#get it? do you get it? because I’m Pears

[nevereatpearss]

You're so cool :0

Ikr I’m so cool.

( @so-am-smyme9540 cough cough look at this photo I just took )

[ki1ldeer]

I’m feeling very uninspired by my ocs rn so I’m reverting to my steven universe phase lol

[dancing-with-stars]

guys. guys !!!!

[exopelagic]

fruit <33333333333

[kashverse]

gojo’s sweet tooth is a menace. you learned that early on when he asked for “a bit” of sugar in his coffee and ended up turning it into something closer to a dessert syrup. so, of course, when you bake a pear and berry pie—already sweet enough, mind you—he sneaks in extra sweetener when he thinks you aren’t looking. he’s not very subtle about it. the first time, you almost missed it, but then you saw his telltale smug grin, a bit too pleased with himself as he “innocently” leaned against the counter.

"toru," you deadpan, arms crossed.

"what? i’m just appreciating your hard work," he says, licking a stray bit of filling off his finger like he's in a commercial.

"you’re ruining my pie."

"nah, i’m improving your pie," he corrects, already reaching for another spoonful.

nanami, on the other hand, is far less chaotic. he keeps things simple—apple pie, nothing fancy. no extra fillings, no surprise ingredients, just a good ol’ classic that never lets him down. it’s his go-to for the weekends, whether he makes it himself (precisely measured, no shortcuts) or picks one up from the bakery he trusts more than some of his coworkers. sometimes, you’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in the middle of rolling out dough with the same focus he has when reading financial reports. if you joke about him being a househusband, he’ll sigh, wipe his hands on a towel, and say, "do you want pie or not?"

toji doesn’t bake. he doesn’t have time, patience, or, honestly, the self-control to wait for something to cool down before eating it. but after a long day, when you casually hand him a slice of pumpkin pie, he takes it without a word. he’s not big on admitting things, so he just eats it, nodding once in approval, like that’s the most gratitude you’re going to get. but the real giveaway is how he never turns it down. ever. even if he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

geto loves pecan pie. no debate. no discussion. no hesitation. the man would probably start a war over it if necessary. you once offered him a slice of something else, and he gave you such a disappointed look that you almost felt guilty.

"you’re really this attached to pecan pie?" you asked, watching as he took slow, deliberate bites like he was savoring each one.

"it’s a masterpiece," he said, as if that explained everything.

choso is all about cherry pie, mostly because he likes the tint it leaves behind. after eating it, he’ll glance in the mirror and smile a little at the way his lips look stained, like a kid who got into something he shouldn’t have. sometimes, he’ll grin at you with his mouth still full just to make you roll your eyes.

"cho, you look like you just drank blood."

"cool, right?"

and then there’s sukuna. you have to physically stop him from turning a normal, innocent chicken pie into something… horrific.

"you can’t put human meat in it."

"why not?"

"it’s a chicken pie."

"so?"

you glare at him. he stares back, unbothered.

"suku, if i turn around and find out you’ve replaced the filling, i swear to god—"

he smirks. "you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"i would. you know why? because i would throw up."

he just laughs, because, really, who needs horror movies when you live with him?

[luveline]

hey jade! maybe this is a tad more angsty than you'd like but could I request prison!Spence getting a visit from bombshell!reader and Amy? or a phonecall with them? q

ty for your request <3 mom!reader, 1.4k

“Best behaviour,” you’re whispering, hand on Amy’s small back, her shoe digging into your hip. “I’m serious, baby. Big feelings are okay, but we can’t be loud. We can’t shout.” 

She frowns. Amy’s been a little against you these last few weeks. “I’m not shouting.” 

“I know.” You try and fail to divide your attention between her and the line you’re following. You almost miss the sound of the buzzer that ushers you forward. “Okay, I’m right here. I know everything has been super scary, and you’re my brave girl, but I’m right here. You can tell me anything. Okay?” 

She rubs your chin with her nose. “Okay, mom.”

“Okay. Let’s go see daddy!” you cheer under your breath, enthusing your voice with some false joy. 

Your nerves threaten to make you sick, but you have to be the put together one. This is the strife part of the marriage you’d signed up for. Though no one can blame you for handling it poorly —who could ever expect Spencer to be where he is right now? 

You carry Amy into the penitentiary visitor’s room with apprehension, shoulders stiff, fingers aching against your little girl’s rough denim jacket. The room is laid out strangely, but there’s a clear division between the prisoners and the visitors, though there’s no overarching perspex. There are dividers, sure, but you can touch him. You can see him sitting near the middle of the room, his hair in violent disarray, his eyes locked onto you already. 

You speed up your walking. 

Desperate, your knee knocks into a chair as you try to touch his face. 

Spencer lets you for a half a second, before he moves away. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” he says, voice laden with a raw apologeticness that threatens to trip you up immediately. 

“Daddy!” Amy says, squirming in your arms, her foot on the desk as she tries to shove herself over the short partition. 

Spencer, in a dads instinct, reaches for her without thinking. “Amy, Amy,” he says. 

“No touching!” a guard shouts clearly. 

Spencer pushes Amy gently back into your arms and holds his arms up in surrender. The guard veers his way, but walks off again when he sees Spencer’s compliance. 

“Daddy,” she whines, holding out her hand. 

“Sit down,” Spencer says to you. 

You sit down. The gap between both you and Amy and Spencer widens, her little legs pumping restlessly into your thighs. You’ll be bruised as a soft pear when you go home, but you barely feel it now. 

“Shh,” you say, wrapping your arms around her like a straight jacket. You don’t really have a choice. “Shh, baby, shh. Remember what mommy said, okay? We have to be quiet, or they won’t let us see your daddy anymore. We have to follow the rules.” 

“It’s okay,” Spencer says. He clears his throat. “Hey, Amanda?” 

She looks up in surprise at her full first name. “What?” she asks. 

“God, it’s so good to see you.” His voice thickens with emotion, but he keeps a tight handle on it. “I miss you so much, sweetheart. So much.” He looks at you. “I miss you,”  he says again. 

“We miss you too.” You wipe your nose. “It’s weird just being mom and Amy at home.” 

Weird isn’t the right word. Amy has cried herself sick five nights a week for the last month, because if her mom is home, why isn’t her dad? Why can’t she talk to him? Where did he go? 

“When can you be home?” Amy asks, reaching toward the glass again. 

Spencer looks around the room before he reaches over the half-partition to hold her hand. He gives you a look: watch my back. 

“I don’t know yet,” he says, holding her hand tightly, and giving her fingers little squeezes, “I’m sorry, princess.” 

You give him a look of your own: change the subject. 

You miss Spencer more than you’ve ever missed another person. There’s never been a feeling as acute as this in your life, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you aren’t with him. The only thing you can do is be Amy’s mom, and you’ve always felt that Spencer made you better at it. Without him, you’re struggling. 

He looks like he can tell. 

He diverts his attention from you to Amy again, ducking his head, his face posed into his most loving smile. “You’re so pretty, just like your mommy. You’re getting prettier every day, aren’t you? Mommy told me you’ve been helping make your own dinner. That’s amazing. You’re my smart girl.” 

“I make– made our favourite last night.” She struggles over ‘favourite’, but she’s as smart as her father. The words come easily. “We had, uh– butter chicken! And mommy made…” 

You blink a small tear from the corner of your eye. “I made garlic naan. We toasted them under the grill, didn’t we?” you ask with a sniffle. 

“Yes!” She looks back at you. “Dad’s plate.” 

You wipe your cheek quickly. “We kept you some,” you say, fighting as hard as you can to stop yourself from crying at the table. You can’t break down here, and you won’t. “Amy was worried you’d come home and be hungry, so we saved you some.” 

Spencer leans far over the table to squeeze your wrist. Behind him, the prison guard begins making their way to your table.

“Spencer.” You lean away before he can get caught. 

Spencer snatches his hand back to grip the partition. 

He smiles. “Angel,” he says clearly, looking you straight in the eye, “you’re doing so good. I can’t believe how amazing you are.” 

“I’m gonna fix this,” you promise. 

“No, no, angel, I just need you to look after yourself, and my princess.” He gives Amy a smile dripping with affection. “She needs lots of looking after. Don’t you, Amy? I know mommy’s doing such a great job looking after you.” 

“I miss you,” she says. 

“I miss you too.” 

“Can I have a hug now?” 

He looks back, right into the watchful gaze of the guard. He turns back with a smile that’s nearly convincing. “Not right now, I probably don’t smell very nice, and they don’t want me to get my gross smell on you.” 

“Ew, daddy.” 

“Ew,” he agrees, wrinkling his nose. “I wish I smelled like you and mommy. What smell is it today, baby?” 

“Persimmon,” she says. She preens at the suggestion that she smells good, relaxing against your chest. 

You kiss her temple. 

“Persimmon,” Spencer says. He couldn’t sound more proud. “You know what? Persimmons have lots of meaning. They’re a symbol of perseverance.” He remembers to dumb it down. “People who eat lots of persimmons are strong, they can get through anything. Maybe when you and mommy go home, you can share a persimmon, and I can eat one here, and together we’ll be strong while we wait for me to come home.” 

“You can come home now,” Amy says. “Come home with us!” 

“I can’t,” he says gently. “It’s complicated.” 

“I think daddy has the right idea,” you say, interrupting his explanation unapologetically, “I think we should go to the market when we leave and pick all the different fruits, and I’ll send some for dad here, and we can eat them at the same time.” 

“Like a picnic?” 

“I can make little sandwiches, and we’ll get your teddies,” you agree. “Whatever you want. But first, I think you need to tell daddy all about this week. What book have we been reading? Oh, and we got you some new shoes ‘cos your feet got bigger!” 

He smiles lovingly. “Oh, they did?” he asks softly. 

You know he’s gutted.

(Spencer gets out of prison almost two whole months later. He gives Amy a huge box of tangerines (with the white lie that they are persimmons, hard to find in DC, and your sweet girl doesn’t know the difference yet) with a new pair of converse wrapped in a red silk bow, promising that he will never miss another fitting. He doesn’t know where to start with you, that much is obvious, he’s so grateful to be home and he’s sick to his stomach with guilt, too. He doesn’t realise the only thing you needed was for him to come back. 

The diamond necklace is a nice gesture, though not half as valuable as his face pressed to your neck as he sleeps, Amy on his stomach, their long fingers sticky with orange peels. It makes all your silent crying worth it.)

[lanaroff]

To Love, To Stay

pearing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader and Wanda Maximoff are basking in the joy of a blossoming relationship when an unexpected pregnancy changes everything.

The first months with Wanda were a dream. Everything felt easy, natural. Dates at quaint little cafes, lazy mornings wrapped in blankets on the couch, and laughter—so much laughter. Wanda had a way of making even the simplest moments feel magical. It was as if being with her brought color to a life you hadn’t realized was so gray before.

You were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, enjoying every moment without thinking too far ahead. Conversations about the future felt distant, unimportant. All that mattered was the now, and the now was perfect.

But then things changed.

Wanda started acting distant. At first, it was subtle. She seemed preoccupied, her mind wandering during conversations. She canceled a couple of dates with vague excuses, and when you did see her, she wasn’t as present as she used to be. It wasn’t like her to pull away—Wanda was always so open, so warm.

You tried not to overthink it, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong only grew. It wasn’t until one evening, when you’d gone to her room at the Avengers Compound unannounced, that everything came crashing down.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and a small white stick sat on the counter. At first, it didn’t register what it was. But then you saw the two pink lines.

Your stomach dropped. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but one stood out above the rest: She cheated on me.

“Wanda!” you called, your voice sharp and trembling. She appeared in the doorway, her face pale when she saw what you were holding.

“It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, her hands raised as if to calm you.

You scoffed, your chest tightening with anger and hurt. “Not what I think? Then explain this to me, Wanda, because it sure looks like you’ve been hiding something pretty big.”

“It’s yours,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. “The baby is yours.”

The words hit you like a freight train. “What?” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “No… no, we haven’t even talked about this. We never…” Your breathing quickened as panic set in. “I can’t do this. I can’t be a parent. I don’t know how.”

“Y/N please,” Wanda pleaded, her voice rising. She stepped closer, her eyes filled with desperation. “We can handle this. Together. Please, just listen—”

“Listen to what?” you snapped, your voice cracking. “That you decided to keep this from me? That you didn’t even think to talk to me about something this big? How could you, Wanda?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” she shouted back, tears streaming down her face now. “I was scared, okay? I… I didn’t know how you’d react. I’ve seen how you get when we even talk about the future, and I… I panicked.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “So you just decided to keep it to yourself? To make this decision for both of us?”

“I didn’t make any decisions,” she shot back. “I’m still trying to figure it out, just like you. But you… you’re running away before we can even talk about it.”

“Because I’m not ready for this!” you yelled, your voice echoing through the room. “I don’t know how to be a parent, Wanda. I don’t even know if I want to be a parent.”

Her face crumpled at your words, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs. You felt a pang of guilt, but the fear and anger coursing through you were too overwhelming.

“I need time,” you said finally, your voice breaking. Without another word, you turned and left, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in your ears.

You found yourself at a bar, drowning your panic in shot after shot of whiskey. The fear clawed at your chest, and no amount of alcohol could quiet the voices in your head. Memories of your parents flashed through your mind—the yelling, the tears, the chaos.

Your father’s voice was always loud, sharp, biting. He had a temper that seemed to ignite over the smallest things, leaving you walking on eggshells every moment you were around him. Your mother, though softer, wasn’t much better. Her silence often felt as cutting as his words. She would retreat, disappearing into herself, leaving you to navigate the storm alone. You could still remember the fights—so loud, so consuming. Nights spent curled up in your room, covering your ears as the walls shook with their screaming matches.

When they finally left, it didn’t feel like relief. Your father slammed the door with a suitcase in hand, his angry footsteps echoing in your memory. Your mother stayed for a while, but her emptiness was suffocating. Then she too was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of what a family should have been. They had both vanished from your life in different ways, but their absence carried the same message: You’re not worth staying for.

And now, here you were, standing on the precipice of creating a family of your own. The idea of it filled you with dread. What if you turned out just like them? What if you failed the way they did? What if you hurt the people you loved because that was all you’d ever known? The fear was paralyzing.

Yet, despite that fear, there was another feeling that cut through the haze of alcohol and self-loathing. Love. Love for Wanda. Love for the way she looked at you like you mattered, like you were worth something. Love for the way she could make you laugh even on your worst days. Love for the possibility of something good, something real. But was love enough to outweigh the fear?

Hours later, you stumbled into the Avengers Compound, your legs barely carrying you. The common area was dimly lit, and there she was, sitting on the couch, her eyes red from crying. Wanda shot up the moment she saw you, rushing to your side.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. She steadied you as you nearly collapsed, her arms strong and grounding despite your drunken state.

“Wanda,” you slurred, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a parent. What if I ruin everything? What if I ruin them? I… I don’t want to hurt you, or… or our baby.”

Her face softened, and she guided you to sit down, keeping her hands on your shoulders as if to anchor you.

“You think I’m not scared too?” she said, her voice breaking as she held you close. “Do you think I have all the answers? I don’t. But I know one thing—I love you, and I want to do this with you. Please don’t shut me out. Don’t run from me.”

“I’m not running,” you said, your voice cracking as you sobbed into her shoulder. “I… I just don’t know how to be anything other than scared. My parents were a mess, Wanda. They destroyed each other, and they destroyed me. What if I… what if I’m just like them?”

“You’re not them,” Wanda said firmly, her hands cupping your face. Her thumbs brushed away your tears, her touch gentle but steady. “You’re kind, and loving, and you’ve already shown me how much you care. That’s what matters. You don’t have to be perfect. We just have to love them, and each other. We can do this.”

You looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but warmth and determination. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for how I reacted. I… I love you so much, Wanda. I don’t think I ever thought I’d be this happy, and it scares me. But the thought of losing you scares me even more.”

Wanda’s lips quivered as she smiled through her own tears. “I love you too,” she said, her voice soft and full of emotion. “And you’re not going to lose me. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you said, your voice breaking again. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to. I promise.”

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, her hands still cradling your face. “You already do,” she whispered against your lips. “And you’ll be an amazing parent. I know you will.”

The two of you sat there, holding each other as the weight of the night slowly lifted. It wouldn’t be easy—you knew that. But as long as you had Wanda by your side, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could face whatever came next. Together.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eleven

Steve watches as Eddie positions himself at the breakfast bar. He easily swings up the end of his tail, the final couple of feet laid out on the chopping board.

He slices a thick piece, turning it and cutting it into neat chunks. It looks like raw steak inside. He cuts a thicker slice, making more chunks, then he does it again.

Next to him, Robin picks up the chunks and slides them onto metal skewers, “thanks Eddie, these will go great on the grill.”

“Yeah, well, we need to get rid of it at some point, might as well use it up now-”

Steve wakes up choking. He doesn’t make a noise, or at least, he doesn’t think he has. He just lies there, heart beating frantically, eyes wet, telling himself again and again, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

Steve lies there, waiting for his heart to calm and his breathing to even out, the sweaty flush on his skin slowly cools. He really needs to go back to sleep, but he knows already that he probably won’t be able to settle.

He wants to talk to Eddie. Wants to see him. Doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to sleep without reassuring himself that Eddie actually is okay which – okay, that’s a bit ridiculous, but he just...needs to. For his own sanity.

Steve blinks gritty eyes at the clock, nearly half three in the morning. His parents are down the hall in their room, and Eddie is at Hopper’s cabin, hopefully asleep on the couch, and there’s not much Steve can do about that.

He lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, willing himself to relax. The more he tries, the less likely it becomes, until it hits him; the walkie.

He rolls out of bed, and feeling a little bad for waking Eddie up, makes sure it’s on their channel and the volume is down low before holding down the trigger to speak, “Eddie?”

Nothing. Silence. God Steve is an absolute shit for doing this, and he hopes it’s not so loud that he wakes Hopper or El. He resolves to try one more, if this doesn’t work he will just have to make himself leave it alone and go back to bed, “Eddie?”

There’s a few seconds of silence this time, before a quiet crackle of static, “Stee?”

“Sorry to wake you up buddy, are you okay?”

“Eddidie fine. Pear and grape for din-ner. El Eddidie dance. Mus-ic. Movie on TV. Clean teeth. Couch sleep. Blanket. Stee good?”

“That’s...really good Buddy. Yeah, I’m fine, just had a bad dream,” Steve wants to ask about the dancing and the music and what the movie was and everything else Eddie has been up to today, but it’s the middle of the night, and it would be selfish to keep Eddie talking, “you should sleep.”

“Stee bad dream tell Eddidie? Dark TV tell?”

Steve thinks for a second, “I dreamed you got hurt. Eddie ow. Many ow, really bad. I was...scared.”

There’s a few seconds silence before Eddie replies, “Eddidie no ow.”

“No, I know buddy, but thank you for telling me, we should get some sleep. Night.”

“Stee perfect.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

Steve’s been lying in bed for a full minute before he realizes what he’s just said. It doesn’t really matter; Eddie doesn’t know what it means.

Stupid brunch. Stupid brunch that stopped Steve visiting Eddie before work. Stupid parents. Stupid Keith and his stupid duty rosta so stupid Robin is at stupid work and she couldn’t come to stupid brunch. His parents are so much nicer when she’s there; something to do with keeping up appearances in front of strangers or whatever, Steve knows why they do it. It’s not because they actually like Robin or anything. Steve's pretty sure his parents don;t actually like anyone, not even each other.

Steve sits in his car and sighs. Watches as the door cracks open and the light spills out. Eddie sitting there in his blue sweater. As Steve watches, he lifts his hand and gives a little wave. Steve shouldn’t be visiting this late really, but he couldn’t miss a day. It’s not fair on Eddie, for one thing, being left here like this, when he doesn’t really understand why.

Steve gets out of the car and jogs over to the house, Eddie letting him in. El’s not there, Steve figures she’s already in bed. Hopper’s putting dishes in the kitchen when Steve comes in, “sorry I’m so late Hop.”

Hopper shrugs, “doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed anyway, Eddie, get the lights and lock up before sleep, okay?”

Eddie nods, “make dark. Key lock make safe.”

“You got it. Night kids.”

“Night Hop.”

“Night Hopper.”

Steve throws himself down on the couch; today has just sucked all the way through, Eddie climbs up next to Steve, muttering, “Eddidie not kid,” under his breath.

Steve snorts a laugh, Eddie clearly does not want to be lumped into the same category as the, ‘mongrels,’ “if you’re not a kid, what are you?”

Eddie thinks for a second, the points past Steve, “book please,” Steve hands it over, leaning close to watch Eddie as he thumbs his way with fair accuracy to the page he wants; Steve really should get him some more books. He’s also got to thank El for working on Eddie’s manners.

It’s the frog page again.

Eddie points to the ‘froglet’, “Eddidie.”

“So...like a teenager?” Steve hazards vaguely. Steve figured Eddie is the same age as him, more or less, just because the human parts look the same and are roughly the same size; it’s not really anything to go on though. Steve points, “when do you grow into a frog?”

“Later.”

“What?”

Eddie nods, “later.”

“Eddie...are you going to get legs?” Steve has to be sure. Has to understand what Eddie is saying.

“Legs?”

Steve lifts his feet off the floor, waving his legs up and down a little, trying not to get too excited before he's sure, pointing, “legs.”

“Yes. Eddidie legs later.”

All of the worry Steve's been harboring about what to do with Eddie just...lifts. He knows Eddie couldn't live with him, hidden away, forever...but the thought of releasing Eddie somewhere. Leaving him alone, worrying about what would happen if people found him. Never seeing him again, all of it was tearing at Steve inside, a burden he didn't know how to answer, “Eddie! Why didn’t you tell me! This is awesome-”

“Legs bad.”

“What…why?”

Eddie closes the book, looking sad again, he takes Steve’s hand, “called?”

“That’s my hand buddy...and those parts are fingers,” Steve lets Eddie link their fingers together, the webbing preventing them locking together fully, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie shuffles closer, turning his body into Steve’s, “called?” Eddie uses his free hand to point to Steve’s eyes.

“Eyes, buddy,” Eddie’s finger makes contact as he shifts in the seat to lean ever closer, tail pressed tight to Steve’s thigh, he traces Steve’s brow, “eye brows.” Eddie’s finger, his black, rounded claw traces along Steve’s nose, “nose.” Steve can’t move, doesn’t feel like he can breathe really as he waits for what comes next. Eddie’s fingertip traces Steve’s bottom lip, ever so gently he touches, leaving a tingling on Steve's skin, “lips. Lips and...mouth.”

Eddie nods, satisfied, taking his hand away, and Steve can finally take another breath, even with the distraction of Eddie's touch, he can’t avoid the sense of mounting horror, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie has to drop Steve’s hand to bring both up to his face, he gets as far as pressing his palms to his cheeks before Steve grabs his wrists, dragging his hands away from his face, “no,” Steve says, horrified, “no, that’s not what happens. You’re wrong, that can’t be what happens.”

Eddie nods, sad but sure.

“No. Eddie no, that’s not- I won’t let you,” and Steve knows as he says it he has no fucking control over this whatsoever.

Eddie takes Steve hand again, pushes it against the back of his head. Steve’s fingers worm their way in, feeling that familiar starburst of ridges. They’re familiar as the rest of Eddie now, Steve’s been washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day for weeks and weeks now. Steve fingers find the place where they meet in the middle, right at the back of Eddie’s head, “mouth.”

Steve fights the instinct to pull his hand away in horror. He forces himself to keep it there; it won’t hurt him, Steve can feel the ridges of Eddie’s fucking skull, hard and unforgiving under his skin and hair. That can’t be right, it just doesn’t make any sense but...Steve can imagine it, the petals of a Demogorgon’s mouth unfolding.

“Stee?”

Steve’s voice breaks when he speaks, and he can feel the first tear break free, rolling down his cheek, “yeah buddy?”

“El tell Eddidie...Stee tell Eddidie I love you. El tell Eddidie love...Eddidie love Stee too. Stee perfect.”

“Oh buddy," Steve's voice cracks, "...yeah. Yeah, I love you too,” Eddie wipes away Steve’s tears with his knuckle, licking the water off his finger. Eddie half climbs and Steve half pulls Eddie into his lap. They hold each other tight, Eddie gently nuzzling his face back and forth against Steve's cheek, against his neck, breathing in Steve's hair and skin.

Steve does the same to Eddie, hands tight on Eddie's tail, on his back, in his hair, wherever he can reach to touch, committing Eddie to memory.

Steve doesn’t go home, he can’t. He just sleeps, fully clothed, on the couch, pulling Eddie down on top of him, and holding him close.

Steve and El sit on the stoop, all bundled up. Steve’s got a coffee and El’s got a hot chocolate. They watch as Eddie moves along the tree line; he’s collecting pine cones and burying them. Planting seeds. He uses his hard, blunt claws to dig; the earth is maybe a little harder because of the cold, but it doesn’t seem to bother or hinder Eddie at all.

It feels precious now, watching Eddie. It feels like the time he has with him is suddenly short; that he needs to make the most of every single second. Steve tries to absorb all of it, the way Eddie moves. The look on his face as he examines his finds, his fingers, the dark nails. The way the light is absorbed by the dark matte black of his tail. The way his hair gets blown around in the fresh breeze, shining a little in the light, thanks to Steve’s hair care regimen.

How he smiles at Steve when he catches him watching.

Steve tries not to think about last night; it’s too much to absorb. Too strange; surely Eddie cannot be right. But then Steve reminds himself of where Eddie came from, and the fact that the girl he’s sitting next too can move shit with her mind, and figures he has to adjust his expectations around what could be normal.

“He does this a lot,” El says.

“Huh, maybe he does this back home too; always wondered what he gets up to when I’m not there.”

“He does,” El says with certainty.

“Oh have you...have you looked. Inside his head?”

“Only a little. Just to check if he’s alright and...when he’s struggling to find the words.”

“Oh. Yeah. Is it...is it very different?”

“Yes.” El seems to think for a moment, “he thinks in...pictures. People think in words a lot. And he pretty much only thinks about now. People think about a lot of things at once, the past, the future. Eddie doesn’t do that, there’s mostly only now.”

“Huh...I guess that...makes sense.”

Eddie comes back to the foot of the steps, brushing loose things from the woods off the sweater of the day, “Hopper now,” he informs them.

“Oh yeah Buddy? Can you hear his car?” Steve touches his ear.

“Hopper car yes, Eddidie hear. Hopper inied work.”

Steve can’t help but smile, even though it feels like he wants so cry at the same time, “what is Hopper’s job, do you know?”

Eddie nods, “Hopper Hawkins Indiana safe.”

“Yeah buddy, that’s exactly right.”

Part Thirteen

[ducklingpia]

⋆˙⟡ Lads K-pop boy band HCs ⋆˙⟡

I couldn’t stop thinking about Lads boys in their K-pop ERA after seeing their chibi performance so here it is. I’m brain-rotting I need to get this out I'm sorry if it’s too silly 🧍🏻‍♂️

── .✦ Xavier

Position: Oldest hyung/ Main visual/ lead vocals

He will be the first member to get introduced

The internet WENT CRAZY after that

Has a nickname “Nation’s first love”

Everyone assumed he’s the maknae because of his baby face and cute image. He always looks so cute without trying.

Is actually the oldest

Usually has really calm personality. Doesn’t talk much but becomes the most chaotic duo when paired with Rafayel.

Zayne has to keep his eyes out for these two every time they are near each other.

Master of ‘aegyo’ can do the cringiest aegyo with absolutely no shame.

In terms of skills, he got a very soft- mellow singing voice. I think he will be the type to do well at what he was told to do. Can sing pretty high note. His dancing is also really good. He usually slays if he had enough practice. But can’t really do free style.

Mostly just being chill on stages. He doesn’t really give it his 100% if it’s not his part. Sometimes he will slack off a little bit when he’s in the back (Caleb is NOT happy about it)

Lowkey a musical genius, Got credits in 85% of the songs.

I think this is where his passion lies. He composes most of the songs for the group.

Xavier is the composer& producer while Rafayel& Sylus will be in charge of the lyrics.

The first one to go on collaboration.

Like one day some big name solo singer will release a song and it’s - Prod. Xavier ???? 😭

And that song will blow-up bc it’s catchy as hell?? 😭😭

Everyone were confused

All the members were confused

Also lowkey a social butterfly.

Has the most friends outside the group and also senior friends in the industry.

One time the group were on variety show with the most famous host and he was like “Yo Xavier, did you eat the pears my mom gave to you yet?” and all the members were like “Huh??”

Apparently he and Xavier went out for a drink 3 days ago??

“But you told me you were busy when I ask you to go drink with me that day?” – probably Sylus lol 💀

I think he will go on the production route after the group disbanded. Will become the most respectable producer in the industry and keep a low-profile. He will produces hits after hits for other singers.

── .✦ Zayne

Position: Leader/ Sub-Vocals / Lead Dancer

I think everyone can agreed that he will be the perfect leader of the group

Gives off Dad energy in the group despite being the middle child.

Got Street-casting due to his handsomeness. The staff had to run after him and insists he comes to audition the next day.

Went a bit viral in his trainee days while he’s outside the building. He secretly got photographed and everybody were wonder who’s this super handsome boy was.

So he already has fans even before debut.

I think he will have a pretty low-baritone voice when singing. His singing skills are decent but doesn’t really stand out when first debut. But he will improves significantly later down the line and takes Xavier’s lead vocal spot.

His dance moves are really sharp and clean but sometimes can be a little bit stiff. Doesn’t do much facial expression during performance.

He made it up with his INSANE face card tho

The Unofficial visual. His face card and auras always served.

I HC that him and Caleb will spend their time practice choreographs together a lot and became really close.

Taking good care of everyone, He’s the main cook in the dorm.

Manager’s favorite boy, Also all the staffs love him

The only member who can wakes Xavier up and get him out of bed on time (Xavier is terrified of him but will never admit it)

Has a soft spot for Rafayel. Constantly checking after him and make sure that man doesn’t injured himself doing something silly during promotions

Him and Rafayel ended up having the biggest shippers in the fandom

Half of the female idols have a crush on him.

The first one who got into acting career. He got the male-lead role in a classic romance drama plot and absolutely ATE. Became a new star phenomenon.

Constantly winning ‘The actor you wanted to introduce to your parent on this holiday’ poll

Has perfect chemistry with every co-stars he works with. The video clips about how he treats his female lead like a gentlemen always went viral.

Will have a successful acting career after the group disbanded.

── .✦ Rafayel

Position: Maknae / Main Vocals / lead dancer / Center / Ace of the group

I HC him to be that all- rounder member who can do everything and slayed it all.

A golden maknae. Naturally talented in everything he puts his mind to, Fast learner, only takes him 1-2 times to remember choreographs or lyrics. (kinda like JJK from BTS)

Really passionate member but get bored easily. He will learn new talent skill in every comeback and moves to the new one.

Extremely charming and charismatic while performing. No matter who your bias is, your eyes will always drip to him on stages

Has THE MOST angelic voice. Singing is like breathing for him. Can sing a really, really, really high note.

His voice is also really unique, you can recognize his voice immediately in every songs he’s in.

His dancing skills are excellent too, his movements are really elegant and fluid. Can do free style no problem but sometimes he will unintentionally tweaks the movement and became out of sync with the rest of the team

REFUSED to call Caleb ‘Hyung’

Always insist that Caleb is also the maknae too lol

These two are always bickering or play fighting in the background in every behind the scene videos

HATES doing aegyo but it’s his duty for the Maknae. Easily get embarrassed by it but always trying his best (All the fans think he’s very good at it)

He got the most Anti fans in the group

Like this man will get hate comments in every corners of the internet?

He’s not bothered by it in the slightest tho

And due to that reason he also got the most overprotective& loyal fan base

Most likely be the first member to have a solo career

Everyone thought he will comes out with dance- poppy album but he releases a full on slow-indie sounds???

Surprisingly the album is so chill and easy to listen to plus his insane vocals the album ended up topping no.1 on several charts

I think he will continued his solo career after disbanded and appears as a mentor/ judge in several survival shows.

He will becomes a really good mentor, although he can be a bit scary and cut- throat in his comment sometimes.

── .✦ Sylus

Position: Main Rapper

The second oldest after Xavier, but everyone thought he’s the oldest at first

Kinda broke the internet when he get introduced too.

Has that uncle energy in the group. Always in the background supporting the maknae-line when they’re about to get into trouble.

Has the most male fans

Also has the most Solo stans

Doesn’t do much in the performance. Both his singing and dancing skills are below other members but ALWAYS serves face.

Also HIS VOICE.

Has the opening line in the song when he would say some words and everyone will be like ‘oh my god’ (it’s kinda like that felix guy from Straykids)

70% of his rapping skills came from his voice. He does improves a lot overtime tho

Start writing his own verses in the song due to Xavier encouragement and developed a song-writing talent.

Opposite from Zayne, Half of the male idols have a crush on him.

Surprisingly really good at variety shows.

Every time the group were on red carpet event. He will be in the headline on every reports the next day bc of his insane face card.

Win that “most handsome man in the world” poll every years

Him and Rafayel are the English speakers of the group when promote overseas

Has the BIGGEST international fan base. Goes viral every time the group went overseas

He will dip his toes into acting career a little. Mostly playing the 2nd male-lead or the villain.

One time he play the villain in this movie, they went on promotional activities and everybody is shipping the female- lead with him instead of the male lead?? 💀

He just has this chemistry & sexual tension with everything including the wall pls 👏🏻

The first member who got a brand-deal with this big fashion house, also ended up walking the runway (I’m thinking Prada)

Randomly dropped his solo mixed-tape one day and the fandom went WILD

I think his mix-tape will not be as commercially successful as other members bc it’s not the easiest to listen to, but it will later became a cult classic and got critically acclaimed.  

── .✦ Caleb

Position: Main Dancer/ Sub vocals

I HC that this man is born to be a dancer

Probably learned how to dance since like 4

Staged kid. Perform on stage since he can remembered.

Got discovered by the casting staff when he performs at some random festival.

Has the least lines first debut but always got the solo break dance or center part in the performance

Joined the group really young, probably at the same time as Rafayel

He was the smallest in the group at the time up until like 15

Then on one summer when he turns 16 he went from 5’7 to like 6 fts ??? 😭

Rafayel is pissed

He continued to grow and became the tallest member … yeah, the giant maknae

Doesn’t really has much fans like other members when first debut.

But on the 2nd comeback, he has a bit of glow-up and the concept fits him SO WELL. Everybody agreed he owned that era. they gains a lot of new fans from that comeback bc of him.

Has A LOT of Noo-na fans

He used to follow Zayne around everywhere when he was younger. So Zayne still sees him as that lil brother despite him being so big now.

Became insufferable when playing games especially when paired with Rafayel, These 2 get competitive af.

Get along well with every members but prefer to hang around either Zayne or Xavier the most.

Pretty awkward with Sylus at first, but they became gym buddies as times went on

Easy- going boy most of the time but became really scary when practicing. He will catches even the most subtle slacking from the members through the wall mirror.

Will got quiet and silently staring at that member with the most cold-heart eyes.

I think he will developed a passion for teaching and coaching, probably open his own dance studio and work behind the scenes like Xavier after disbanded

That’s all I have babygirls 🫦 . Please give me your own Headcanons if you have any 🙏 waiting for somebody to brain rot together!! 👀

[bobcatblahs]

Today my random Doctor Who opinion nobody asked for is that I think each Doctor should’ve been allowed to curse, except it should be limited to *one* curse word that they could use multiple times.

My classic Doctor Who knowledge is limited, I’ve mostly seen 3/4 and of course 8.

So for this I’ll start with Eight and go forward.

Partially based on conversations with my husband because what else do you talk about at night?

Eight: Hell. ‘Hell no’ ‘What the hell’ ‘Go to hell’ it just fits. Especially with his memory issues and bizarre adventures

Nine: Fuck. Just sprinkle it anywhere. From ‘D’you mind not fuckin’ farting while I’m trying to save the world’ to ‘You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me’ in the big brother house…

Ten: Shit/Shite. Mostly used to describe the taste of the random things he licks or the situations he gets himself into. Frequently used phrase: ‘Donna don’t touch that shit’

Eleven: Damn/Dammit. Also sprinkled anywhere. ‘Take them all, dammit!’ ‘Good men don’t need any damn rules. Now’s not the time to find out why I have so damn many.’

Twelve: Fuck. Added liberally. Just. Anywhere. From anger to joy. ‘Hate is always fuckin’ foolish’ ‘Never eat fuckin’ pears’ ‘Do you think I care for you so fuckin’ little that fuckin’ betrayin’ me would make a fuckin’ difference?’

Thirteen: Back to Damn/Dammit. On occasion when necessary. ‘Dammit! If I was still a bloke, I could get on with the damn job and not have to waste time defending myself.’

Fourteen: Hell. He has plenty of what the hell moments. My personal fav and first would be ‘What the hell?! I know these teeth!’

Fifteen: C*nt. Not a word I can stomach out loud, but he’d use it in both the funny complimentary way and the insult way. Examples include ‘Ruby that dress is serving c*nt’ and ‘Lindy Pepper-Bean was a c*nt

(Idk why but that word just gives me the ick, but I know what I’m talking about with this I promise 🤣)

[i-heart-yellowstone]

John Dutton with wife reader. Him being in such a mood that even his children start to tease him and her joining in. Anything at all. Fluff/suggestive. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

With prompts; "Are you really this happy 24/7?"

"Are you really this grumpy 24/7?"

"Are you really this happy 24/7?"

Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206

Exiting through the front door I joined my husband on the old wooden porch swing that overlooked the main part of the property we called our home. He moved one of his arms and laid it back down over my shoulder once I had taken my spot right by his side.

The sounds of nature were the only things we could hear for once. There weren't any of his adult kids running to complain about something or him having to rush off to fight someone who wanted to take the land from us.

I thought we could live in this peaceful moment forever- unfortunately that isn’t the case when it comes to Beth Dutton.

Her car quickly came down the gravel and dust driveway where she parked at the end of the steps. She slammed her car door walking up to the porch seeing me and her father sitting on the swing. “Are you really this happy 24/7?" She bluntly asked the two of us.

I began choking on the coffee I was drinking from one of the kitchen mugs, not expecting that to come from her mouth. “What! Why would you ask that?”

“Beth, I’m allowed to be happy with another woman.” Her father John remarked back at his only daughter.

His only daughter wasn’t exactly happy when he had brought me to the ranch a couple of times for our dates. And she especially wasn’t happy when we had gotten married a year later. I knew why though, it was because I wasn’t her mother. To her I was he step-mother.

We had done our best to be nice to one another but apparently she hadn’t fully accepted that her father could be happy with another woman just yet and we’ve been married for almost five years now.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “Come on, daddy. I mean you can’t really be happy all the time with her.”

“Beth!” John grumbled running a frustrated hand down his face.

I held my coffee mug in both hands, nudging my husband with my elbow in a joking manner. “Oh come on, John. You don’t have to fake being happy with me.”

“Y/n, I’m not faking it.” John shifted on his side of the porch swing so that he was directly facing me.

I tilted my head to the side knowing I could tease him for a little longer before he would figure out that I was entirely joking with the love of my life. “Are you sure? I mean I doubt I’m anything like Evelyn was in bed.”

“My mom popped out four kids in total. How many kids do you want to give birth to Y/n?” Beth asked, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “I’m going to get you someone better.”

John rolled his eyes, sitting his coffee mug down on the side table with frustration in his tone. “Beth, that's too far. Okay. I’m married to Y/n and you’re just going to have to accept it.”

“It’s going to happen, daddy.” She smirked in my direction.

Leaning back in the porch swing I almost couldn’t contain my laughter. “Oh god.”

“This whole man-to-man shit thing we got going is becoming a little ridiculous.” John shook his head wishing this would end.

His daughter spun on her heels walking up to the front door. “I’m on it.”

“Beth!”

She called back. “I got it.”

“Beth!” Her father shouted at her.

She shut the front door and hollering beforehand. “I’m totally on it!”

Once we were back alone together on the front porch I touched the side of his face making him look me in the eye. “Honey, I was just joking when I said I don’t enjoy being married to you.”

“But you said-“

I cut him chuckling lightly. “It was a lie, John. I was just trying to make your daughter happy. The only way I think she will like me is when she sees me start agreeing with her on some things.”

“Thank god.” He sighed heavily, slumping his shoulders in relief.

Resting one hand against the side of his face I felt him lean into my palm. “I can’t imagine being married to anyone else but you.”

“I didn’t realize that I was missing having a woman in my life until I saw your truck break down on the side of the road that morning.” He recalled causing a smile to grace my lips at the memory.

When I had gotten a flat tire on my truck right outside the Dutton fence line I thought I would have to call someone to tow me to a shop which would take hours until I saw a man around my age rode up to the fence on a horse wearing a white cowboy hat.

Leaning forward I kissed him slowly, moving my other hand behind his neck making the gentle kiss deeper until he broke it suggesting a common morning routine for us. “How do you feel about going for a ride?”

“Have you not met me? I would love nothing more.” Getting up from the swing I finished the last of my coffee, rushing towards the wooden stairs heading straight to the barn walking backward. Yelling with my hands cupped around my mouth. “Meet me at the barn. I’ll saddle the horses, just don’t forget my hat.”

John groaned getting to his feet, calling back. “You’re hat. I remember the white hat belonging to me when we met.”

“What’s mine is yours, honey!” I laughed with a cheerful grin.

He shook his head going to grab what we needed to ride our horses, truly treasuring the joy he felt once falling in love with you. “I love her. Let’s go to work.” It would take time for Beth to accept her father could be happy with someone else than her mother, but he wasn’t going to not live his life simply waiting for her approval.

[hiraizyo]

close to my heart, i hold you dearly

synopsis — as you and megan continue the fake relationship during a double date, it becomes harder to deny your feelings for one another.

tags — fake dating trope, non idol au, mutual pining, masc!reader

now playing: tell her how you feel, dream wave.

a/n: yikes srry i took so long with part 2 😓 i tried my best w build up of tension & the pacing, tbh yn and megan are just idiots in love. implied hair theory in love (??) 😛megan going back to natural

++ links: part i. this features yunjin my favorite side character, she’s really just a plot device to me (JOKES) decided to make this extra long since i made y’all wait !!!

“yun, for the last time, i am not going on a double date with you.” groaning out, you glared at the girl before you who had her lips jutted out and puppy eyes on display.

yunjin wailed, throwing her arms up. “yn, please! i need you to do this for me.”

currently, the two of you were in the ginger’s college dormitory. the initial plan was to study together, since finals were coming up in a few weeks, but the american had other plans. from the moment you stepped into her room, she pushed her books aside and brought up her proposal, which she was now trying to convince you to do.

the glare you sent the girl didn’t faze her, nor did it falter her confidence that you would agree. she didn’t give you another chance to respond, talking animatedly.

“its only dinner, and it’s not like i’m setting you up with someone! obviously you’ll bring megan.” she said, watching as you stood up from the couch.

you froze for a second, glancing over your shoulder. shaking the surprise off, you continued the short walk to fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, loosening the bottles cap.

“how do you know about megan?” you questioned, taking a sip from the bottle.

yunjin turned around on the couch to face you, a mischievous smile on her face. “well, sophia mentioned she saw you two at some party.” she drawled out, “where do you think i got the idea for the double date?”

you rolled your eyes at her ‘brilliant’ plan, twisting the lid of the bottle closed. you leaned against the counter, looking at your friend.

“isn’t this your first date with soph?” you asked her, eyebrows knitted together.

yunjin nodded her head, though she had a bashful look on her face. “yes, but— god, you know how nervous i get around her. what if i mess up and say something stupid?”

you laughed at her words, because yeah, it was true that yunjin was a bit of a nervous loser around any pretty girl. you were sure she’d mess up in someway with the filipino girl.

she got up from the couch, walking towards you. “i need you there as, like, a buffer for me, and since you and megan are already together, it would be less awkward!”

you tilted your head to the side and stared at the girl. her eyes were wide with distress, hands put together as if she was praying. it was an amusing sight, and you couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle at her antics.

“how are we friends?”

yunjin sighed exasperatedly and gripped her hands onto your forearms. her hold was tight, and you could tell she was close to losing it if you didn’t say yes.

“please, please,” she begged, “when have i ever asked you to do anything for me?”

you looked at her in disbelief, reminding her of a past experience, “uh— first year? you made me bring gifts to your crush for three weeks straight, and she ended up thinking i had a crush on her!”

yunjin’s lips fell in a straight line at your response, looking off to the side. “okay, fine, i admit that was a bit extreme. but i really like sophia, so pretty, pretty please will you go with us?”

“alright, calm down!” you pulled her arms off you, and laughed lightly at the hope that spread in her eyes. “i’ll talk to megan about it.”

yunjin let out a loud yell, thanking you and pressed her body against yours in a quick hug. you barely had time to reciprocate the hug before she was pulling away. she smiled widely, her pearly whites on display, and ran around the dorm in search of her phone to let sophia know you’d be joining them.

you laughed again at her frantic movements and shuffled over to the couch, “can we get on with studying now?”

“ugh, you are such a nerd.”

megan’s room was quiet, aside from the rolling credits of the movie you’d just finished. it had been over a month since the fake relationship began, and the two of you had grown closer as friends. you’d go out for dates, planned movie nights, had dinner with each others parents.

it was fun to have megan as a friend. she was lively, unashamed to be herself around you. she laughed as loud as she wanted, ranted to you about her newest obsessions, told you stories from her childhood, embarrassing and all. megan brought a side out of you that you didn’t even know existed, and the ongoing idea of being ‘together’ caused many inside jokes and teasing.

what warmed your heart the most was the way she got along with your younger sister. hyein was known to be somewhat of a menace, she also rarely liked the girls you brought home, and she never hid that from you. however, with megan, your sister loved talking to her, wanting to be with you and her anytime the hawaiian girl came over.

that made it difficult to have a moment alone with her, which was why you spent most of your time together at megan’s place, like now.

“oh, i almost forgot!” you gasped out once megan paused the movie.

she looked at you in confusion as you got off the bed and reached for your tote bag, digging inside and pulled out a square, silver box. your back was to megan, so she couldn’t see what was in your hand, her curiosity piquing.

the box had a bow wrapped around the centre, it delicately resting in your hands as you plopped back on the bed, crossing your legs underneath you and glanced at her with a small smile. megan moved to sit opposite you, her gaze filled with interest, but also had a softness to it, like it always did when she looked at you.

“for you.” you said, lightly.

megan took the box from you, her hands brushing against yours tenderly, causing your heart to stutter from the brief contact. it was a foreign feeling to you, yet you brushed it off in the moment.

she frowned as you watched her slowly undo the bow. megan didn’t say anything while she took the top lid off, shrieking once she noticed the shining metal in the light, taking a pair of earrings out and holding it in her palm.

“yn…” she breathlessly said, eyes connecting with yours. “these are so beautiful.”

you shrugged nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t a big deal. then, you wiggled your eyebrows teasingly, “happy fake anniversary.”

megan burst out in giggles at your words and leaped forward to wrap her arms around your neck, the earrings being clutched tightly in her hand. there was a bit of force as you were pushed back, leaning on yours arms while you supported yours and megan’s weight.

“oh my god, you dork!” she muttered against your ear, “i can’t believe you would get me this for a fake anniversary.”

you reached up to caress the back of her head, smiling to yourself, chest filling with comfort. as nice as it was to see the girl so happy, you regretfully let out, “eh, that’s not the only reason…”

megan leaned back, her arms falling beside her and once again looking confused. you shyly placed your hand on the side of your neck, avoiding her gaze.

“yunjin wants us to go on a double date.” you explained, sucking in a breath. “with her and sophia.”

“oh,” megan paused, looking at the earrings in her palm, deep in thought. she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little sad over the gift having an ulterior motive. “so, this is bribery then?”

“well, no.” you took one earring from her and brought it up to megan’s earlobe, testing how it would look on her. “i also wanted to get you something nice.”

megan tried to ignore the feeling of your skin brushing against her jaw, your touch like a burn. while you peered over how the earring suited her, megan’s eyes were watching you, silently thinking that you looked stunning in the lighting of her room, yet she forced herself to break her gaze once you placed the earring back in her palm.

“thank you, yn. when’s the date?” she questioned, searching for the box in her messy sheets.

“next friday.” you replied, though you hadn’t noticed the slight change in her attitude as you tucked some hair behind megan’s ear, her movements pausing. “guess we’re going to have to pretend again.”

megan chortled, though it was strained. she pushed aside her feelings, settling the heavy sensation deep in her heart. she put the earrings back in the box as she bit down on her lower lip.

“we did do a pretty good job at it last time.” the ginger commented, placing the lid over the box and handed it to you so that you could put it on her nightstand.

“we did.” you agreed, leaning back against the headboard.

your mind began to fade away from the present moment, thinking back to the party; being with megan, your close proximity, her body against yours, her hands tucked under your shirt, having her against the wall, the heat you felt, kissing her.

“should we watch another movie?” you asked, snapping yourself out of a daze.

megan shook her head, “hm, no. i’m feeling a little tired.” she lied, wanting to close her eyes and forget this weird disappointment she felt.

you reached for the laptop and set it on the floor, then moved down until you were lying flat on the bed, hand wrapping around megan’s wrist and gently tugged her towards you. megan didn’t say anything, allowing you to pull her against your chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“then lets sleep.” you told her, shutting your eyes closed.

though she was unsettled by the bribery tactic, megan couldn’t help but find comfort in your hold. megan’s breath hitched in her throat. it wouldn’t be the first time you’d lay like this, having to keep up the charade of dating around her friends and your sister. there were many moments where she felt this feeling, each one more deeper than the last.

(the first time she felt it, it was during a saturday night as you settled in your couch together for a series binge watching of squid game with your sister, hyein. megan still remember how her heart stopped when she felt your hand drop below her waist, resting on her hips, her skin warm against yours. it made her dizzy, bashful, yet it seemed as if it was second nature to you.

the second time she felt it was while you were over at lara’s place. it was a hot, summer evening, the heat having tired everyone out, and you’d fallen asleep against megan. she freaked, wondering how to move you so you’d be more comfortable, until you pulled her towards you, your hold tight, and her heart raced from the way you unknowingly reached for her. she had no choice but to calm her racing heart and try to sleep with out.

the third time she felt it, surprisingly was not in your arms. instead, it was during a moment of heavy sickness for her. you’d come over, bearing with some warm soup and orchids, her favorite, and— wait, she didn’t remember telling you that. megan didn’t question it though, and despite her attempts of keeping you away, as she didn’t want you getting sick too, you stayed, until she was better, until she was feeling like herself.

later that day, megan would find out you’d actually asked lara what her preference for flowers were.

she saw it — you cared for her.)

but now, in this moment, as your fingers lazily rubbed circles in her hair, how perfectly she fit in your arms, megan felt her heart constrict in her chest.

the hawaiian knew, then and there, this wasn’t what one was supposed to experience during a fake relationship. she wondered, did you feel that too? did you also have these brief, fleeting moments of wanting more?

megan couldn’t remember the last time she felt this way, but she hoped — prayed — you’d be there to catch her.

the dim lighting of the restaurant created a warm glow, smooth jazz music playing. the place yunjin told you to meet at was far from classy, yet it wasn’t so casual either. it was more in between, even to give sophia a good impression of her.

the waiter guided you and megan towards a booth where you caught sight of your college friend, sophia sitting beside her, deep in conversation and talking animatedly.

it was yunjin who noticed you first, the shadow of the waiter casting over the table caused her to look up. he nodded his head curtly to you, walking off to the front desk of the restaurant, while you and yunjin shared a brief embrace, sending a smile towards the filipino. megan greeted them both with a graceful hello, sliding into the booth and you followed behind her, sitting close enough that your thighs touched.

yunjin leaned back, chuckling smoothly. “finally, you’re here! i was beginning to think you wouldn’t show anymore.”

“its true, she was all fidgety and antsy.” sophia commented, looking over at yunjin with deep admiration. “it was kind of cute.”

yunjin’s cheeks flushed a deep red from the girl’s words, and you smirked at the way she practically melted once sophia reached behind her and scratched her nails on yunjin’s neck.

god, that girl was hopeless.

“we would’ve been here sooner, but someone—” you glanced at megan purposely, voice hard for a second. “—took forever to drive here.”

megan tutted, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. “you judge my driving too harshly.”

“i almost died — twice!” you screeched out, eyes wide in bewilderment, yet a smile tugged at your lips. “i’m taking us home tonight.”

your tone left no room for debate, but megan didn’t mind; she’d gladly be your passenger princess any day. the girl rolled her eyes playfully, and tugged on the knot of the tie that loosely and lowly hung around your neck.

“fine,” she huffed. “no complaints here.”

you grasped onto her hand that held onto the knot and lugged it away, scowling in a joking manner, pretending to be annoyed that she had messed it up. megan flipped your hands around so that she now grasped yours and pulled it over her shoulder, your arm now resting around it.

megan convinced herself was doing this for show. after all, both yunjin and sophia believed you were really together — you needed to play the part.

yet, she missed the way sophia glanced at you two, a hint of joy in her eyes at seeing her friend happy, especially since sophia knew how heartbroken megan was over her ex girlfriend. she could sense it was natural the way you and megan acted, you were simply drawn to one another.

sophia knew megan was feeling more like her old self, the megan before the break-up, before she had first met her ex.

“i like the new look.” the filipino voiced, leaning forward as she looked at megan.

the girl in question glanced down at her hair that flew over her shoulders, “yeah?” she laughed, smiling widely. “i said i’d go back to black.”

“it really does suit you, meg.” yunjin agreed, offering a shy smile. “but i’m a little sad we aren’t twinning anymore.” she touched her own ginger hair, looking down at it.

megan smiled even more, till her eyes turned into crescents. it was a sight to behold, this bright energy and glow that radiated from her, and you felt your own smile grow from her happiness alone.

“maybe dye your hair and we’d match again.” megan shrugged, offering a teasing look to the american.

yunjin looked in genuine thought as she contemplated the idea. sophia noticed and pouted, her glossy lips shining in the light of the restaurant.

“aw no, i quite like ginger yun.” she prodded.

you couldn’t help but cackle as your friend stumbled over her words, stuttering out a barely coherent sentence. megan, who was much more discreet than you, stifled a laugh as well.

yunjin looked down at sophia, her eyes shining with love, completely her mercy. “oh… s-sure! anything you like, i’ll be.”

sophia found the american’s behavior endearing, smirking to herself, as if she knew of the power she held. she then simply shook her head, though she smiled adoringly, and began a conversation with megan off to side.

you leaned forward across the table. yunjin wasn’t that far away, so your arm still hung partially over megan’s shoulder while the distance between you and the ginger became less.

you squinted at her, “jesus chris, get a fucking grip, dude.”

yunjin groaned internally, her whole body felt flushed. she was way too nervous for this, her heart thumping erratically.

“i’m trying,” yunjin hissed. “this is exactly why you’re here.” she reminded you, quickly taking a much needed sip of water.

you were about to respond when a waiter walked over, inquiring if you were ready to order. you leaned away from yunjin, who stared at you warningly, drawing your arm off megan’s shoulder and opened the menu, flipping through the pages until you all decided on what to eat for the night.

conversation flowed between the four of you easily while you waited for your food, exchanging laughs and talking about many different topics. at times, you and megan found yourselves wrapped in one another’s words, talking amongst each other alone, as if yunjin and sophia were nonexistent.

the dinner came to an end, plates taken away the only thing left behind was either half empty or finished glasses of drinks, and the bill already paid. it was when you were walking out the restaurant doors that you thanked yunjin for inviting you and megan out, to which the girl stared at you tauntingly.

“ah, you didn’t think this would be the only thing for tonight, did you?” she asked, the corner of her lip twitched in a sly smirk.

you looked to her with surprise, “you said it was just dinner.” coming to a stop, you quickly glanced at megan, and back to yunjin.

the four of you stood outside in the restaurant’s parking lot, the cool and crisp air a huge contrast to the warmth of inside.

“right,” yunjin nodded. “and a movie.” she divulged, smiling at the happy noise sophia let out, heart leaping once again. “there’s a drive-in movie a couple blocks away.”

you slumped forward at the news. did yunjin really have to spring this on you?

you were very prepared for a dinner date, but now there was a movie involved. and while you were completely fine at first, you wondered how you’d managed to be around megan in this predicament, especially with these weird, new feelings.

dinner was one thing, but to be with megan, in the dark — alone — was something else entirely.

yunjin was looking at you hopefully, silently pleading with you. sophia watched as you stood rooted to your spot, a little confused at your reluctancy. and megan, sweet, attentive megan, nudged your arm, drawing your attention.

“c’mon, it’ll be fun.” she mumbled lowly, looking up at you, lazy smile in place.

you glanced at her, wondering if you’d really want to do this. sophia and yunjin were still watching you, awaiting your response, and then you remembered you had to keep this charade up, because in their eyes, you and megan were girlfriends.

and you were to say no to your girlfriend?

you sighed, but your voice quickly turned into a much cheerier one. “alright, whatever my darling wants, she gets.”

“oh, get a fucking grip.” yunjin snorted, mocking you with the same words you’d used earlier.

she shook her head at you, her and sophia walking towards the car they’d come in. yunjin shouted back at you from where they were parked, telling you to follow behind her and she’d lead you to the drive-in.

while you and megan walked towards your own car, she leaned in close, her chin pressed against your forearm. “darling?”

you could already sense that teasing tone she had, pushing her away slightly. “shut up, i panicked.”

megan snickered at the top of her voice, her laugh echoing in the empty space around you and her. it didn’t take long for her laughter to die down, and she fell into little giggles here and there while you continued to walk, the car still quite a distance away. as you strolled together, like magnets, you and megan were pulled together, until your finger tips brushed against one another. your steps slowed down, walking in a leisurely pace, feeling content in the quiet that settled over you.

yunjin and sophia were a few feet away, and much like you and megan, they too were sitting on the hood of the car. you could see yunjin’s arm draped over sophia’s arm, and you were proud that the girl finally found some confidence in herself amongst nervousness.

on the other hand, you sat with your arm to yourself, not needing to play the part of a fake girlfriend since yunjin and sophia were occupied.

megan had her eyes on you for quite some time, the movie being drowned out. it wasn’t that the movie wasn’t interesting — oh no, no. if anything, the movie was fascinating, yet her attention had been on you.

the twilight glow of the large movie screen illuminated your face. she stared up at you, as if memorizing your features. the sharp curve of your jaw, the length of your eyelashes, the slow blinks of your eyelids as you watched the movie.

it was rather difficult to ignore the feeling of her gaze on you, and after much time, you’d decided to call her out on it.

“i can feel you staring, y’know.” you tilted your head to look at her, raising an eyebrow. she looked away, now facing the large screen.

megan choked on a breath, “i-i wasn’t…! i was just admiring.” she explained, her erratic heart racing beneath her ribcage.

you hummed, leaning closer to her. “is it to your liking?” you questioned. it was now your turn to stare at her side profile, megan’s throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed nervously.

she glanced at you from her peripheral vision, “definitely.” megan concluded, finally turning to face you.

you didn’t realize exactly how close you were until she was looking at you, her honey eyes staring back into your own. your mouth dried, and for a moment you felt feint. megan was within such close reach, if you moved even an inch you’d be skin to skin with her, so close that you could smell the scent of her lip glass, and without realizing it, your eyes had dropped to her lips.

they shone despite it being dark out, courtesy of lighting from the big screen. they were pink, and looked as soft as ever.

it was brief, having your gaze on her lips, and then you looked back into her eyes, your mind feeling fuzzy. megan stared back at you, both of you silent, as if saying any word would shatter the tension that settled over you like a blanket. the stares continued, the eye contact becoming unbearable.

“i think we did another great job.” she murmured, voice shaky, the nerves obvious.

“we’re getting too good at this.” you breathed out, wanting to pull megan close, press her lips against yours.

megan nodded in agreement, as though you both knew this wasn’t pretend at all. the dark haired girl’s eyes fluttered down to your lips, but you’d denied one another the satisfaction, taking a sharp breath in and both turning to focus on the movie.

it was now you who stole glances, megan’s side profile was alluring. she looked stunning with her black hair, your jacket hanging off her shoulders, and— holy shit, when did megan look so good?

you knew megan definitely had admirers, given her beauty, but as you stared at her, longingly, she had never looked more captivating that in this moment.

this was megan in all her glory, and she was utter perfection.

your head spun, suddenly feeling your heart stutter and jump. your stomach felt queasy, being twisted and undone over and over. your mouth dried again. this feeling wasn’t new to you, many times before had you felt this way for other girls, but with megan, this was more — this was a deeper, raw, undeniable connection.

you looked away, attention now on the movie, your mind reeling from the sudden awareness that was no longer fake.

your hand dropped from where it was placed over your knee, so close to megan’s. she felt your hand drop, the thud heard on the hood of the car, and with the weight of her feelings, she unknowingly drew her hand closer to yours.

your hand reached outwards, nervously, you glanced down, watching the way your fingers would inch closer to hers, but you’d pull back, quickly, abruptly, like you’d been struck by lightning.

you swallowed, thinking to yourself. would megan mind if you grabbed her hand? would she pull away, deny you the comfort of her warmth?

it was inevitable, the way you and her found one another even in the dark night.

your fingers reached out, finding hers. silently, you stared ahead, as though the tingles you felt weren’t sending a jolt to your stomach and chest. megan’s fingers intertwined with yours, loosely hanging together, and much like you — even if she didn’t know how you felt — her own body had electricity dancing all over.

neither of you said a word. this quiet, tender moment allowing both of you to relish in the feelings. there was no one around, no one to pretend in front of, no one to fool.

you took this moment for yourselves, selfishly, uncaring, and greedily.

ooohuuhh they didn’t even kiss ??? 🤔 haha… so part 3?

[kamfor334]

manifested my desired appearance!

hi guys! I know I haven’t posted in a while, this is just a little post about my manifestations, I manifested my desired appearance!

to be honest, when I think about this experience one thing is that this reminded me how EZ manifesting really is. When I first started to manifest my desired appearance, I thought it would be harder, and I would have to put in a lot more work. But, now looking back, this helped me realize that manifesting is simple, and instant. We are constantly manifesting naturally, and it isn’t that complicated or hard.

how it happened

It’s kinda funny how, people always say manifestation is instant (cus it is) but you genuinely to remember or realize until you see that you ACTUALLY have your results so quickly, and before you even realize. Tbh, I didn’t even really count or keep track of “how long it took”, since I find that constantly checking for results kinda deters me or messes with my mindset. I realized I had manifested my desired appearance when I was looking in the mirror today, low-key surprised me. My hair is thick, longer, my curls look the exact same as the photos from my vision board. My lashes are thicker, longer, my lips are pinker, plumper, ect, ect. I also noticed my body. I didn’t change my height (cause I didn’t want to) but, I look super cute!

After this, now I wanna manifest clear, soft smooth skin a lot more persistent, because me skin has been getting clearer and softer, but I’m not at my desired goal, however, I have seen a noticeable difference in my skin 🤭

also, people commented on it. I’ve been getting lots of comments on my body by my friends, telling me my body is tea, complementing my waist ect. And another thing I can remember is going to the convenience store with my mom, and this lady complementing my hair, and my mom pointing out my long, soft hair, and literally telling me word for word that I have4b hair 🤭

what I manifested

you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to but, I just wanna talk about what I manifested 🤭

White, straight teeth, pretty smile.

longer, thicker manga like lashes, wide, black beady doe eyes.

plump, pink, soft lips

more prominent dimples

Slimmer, oval face shape.

4b, defined healthy curls hair.

longer hair.

pear shaped body, slim, flat, soft waist, round plump bubble butt, r plump, round thighs and hips.

slim arms, collar bones, back and neck.

how did I did it!

well, for one, I said affirmations when ever I could, and whenever I had doubtful thoughts I would counteract it with a affirmation and try to take a deep breath and remind myself manifesting is easy, simple and instant, and that I literally already have, before I even fully realize.

I created a vision board. with pictures for visualization, written affirmations. I really like this form of manifestation cause you can look at it before bed, read it in your free time, visualize and affirm while you look at it.

looking in mirrors. I know a lot of people say not to look into mirrors when manifesting a physical change, but for me it helps. For some reason, looking in mirrors makes affirming a lot more fun and makes me feel more confident, like while I’m looking in the mirror I’ll say “I’m so pretty. ☺️” “I’m literally so beautiful, it’s so mesmerizing.” “I have such a cute, small waist” and is makes acknowledging my affirmations as truth lot easier, and it makes me feel so confident to admire myself. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to tho, or if it doesn’t work for you.

That’s it! I love youuuuuu

sorry this is long, I was just really excited to share my results. 😭

remember that manifesting is literally so easy and simple, we literally do it all the time without even realizing, and manifesting is instant.

[bullet-prooflove]

For Carmy Berzatto

Injury + Cheerful + Community?

Tagging: @wabi-sabi1090 @kmc1989 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

The Farm - Carmy recalls the day you met.

Good People - Richie and Carmy discuss a potential relationship with you.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Something Important - Carmy knows the two of you have something important together.

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Doing Something - Carmy owns up to something he's been doing without telling you.

When Carmy hears about the accident at the farm, his heart stops. He’s in the middle of dinner service, surveying the plates for Table Seven when Sugar rushes in with that tone in her voice, the same one she had when he told him Mikey died. His world falls apart in that moment and he reverts back to his old patterns.

He doubles down on the work, firing off orders, getting plates out that door, because it’s the only thing that makes sense to him, the only thing that stops the terror from suffocating him.

When Sugar tries to pull him away, to get him to go see you at the hospital he brushes her off. This is where he needs to be right now, making sure everything flows just the way it needs to.

It’s then she gets Richie. Richie who knows just how hard it is to love again after you’ve been torn apart, how frightening it can be, how overwhelming. Carmen tries to block him out, to focus on his tasks but Cuz he’s persistent, he always has been, it’s the reason Carmen both loves and hates him.

It gets into a fight, shouting at first and then physical. Carmen shoving at Richie because he just wants him to fuck off and Richie, grasping Carmen to him, holding him because this violence right now, it comes from fear. The fear of losing the person you love, the fear of being shattered all over again.

“If you don’t to this.” Richie tells him, his grip on the back of Carmen’s neck tightening as the other man tries to fight him. “If you’re not there for her when she needs you, you’re going to destroy that thing that you love and you will hate yourself for it, you will regret it every damn day of your life.”

All of that aggression, it drains from him then and he finds himself clinging to Richie, his fists bunching the fabric of his suit jacket as his body begins to tremble.

“I’m scared.” He whispers unable to force the rest of the words out. “I can’t…”

He can’t lose anyone else. He simply won’t survive it.

“I know.” Richie murmurs. “But she’s scared too and sometimes it’s a little easier when you’re scared together.”

He’s still a wreck when he turns up at the hospital. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket so the nurse he speaks to can’t see them shaking. She’s alarmingly cheerful as she dictates your condition.

A broken arm, a concussion, a couple of fractured ribs.

They’re keeping you in overnight for observation.

When he’s escorted to your room, the relief he feels is palpable because you may be a little battered, a little bruised but you’re still here, still with him and in that moment that’s all that matters.

You’re sleeping when he approaches the bed, your face tilted towards him, your hair falling across your features. He uses his fingertips to tuck an errand strand back behind your ear and you start to stir under his touch.

“Hey.” He says softly, his thumb tracing gently over the apple of your cheek.

“Hey.” You whisper back, your lips brushing over the palm of his hand. “You came.”

“Yea.” He says, his voice breaking as his eyes meet yours. “I’m really fucking glad I did.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks. 

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling. 

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him. 

“I can’t,” you say. 

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.” 

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.” 

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat. 

“James…” 

“Just hit me,” he says. 

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage. 

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to hit you, James.” 

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.” 

“I’d rather not, though.” 

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.” 

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.” 

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.” 

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm. 

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest. 

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!” 

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.” 

“I am not punching you in the face.” 

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say. 

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple. 

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests. 

You relax. 

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.” 

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two. 

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority. 

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.” 

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined. 

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.” 

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint. 

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?” 

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.” 

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?” 

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.” 

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.” 

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift. 

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy. 

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses. 

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?” 

“I need stuff.” 

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.” 

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.” 

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance. 

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does. 

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?” 

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.” 

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.” 

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…” 

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there. 

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them. 

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise. 

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.” 

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.” 

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.” 

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour. 

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?” 

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” 

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.” 

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before. 

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.” 

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues. 

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns. 

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says. 

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.” 

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Maybe next time,” you appease. 

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks. 

You laugh. “She was nice.” 

“Very motherly.” 

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?” 

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.” 

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.” 

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?” 

“No! When?” 

“The third.” 

“What does he like?” 

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.” 

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.” 

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely. 

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction. 

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door. 

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.” 

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.” 

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly. 

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years. 

“How exhausting,” you’d said. 

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.” 

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames. 

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot? 

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork. 

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat. 

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly. 

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?” 

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending. 

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?” 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.” 

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it. 

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously. 

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?” 

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask. 

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.” 

“Sorry.” 

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?” 

“I’ll just be in your way.” 

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.” 

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.” 

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly. 

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”  

“I resent that!” James calls. 

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one. 

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.” 

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.” 

“We’re both fine,” you say. 

“Were you worried about us?” James asks. 

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk. 

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company. 

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real. 

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths. 

“Bit my tongue,” you say. 

“Ouch,” Remus says. 

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually. 

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down. 

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.” 

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased. 

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.” 

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.” 

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.” 

“And the rest,” James snorts. 

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself. 

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask. 

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.” 

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?” 

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask. 

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country. 

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood. 

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.” 

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.” 

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask. 

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.” 

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.” 

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.” 

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead. 

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Of course.” 

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise. 

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.” 

He’s angry. 

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.” 

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones. 

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner. 

[dashielldeveron]

cunning | shinsou x reader

Shinsou x Fem!Reader. BNHA spoilers for chapter 425. Note: written in a fervent haze backstage at a show I’m working and posted from mobile, so it’s much more casual than my normal stuff. ~1k words

You dragged Shinsou by his tie down the corridor towards the entrance to the stairs, and the moment you rounded the corner, you slid your hand up to grip the tie’s knot to yank his mouth down to yours. Shinsou flailed for a split second, as he always did when you initiated, as if he’s perpetually shocked that you would be so desperate for him, but he recovered, pursing his lips to return the kiss, casual, almost lazy about it—and he chuckled under his breath.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” You said with a huff, bitter you had to tear your mouth from his to speak, so you settled for pressing kiss after kiss along his jawline. “Couldn’t tell your girlfriend that you were finally transferring into the hero course—“

“It’d be suspicious if you’d been the only one without a reaction to Aoyama’s leaving, now, wouldn’t it?” Shinsou placed his hands, featherlight, on your hips and slid them up to your waist, where he tapped his fingers in a ripple. A vein in his neck visibly throbbed when you gave his tie another pull, and with a sly grin, he tilted his neck to expose more of it.

“Oh, you slut.” But you conceded, finishing your path to just before his ear and then trailed down his neck. “God, fuck,” you said, releasing his tie to wrap your arms around him, reaching up to grip the hair at the base of his neck, “I can’t—can’t believe after all of this, you wouldn’t share any shred of good news; God knows we need some after all of this—“

“I know, baby.” Shinsou pressed his lips to your forehead and nuzzled into your hair, guiding you back against the wall. “Am I not allowed a surprise every once in a while?”

“Shut—shut up,” you said, biting your lip, “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, your cunning nature wouldn’t be endearing. You’re a frustrating little sneak, y’know?”

“Yes, I like to think so,” said Shinsou, grinning toothily in the moment before he lifted your chin with a tap of his finger to kiss you again. This time, he returned your fervour, connecting his lips to yours, varying pressure as he pleased, letting your tongue flick at his coconut-pear chapsticked lips before finally opening his mouth. His tongue pressed against your gums in that slow, teasing way he liked, and he tilted his head to the side to reach the roof of your mouth.

When he suddenly broke from you, you let out an honestly embarrassing whine, and he rubbed his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. “How can I stop teasing you when I get looks like this afterwards? You’re adorable.” Shinsou’s eyes, full of mischief, flicked up to catch yours. “Want me to make it up to you?”

He always thinks he can talk his way out of trouble with you, and to be fair, he usually could. You couldn’t stay mad at this man. “Sure. Surprise me.”

“With pleasure,” said Shinsou, sliding his hand to cup your cheek, and when a crooked grin stretched across his face, the haze of his quirk floated through your mind.

Feeling light.

Distant.

But very, very happy. And teeming with affection.

For you, Shinsou’s quirk always felt like he was cradling you tightly, like his love could touch you. Like you were safe. Still cogent, still in the moment, but acutely aware you’d do what he’d tell you. Others probably felt scared under Shinsou’s quirk because he was scared of them.

Shinsou traced a circle over the edge of your cheekbone. “You with me, baby?” When you nodded, Shinsou kissed you again, slow to pull away, half-lidded eyes unbearably fond. “Then get close to orgasm. But don’t you dare come.”

You inhaled sharply. “Oh, you rat bast—“

And the hazy buzz of a building orgasm flooded you all at once. It’s shocking, really, an electric sort of whizz-bang, when it comes on so quickly—and you gasped, impulsively hunching over and knocking clumsily against Shinsou’s cheek, then clutching at his blazer lapels to hide in his chest. Warmth and static and fog and gosh, you were tripping over your own feet, and you’d thought Shinsou was trying to steady you when he gripped your hip, but no, his hand kept going to the swell of your ass and down to the underside of your thigh to yank it upwards, hooking it over his own hip. Staring you down while you struggled to even keep your eyes open, Shinsou rolled his hips into yours, and you just about cracked in half.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle the honest-to-God sob from how good it felt, how intense the blur and haze was combined with the distant-floatiness of his quirk, and Shinsou laughed to himself again before he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in, feeling you tremble while he ground into you, taking your other hand in his to lace your fingers together. Fuck, you were close; you were so damn close, but it’s like he’d set a lock on you, like you’d keep rolling that boulder up that hill, like—

“Ahem.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Aizawa-sensei clearing his throat, but Shinsou didn’t rush as he dropped his brainwashing and surfaced from your neck, blinking blearily at your—your shared homeroom teacher, with crossed arms and Bakugou and Todoroki in tow, the former tactfully (embarrassedly?) looking away and the latter unable to tear his gaze away from you.

“Shinsou,” said Aizawa-sensei, as Shinsou dropped your thigh and disentangled himself from you, with heat burning your face to oblivion but Shinsou appearing annoyingly calm, “I was going to discuss your move into the Class A dormitory, but considering whom I had next door—“ Aizawa’s eyes slid over to you. “—I may have to do more planning.”