragrance lingers in the senses where It almost caresses and beckons. Her hair sways practically in time with her hips while she walks. Her dainty hands fidgets with things when she is deep thinking or trying to distract herself. She does that a lot when she finds me watching her..

Her uncomfortableness often amuses me; it’s hardly disgust, her cheeks redden to much for it to be anything negative to my stares. From her body language, she’s often shown me how much affect I have on her and all I merely do is just watch her. I don’t often catch myself doing it, she almost seems to have this way of grabbing my attention without myself even realizing it first.

She’s the only one I give a word to, actually hold my tongue and offer a series of replies whenever she finds herself wishing to speak with me. Why? Unlike the others, I have found no sign of her holding any fear or anger towards me. I’ve had to question myself if my abilities to read others have diminished but with her conversations and approaches seeming.. heartfelt, my body normally relaxes when she’s brought herself to my presence.

I gave no argument when the Iron Idiot had presented the idea of her being the one to keep an eye on me. Even now with that thought, I couldn’t help but smirk with the idea that they think I need a babysitter. I’ve been here to many months to count and they still can’t find themselves to let go with the idea that as soon as I step foot outside, the world would burn once again.

The thought has crossed my mind often but somehow it often drifts back to Y/N.. the mere thought of her injured causes a tight pain within my chest. I wouldn’t even be willing to take the risk of world domination again with the fact that collateral must always be taken in account.

She would be a risk.

Leaving rather than ruling would be more like it.

I have entered the main room to which one would see first if they came to this domain and I almost gave up finding her if it hadn’t been for the soft sound of breathing and that glorious scent catching my attention. Slowing my steps even more, I approach the back of the couch where a book lays open upon the table and the sleeping form of Y/N is spread out amongst me.

My eyes didn’t hesitate to drop at her form; an arm is raised above her head while the other is draped over her waist. She is laying on her side, still in her day clothes which immediately told me she must have fallen asleep. The sight was quite.. alluring, if I am to be honest with myself. If we were in a perfect world, I would have probably gathered her in my arms and finally got a taste of those lushes lips my eyes so often drift too.

But I couldn’t risk not having her feelings reciprocated.. although humans are incredibly easy to read, she was very much a difficult one to figure out. it’s probably why I favor her presence so much. She is not bland, nor boring. It’s quite the thrill when I am presenting with a fact about her I hadn’t quite beat her to figuring out. even now my eyes move forward to find the book on the table and I smile to myself.

She is almost half way through and was one I’ve let her borrow back in a previous conversation I quite enjoyed. I don’t often find others enjoying books as much as I do, let alone a human- with its technology replacing paper every day.

She’s different.. she has full control of my body without my mind being able to convince it otherwise.

My hands have been gripping the back of the couch for awhile now, blood rushing back to my fingers when I remove one to slowly drift down to her sleeping form. It shouldn’t have lingered as long as it did, but I relished in the feeling of her beautiful hair brushing against my skin while I return a lock back behind her ear. Her skin looks so soft and smooth and my finger tips tingle with the growing urge and idea of feeling her more.

Turning my back to her helped my growing evidence of what she truly does to me, my eyes eventually resting upon to elevator that was merely just a few feet away.

How easy it could be..

How easy it could be to just take advantage with the heroes gone, my dear babysitter asleep and I merely free to walk out those doors without so much of a sound or a hint. I could perhaps start a life somewhere.. under an identity though a simple spell I’d apply daily. No one would no, no one would find me, perhaps no one would eventually remember me once the hunt was given up.

My eyes slowly move over my shoulder, taking in the sight once more of her glorious form and with thoughts if she’d even miss me, or so much as think of me. Her eyes were always full of kindness, not once have I been able to detect a lie or trick. She was genuine.. how did she find herself to be amongst these mortal savages..

On Asgard, she would have been for certain courted, second glanced and snatched up within a second upon joining a festival. Id worry every waking second if she wasn’t at my side that I may be bested, stolen from, or perhaps she’d find someone better.. yet she’s never truly had me think of myself that way..

Around her, I feel more heard than I had in my entire childhood. Seen, more than I had when I had attended the court.. loved.. perhaps even if it were to be within a friendship..

If that is all she has to offer, than I am to accept it in abundance..

My eyes drifted back to the elevator. Freedom within just a few steps..

“I don’t know what I want..’’ my voice but whispered yet deep down in denial, I did know.

Which is why I found myself slowly walking around the couch, sitting myself in the spot she offered while her legs stayed bent yet comfortable. She rather seemed to enjoy curling herself when she was asleep, and I couldn’t help but smile before I was reminded perhaps she was cold and wasn’t prepared for the unexpected wave of exhaustion. Instinctually I conjured a blanket to wrap around her, the familiar green color having to be explained if she were to wake up and find it.

What would I tell her?

‘I found you asleep and thought you might be in need of a blanket?’ of course not.. I wish not for the image of going soft.. I then thought I may perhaps place her in her proper bed, but that would come with trouble in its own. ‘you entered my bedroom without permission’ she may say.. no.. Y/N has always been one to think positive..

“it’s the thought that counts at least’’ she often quoted and I couldn’t help but feel the smile tug at my lips again, my hand having been resting on her hip the entire time since I’ve sat down.

What was she doing to me.. her mere presence has me under some sort of spell of some sorts.. a few months ago I may have had this woman on her knees, now all she has me wanting is to be sinking onto my own..

I took the risk.

I felt myself leaning over her, my hand moving to curl at her hip and the other by her shoulder before my actions froze, watching how she slowly stirred and hummed in her sleep. Sweet thing.. what do you dream about.. with my body frozen as to not wake her, she then turned a little, the hand having been above her head coming now and merely rest upon mine beside her hip.

My breath hitched, her hands being as soft and gentle as I’ve imagined they would and my eyes closed to relish in the feeling alone. I could feel her fingers slightly gripped my wrist, almost as if her body was aware of the touch it was giving and my mind imagined her grip somewhere else.

I was not in a position to easily hide my physical reaction towards her without waking her up. I only prayed to the gods her light prodding that now ghosted her beautiful ass wouldn’t be enough to wake her up or stir anymore- before gods knew my control could be worn thin in mere seconds if I let it slip.

‘’gods Y/N.. what are you doing to me..’’ I breathed, trying to ignore my erection while I slowly leaned myself down, hovering over her so I could inhale slowly that scent I loved so much. ‘’I thought I didn’t know what I wanted... You're pushing and pulling me down to you.. making me think things I never should have thought.. what do you want?” I whisper, almost convincing myself I’d get an answer while her eyes remained shut and her lips parted ever so slightly.

‘’I want you Y/N..’’ I whisper, my eyes not even straining while they remained on her face. I knew the door to freedom was right there, but everything within myself told me this is where freedom was.. with her..

‘’whenever you may realize it, I’ll be here..’’ I promised, allowing myself to lean more, my body barely brushing against hers before I lightly brushed my lips against her soft cheek, everything in my power held me back from adding more pressure or moving them down to her awaiting lips before I allowed myself to sit back up.

Looking down at her hand that gripped mine, I slowly turned it enough so I could also place a kiss upon her knuckles, finding everything about her soft and sweet before I carefully placed her hand down and freed my own.

She is perfect.. and will be fine someday.. if I am to wait longer than I am to wait to gain freedom, so be it. I’d rather live a life of imprisonment if it meant she was to be promised to me than to walk out and find her gone too. Perhaps I am not so trapped here, one may think she was trapped here with me.

And by the gods all hell will break lose if someone dare take her away.

DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief one shot :D 

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing

[bellamychevalier]

As her own face shifted with the wind his own was far more challenging to read. Micro adjustments in moments, some actions she presumed specifically done to indicate something to her, rather than because emotion dictated the gesture as her own could overwhelm her own adjustments at times. Certainly he was watching her but Bella couldn't fathom with what thoughts, the only solid indication of how he was taking her words that he had not rescinded his hands from her own.

His unblinking response felt as unknown in purpose as his studying of her, Bella trying to recall in his moment of silence between sentences what he had looked like when he had studied her more literally, when notes had been taken on her temperature and the changes to her form that had come from death. It did not seem to her the same sort of studying. His gaze shifting to their gesture seemed a sign of that. Was he...concerned for her? For them? The thought alone showed on her face, so perhaps it was good he was not looking at her, brows tight as she felt his hand squeeze her own.

"I...," Bella began, only for a quietness to overtake her, drawing their entwined hands near her core, lace likely creating shifts of softness against the side of his hands. For all she had imagined the ease of the situation if he told he 'no, you must put those feelings away,' she had known what she would do all along if Valentin arrived and cared for her. It had simply been emotional exhaustion, or maybe even fear he would not come, that had not allowed for her to acknowledge the truth. "I wish to explore our feelings together, mon âmes seuors, without variables."

Leaning up to him Bella placed a kiss to the height of his cheekbones that sat above a hollowness where slender skin hid deadly teeth. "I could not imagine either of us sharing one another at this stage of eternity," she insisted with a second kiss lower, feeling the grooves of his teeth through his skin before drawing herself down once more. "Unaltered feelings don't mean unharmed," Bella observed of his own choice of words, her closeness to him lingering even as she had lowered. "I feel I am too vulnerable to share you in this moment. Or share myself. You are older, perhaps less vulnerable to envy," she smiled at him, unsure if this was true or just a gesture he was willing to make for their feelings. One day she imagined envy would not envelope her with him, but Bella knew it could now.

With the belief his study of her had been some sort of worry, she allowed the smile on her face to linger, to focus on the relief there was no longer any hidden truths between them and she might just get to enjoy him now. "I think it might consume me to see you with another," she insisted, fingers now tickling beneath his palms as she leaned to him. "The amount of nights I worried you had found some new experiment to pull you barefoot from your chambers for a midnight stroll. That you were kissing someone beneath the moon," Bella still smiled as she said it, the worry for these actions having left her the moment he had confessed his own feelings, and so they felt silly now, but...silly in a way that hopefully meant if he would have been hurt, hopefully he could sense that would have been okay, because if anything hurt him she wouldn't have done it, even if his hurt didn't lessen his attachment.

"I wish for more pleasurable thoughts and acts to consume me now that you are here," she beamed with hope at the man she had longed for and now had.

Valentin gave a slight inclination of his head when she mentioned garments made for him, a subtle gesture that was meant to be express his appreciation for the effort she had made. He'd not yet seen these garments mentioned but was certain she would reveal them in due time. "You have been keeping busy," he appraised thoughtfully as she continued and as the two settled comfortably together upon the bedspread, he paid careful attention to her as she spoke.

Her voice was a blessing he had long missed and now hearing it again for the first time in so long was something he was not going to take lightly. He paid attention to every word, every pause as their fingers danced together in an idle affection. "I am glad you made a study of that which you enjoyed," regarding her newfound occupation and hobby of sewing. It was his own intense passion for science and knowledge that was the driving force behind his work and was glad she too had now found her own source of passion.

The pale blue of his gaze landed to her as she carried on, briefly recalling previously expressed emotions before she paused and redirected her words. Then came her smile and suddenly this dimly lit tent in the darkness of the forest seemed a little bit brighter but it was not long lasting. Her words turned then to explain of a budding affection for another, a romance, an intimacy unfulfilled but no less desired. Valentin continued to observe her, a side effect of his work that he could no more stop himself from doing just the same as he could not stop his desire for blood, so he observed her, not with intense scrutiny but as casual as he could manage with his keen perception, watching the shift of her expressions as she spoke. She always was so expressive in contrast to his own muted emotions, him showing too little and her showing so much. He could imagine that he could discern all of her emotions solely through the expressions of her face, even the subtle ones that came with but a glance.

"Djinn are inherently magical beings," Valentin commented, eyes unblinking as he now turned his sight to their hands which remained entwined. He was not surprised to hear that a Djinn was the catalyst for her feelings. The very air around such a magically charged being often invoked strange sensations in those around them, at least this was the result of some of his own study on the species. "Be assured, Belle, you have not spoiled anything. What I feel for you is not so easily tempered." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, "You and I have an eternity. If you wish to explore your feelings, know that my own for you will not be altered."

[ilikerosesalot]

Im sorry I have the sort of illness where I constantly need to connect the things i love together

[bleaksqueak]

Whew look at you go! Had a small problem with aphids a lil while back, but after a whole lot of diligence they were banished. Still have some of the damaged leaves visible but look at all the healthy new growth!

You may be trying to take over my desk, but I couldn’t ask for a better art companion. The moss in the planter is happy with the frequent watering and shade, but the impatiens is trying to devoir the terrarium moss now too

My oxalis is thriving still, too. But it has its own space above me and isn’t trying to reach out and say hello as much.

Okay, this has been your semi annual habitat update. Back to painting.

Also, hello new followers! Thank you for liking my art.

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”