#i put little smiley face stickers on the ears :)

[walterdecourceys]

i'm so stupid happy about these headphones i could cry. they're also wireless and while i've been kind of hesitant about wireless things in the past it does make maneuvering around with them sooo much easier (i just cleaned my room with them on) AND it did come with a cord you can use to attach them to a headphone jack. so i don't have to be reliant on bluetooth

[choccyhearts]

you decide to help eddie stay focused on his homework and as motivation you buy cheesy inspirational stickers...

you buy a few different packs; colorful smiley faces, gold stars, various foods with matching puns, and of course some with silly little sayings like "good job"

each time eddie completes a math problem or writes paragraph for his essay you give him a sticker to put anywhere he'd like

he scoffs at you when you explain your reward system but follows up by saying, "well duh i want the stupid stickers", after you tell him to just forget about the idea

he tries to get more creative with the places he sticks his rewards. a few on his desk, some on his notebook, a couple on the wall

after completing an entire assignment, you cheer and give him a big hug before placing a sticker on his cheek. it's one that says, "you rock!", and you were waiting for the right moment to give it to him

he looks in the mirror and rolls his eyes playfully, grinning from ear to ear. he takes one of the sticker packs and puts one of your cheek. it's a gold star that reads, "you're a rockstar!"

you smirk and stick a bright green smiley face on his nose and soon you break out into a sticker fight

an hour later, there's stickers everywhere -- in your hair, on your clothes, on the floor -- and eddie still only has one assignment finished

wayne comes home from the store, walking back towards eddie's room to check on him

he pokes his head in and you both look at him caught off guard -- eddie's on the floor holding your wrist as you try to stick more stickers ln him

wayne just shakes his head and leaves, saying, "i'on even wanna know"

(is this cringe? i can't tell...)

[vampireshmu]

Fandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance Rating: Gen Relationships: Gerard Way/Mikey Way, (can be read as gen though) Wordcount: 600 Tags: Ghosts, Sibling Incest, (if you want it to be), just lighthearted idk A/N: Dunno it's just a lighthearted little thing! For the second Waycest Wednesday's prompt of "Ghosts". If I had a nickel every time that I wrote Ghost!Mikey in a bathroom-

Gerard scrubbed at their hair, feeling the stress of their day melting off of them and washing down the drain. After a few more minutes, he turned off the water and reached for his towel. They dried themself off and stepped out of the shower.

Glancing briefly at the fogged up mirror, Gerard noticed something. There was a message written on the mirror, just large enough to be noticeable. They squinted to try to read it, but the letters were still blurry.

He rubbed his eyes and took in the words scrawled in… translucent goop, apparently.

“PLS STOP YR FRIENDS FROM DOG EARING MY BOOKS. I DON’T CARE IF I’M DEAD.”

“Mikey,” Gerard said, “Please stop writing on the mirror. Do you realize how hard it is to get ectoplasm off of it? It’s like those stickers from stores that you can’t ever get all the way off. Please just like- write a note or something? Not my fancy alcohol markers though.”

Gerard waited an awkward moment, but there was no response. He rolled his eyes, poking at the sticky substance. After a moment, Gerard heard a faint rustling sound behind them. They turned around quickly, but there was no one there. Obviously.

However, they could feel a strange presence in the room.

"Mikey?" Gerard called out tentatively.

There was no response, but Gerard could sense that his brother’s ghostly presence was still there. A soft whispering sound seemed to surround them. They strained to listen, but the words were too faint to make out.

Getting frustrated, Gerard said, "Mikey, I can't hear you. You need to speak up if you want to actually talk to me."

Abruptly, the temperature in the room dropped and a gust of wind blew through the bathroom. The curtains swayed and Gerard shivered, feeling a chill run down their spine, “Wow, okay. Um, language! But yeah sure, I’ll tell Frank not to. Capeesh?”

There was no response, once again, but the room warmed up so he figured that Mikey had dissipated. They sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Dealing with Mikey’s antics was kinda draining, but he supposed it was better than him being gone forever. They were too dependent on each other for that to even be a possibility. 

Gerard quickly got dressed and headed out of the bathroom, feeling a little uneasy but trying not to let it show. As he passed by the bookshelf in the living room (also known as The Depression Nest), he noticed that one of Mikey’s books was lying discarded on the couch. A page was bent and they sighed as they folded it back, placing it back on the shelf with the rest of the Palahniuk books Mikey had collected over the years.

Gerard reasoned that they were lucky to have their brother still with them in some way. He really couldn't imagine life without him, and he was grateful for every moment they got to spend together. Even if it was… unconventional (at best).

Gerard spun suddenly at the sound of the book they had just put on the shelf thudding to the floor.

“Mikey-”

A smiley face in iridescent slime showed up on the bookshelf, just slowly enough to be mildly infuriating.

“Oh you rascal. Whatever. I’ll leave it.”

Quickly drawn below the smiley face was a small heart, the way that Mikey typed them out on forums, even with the existence of emojis. Less than symbol followed by a three. It was cute. Gerard couldn't help the small smile on their face. They shook their head and settled into the couch.

[cipheramnesia]

The great big room with the mirror was mostly where Dr. Stevenson used to take her to play. Her earliest whole memories were guessing games, or magic tricks. Athena would see a picture of a red ball and Dr. Stevenson would ask, "Now can you guess where it is in the room?" She wasn't allowed to look, just guess, and she always did a "great job."

Her little room and small desk had lots and lots of foil stars and smiley face stickers on the walls and edge of the bed and desk. When she was a little older she asked if she could go outside or go swimming but Dr. Stevenson just told her shush. "Now Athena, imagine how dark it is inside this box I'm holding. Then, imagine it is light, just a little bit light, imagine if the smallest ray of sunshine got inside and let you see." And then Athena would say, "I don't even know what sunshine looks like," and Dr. Stevenson slammed the gray plastic box on the faux wood table and "Just see the light in the box, you half-wit!" Which always made Athena cry, but when it got all blurry with tears and her sobs made her throat and shoulders jerk, she felt like she could imagine the light, and (haltingly) she would tell the doctor about the hummingbird shaped pendant in the box and then Dr. Stevenson would smile a tight little smile and leave with a "good job." Sometimes Athena overheard her sharp voice cut into an orderly "clean her up." She didn't get stars anymore, because Dr. Stevenson said she was too old for them, but sometimes she got toys and clothes.

Those times were mostly good for Athena as she got better and better at the games. She could see light anywhere she wanted, see anything Dr. Stevenson showed her. She felt as if she knew what Dr. Stevenson wanted before hand, and sometimes she could just bring the desires from light. She had much more fun in her teen years as the light learned to dance at her fingertips. By the fourth new room she had stopped keeping anything more personal than her clothes, and Dr. Stevenson seemed so happy.

"It is just as I said," she said to her colleagues in ear shot. "Discipline and strength, rigid order and routine. Give me a dozen like her and I will put the world in order!"

Someone muttered "Too bad there's only two of them."

Athena waited every patient day for a chance to see the water and go swimming, but it never seemed to arrive.

Dr. Stevenson would have had to take Athena when she was a very young child. Maybe four years old, give or take. It could happen so many ways but it would have been so very easy for her to put just a little pressure on one or two people to have CPS take custody of the girl. This is all just a dream, and Athena's whole life after that is one neutral colored room after another with a slightly different ergonomic office chair every few years, and her only solid memory to hold on to is a reflection of light off water. Sand and water, surrounded by big trees with branches all bent heavy and green. A half open, half broken rusty gate clinging onto a couple concrete pillars long bereft of their accompanying wall. Athena would hold onto that for dear life, treasure any little sliver of color from a light blue hoodie to a cheap pair of headband bunny ears to blue and yellow rain-boots. They would have accumulated over the years of the taped on monitors, blood draws, urine samples, hair clippings, annual spinal tap.

Sometimes she'd go days without food, or her room temperature would swing from frigid to boiling, then the big orderly and the phlebotomist with Dr. Stevenson's sharp voice over them all would come in. "Be careful," she'd snap out, slapping off hands that gripped too tight, never once spoken out of love or even empathy. "Don't damage her, we don't know if we'll ever find another one." The concern only spoke of a rare and treasured object, perhaps a Cartier wind up music box. The others calmed her like an animal, "easy girl, just a moment and it's over." Sometimes when there was a new phlebotomist, Athena got a small piece of candy. She never had the same one more than a few months. She'd try to savor the hard lollipop or drop of chocolate and ignore the sound of Dr. Stevenson through the hollow doors, "This subject is on a specialized diet to ensure consistency of results, you are not to bring any such personal items-" and it went on.

Learning math and reading and writing after a fashion, information provided by Dr. Stevenson with grudging irritation, but once in awhile short and tantalizing sidepaths of the personal. "These sides are you, much like you and the light, you control both sides with the shared information. Oh, nevermind. Figure it out yourself." Athena would never know what kind of a monstrosity Dr. Stevenson was building from her blood and their studies, only the day that something went terribly wrong, and Dr. Stevenson didn't come to see her anymore. The time she'd showed the room the light and it hurt Dr. Stevenson, she still came back a few days later, but this time she left and Dr. White started taking care of her. He was much nicer, but wouldn't let her have her room in the dark, and did not think all the work Dr. Stevenson had been doing was very interesting. Sometimes he would talk about Dr. Stevenson's huge promotion with a sure bitterness. He showed up with a younger girl he called Alice.

[jujutsukatsuki]

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, throatfucking, spitting, gagging, messy makeup, soft kiri <3

Smut will be under the cut!

Sometimes things don’t work out, plans fall through, people flake, or your boyfriend since freshman year of high school decides to dump you via text when you were waiting for him at the coffee shop you always met at when you and him got off work.

So here you are, sitting in this little café, crying into your ceramic cup full of espresso that has foam art of a heart. You sniffle as you sit in the booth. It didn’t help that today was already awful. You flunked a test you stayed up all night studying for cause life would be too easy to let you have one thing go right today. Your AP literacy teacher seemed to have a burning hatred for you and you had cracked your phone screen.

If you weren’t spending thousands on college and already in your last year, you might have quit today.

Your only saving grace? The cute barista who you’d come to know as Eijiro Kirishima. He had covered your drink when you realized that your wallet was at home sitting on your coffee table.

You barely touched the cup of coffee he had spent time making just for you, even adding the cute heart on top. Instead you chose to keep your head in your hands as you stared at the table blankly, tears falling from your face into the coffee, ruining the art.

Kirishima bussed a few tables before he got to you.

“Y/n?” He asked softly as he put a hand on your shoulder. You sniffled and looked up at him, a white towel was throwing over the tight black shirt he wore. A black apron covered the front of his body. You took notice of a couple pins he had on the front. A pin from a hero movie, crimson riot or something, you couldn’t remember the actual name. A pin that read He/Him, his name tag that had a pink smiley face sticker along with his title of Assistant Manager for X amount of years on it and a pin that read ‘Ask me about my favorite coffee!’

“Y/n?” He asked again as he knelt down a bit to be eye level with you.

“Sorry, yeah, what’s up Kirishima?” You wiped the black stained tears from your cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Your bottom lip quivered, fresh tears pricked your eyes, face was hot with embarrassment and sadness.

“M-my boyfriend broke up with me over text.” You covered your mouth with your hand and let out a muffled sob. Kiri’s eyes held an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. Pity? Genuine concern? You weren’t sure.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, that’s so unmanly of him.” He wrapped you in a tight bear hug. You wrapped your arms around him tight and cried into his chest.

Eijiro ended up taking his break so he could comfort you while his co-worker, Shoto, covered. He listened to you vent about your problems and frustrations, you actually drank the new coffee that Kiri brought over for you this time, he didn’t want you to drink a coffee that was probably 85% your tears at that point.

He sat next to you and held your hand as you cried into his shoulder.

“I mean, nearly eight years.” You cried. “I thought him and I were gonna get married.” Kirishima rubbed your back slowly as he listened, he didn’t talk, just listened and god it felt nice.

“To tell you the truth, I never liked him much.” Eijiro said once you had calmed down, tears slowly falling less and less.

“Why?” You sniffled and looked up at him.

“He was super bossy and didn’t tip well.” Kiri joked to try and cheer you up. You let out a small laugh.

“He was like that wasn’t he?” You brushed some hair behind your ear and wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I don’t want to tell you that everything is going to be okay because I don’t know if it will. But what I can tell you is that you’re such a good, kind, genuine person and anyone is lucky to have you. You’re truly a gift Y/n. And you’re really pretty.” He smiled

Your face felt warm as he said that. “Thanks Kiri. And thank you for listening, I really needed that today.”

“Anytime.” He smiled at you with a big toothy grin.

He got back to work after that, only after he gave you his number if you needed anything of course and you went home to kick your boyfriend out of the apartment.

Only you came home to him having sex with your best friend in the bed the two of you shared. Honestly, you didn’t even care at that point. You calmly gathered all your things, told him to have a nice life and that you were telling the landlord about him smoking weed in the apartment all the time.

With no where to go and a car full of stuff, your brain went on auto pilot. You ended up in front of the coffee shop. It was now pouring rain outside, thunder and lightening were brewing in the sky.

Your eyes held a blank gaze as you stared straight ahead. A soft knock came from your passenger window, it made you jump as you unlocked the door after seeing a familiar red head.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Kiri asked as he climbed into the passenger seat, he was no longer wearing his apron and the tight black shirt he wore clung even tighter to his body thanks to the rain. His normal spikes of hair were now hanging down in his face.

You sat and told Kiri about what happened once you had got home. His jaw dropped as he heard about what you walked into you. He invited you to stay with him for the night.

Little did you know that one night was gonna change everything.

That was all a year ago. You’ve been living in Kirishima’s guest room ever since.

Currently you were making dinner, Kirishima was gonna be home soon from work and you decided to make his favorite meal that you knew how to cook. Homemade chicken Alfredo.

The front door’s lock jiggled as he unlocked the door and walked in.

“Y/n, I’m home.” He hummed as he dropped his work backpack next to the house and took his shoes off.

“In the kitchen Eiji!” You called out as you were mixing the noodles and sauce.

“Hey.” He smiled as he kissed the back of your head before he grabbed a soda from the fridge.

“Did you have a good day at work?” You asked as you put the noodles to simmer on a low heat.

“It was alright, had a few Karens. What about your day?”

You smiled softly as you looked at him. A black bandana was holding his hair back from his face, he had a smile that reached his eyes as he inquired about your day.

Suddenly it dawned on you how domestic you and him were. How he’d come home and kiss your head, how you’d snuggle into his side as you watch a tv show together, how he’d carry you to your bed and kiss your forehead as he tucked you in. How he’d come up behind you when you were with his friends and wrap his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder.

You were in love with your roommate and best friend.

As you two sat in the couch eating dinner, your legs were over his lap, head resting against his thick biceps. Your thoughts were full of details about Kirishima that you could get rid of. The small scar above his eye he got from jumping through a window when he was a kid, the tattoos that decorated his inner arms, a few comic book heroes and anime characters he loved, the way he instantly relaxed under your touch. You noticed how much Kiri loved touching you. He was always the first one to hold you close to him or kiss your head.

You kept staring at him from the corner of your eye, enough that he caught your gaze.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He asked as he reached out and gently wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of your lips with his thumb. Your face was suddenly very hot as you slowly nodded, he wiped his thumb on a napkin.

“You seem quieter tonight are you sure you’re alright?”

“Kiri, do you…” You stopped to think about your phrasing before you decided to come out and say it.

“Do you like me?”

He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Yeah of course, you’re like my best friend.” He smiled a bit

“No I mean like… romantically.”

Kiri’s cheeks went bright red as he stuttered out a answered.

“Is- uh.. Is it okay if I say yes?” He nervously cleared his throat as he chewed on his bottom lip, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped.

“Yeah of course! I just, I realized that.. maybe I’ve always known and I was just scared but I don’t want to ruin anything and you’re just so sweet and I’m worried that I’m not good enough for you but I like you like that an-“

He cupped your cheek with his huge hand and kissed you. It was such a polite way to shut you up. You kissed back, hands finding the shirt he wore and clutching it in your hands. His lips were soft against yours, his actions were gentle as his other hand held the back of your neck.

The kiss was broken when you both needed air. Lips were swollen and red, faces were warm and the only noise was that of soft panting.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while.” He smiled as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“How long?” You questioned

“Since the very first day you walked into the coffee shop and ordered a hot chocolate and a croissant.“ Your face seemed to get even warmer.

“You remembered what I ordered?”

Kirishima chuckled as he nodded.

“Yeah, you asked for four pumps of extra chocolate in the drink because sometimes it wasn’t a strong enough taste for you. Plus you gave me like a 15 dollar tip.”

You laughed and Kirishima fell deeper in love with you at the sound you made. His smile grew as he watched you.

That night you laid in your bed, tossing and turning as you thought of the revelations from tonight. You loved him and he loved you. Now what the fuck do you do?

You shoved the blankets off you and got up, slipping on the bunny slippers that Kiri got for you last Christmas. You opened your door only to come face to face with him. His red hair was down in his face as he looked like he hadn’t slept yet.

“What are we?” The two of you said in sync. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What do you want?” Kiri asked as he placed a hand on your upper arm before it slid down to grab your hand.

“You.” You whispered softly as you gently squeezed his hand.

“I want you too.” He smiled tiredly

“So.. does that mean we’re dating?” You asked for confirmation.

“I guess it does.” He kissed your forehead and squeezed your hand.

“Let me take you on a date tomorrow- er, later tonight?” He chuckled

“Oh yeah? Where are we gonna go?”

“Not sure yet but I’ll pick you up at seven?” He grinned

“I’ll make sure I’m ready by then.” You moved to wrap your arms around his neck.

“If I’m a few minutes late it’s cause my super cute roommate takes forever to get ready.” He teased

“I do not!” You laugh, Kiri reached down and picked you up by your thighs. You gasped, your slippers falling off in the process

“Eiji!”

“What?” He hummed as he stole you away to his room.

“I can walk you know.” You yawn softly, sleep already starting to pull you under.

“I know.” He yawned after you did. He laid down in his bed and laid you next to him. You could see in Kiri’s eyes that he was seconds from sleep. By the time you pulled the blanket over you two, he was out. You snuggled into his chest, it was a perfect fit like you two were made for each other.

One of his hands rested on your thigh, the warm feeling made butterflies in your stomach as sleep became an anchor chained to your ankle yanking you down through the waves of tranquility.

It was your first big date with Eijiro, you put on a nice black dress that hugged your figure in a way that made you feel confident with a deep v neck line that showed off your cleavage and a pair of red heels. Thankfully the dress stopped about mid knee level so it showed off the heels.

You weren’t sure where you and him were going, only that he told you to dress fancy. He looked very handsome in a black suit with a red tie. He grinned like a mad man when he saw you. His large hands found your waist as you snaked your arms around his neck, fingers grazing the hair of his undercut.

“Baby, you look-” He cuts himself off as he moves you to do a little twirl for him. Kiri’s eyes rake over your figure before his eyes meet yours as you twirl back to face him. The smile on his face reaches his eyes, he's looking at you like you’re the love of his life, like you’re a gift to this world.

To him, you are all of those.

Dinner goes well, Eijiro tells you stories that have happened at work recently, you tell him about what you’re learning at college. The entire time he looks at you as if you put the stars in the sky.

He’s so in love with you, it hurts.

🛑 Smut under cut 🛑

After dinner was the fun part. It wasn’t the first time you two did it. But this would be the first time that the two of you were going to have needy, messy sex. Your hands were all over each other, grasping at clothing and skin until your clothes were in balls on the floor.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty on your knees.” Kiri panted softly as he looked at you. His lips were swollen with light stains of the lipstick you had worn, his pupils were huge, lust blown. His hand cups your cheek as he stands in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock. The tip is red and leaky with dribbles of pre cum.

“Thank you daddy.” You smile and stick out your tongue, his cock is huge. Youre not sure how youre gonna fit the monster in your mouth, the only hope you had was how well he fit in your cunt. Eijiro grins as he smacks the tip of his cock against your tongue.

“Such a messy girl.” He whispers as he licks his lips in anticipation. You slowly take every inch of his cock down your throat, you get about half way before your mouth feels extremely full.

Eijiro lets out a soft groan as his hands tangle in your hair. He bucks his hips into your mouth. Needy. Wanting. He’s doing everything he can to chase his high. You pull back for a moment to talk to him, saliva drips down your chin.

“You can fuck my throat Daddy.”

His brain malfunctions over your words, with one hand he puts his cock back into your mouth as the other has your hair gripped tightly. You let your jaw remain slack as he started to thrust into your mouth.

The feel of your throat gripping his cock is the most euphoric. Drool drips down your chin to between your breasts. The feeling of your gagging satisfies him, the way you clench around his cock. Between your legs is slick, your thighs stick together as you rub them together for friction. You let out a whine as you make eye contact with him, he thrusts harder down your throat, causing you to gag again. This time he holds your head down, nose buried in his neatly trimmed happy trail.

The gagging is what’s pushing him over the edge, he reaches down and wraps his hand around your throat. He can feel himself buried inside. Your head feels light, but it feels too good to tap him on the thigh and make him stop. Without warning, his cum floods down your throat, making you instantly start swallowing.

His breathing is harsh as he pulls out, muscles in his thighs are lightly jerking and a few spurts of cum find their way on your lips and chest.

“Fuck.” He curses as he looks at you, makeup smeared around your face, lips red and puffy, cum dripping down your skin. He can’t help but add to the mix with his spit before he smears the mixture all over your cheeks and mouth.

“So fucking pretty. Gonna make such a mess of you.” He smirks as he lifts you up and lays you on the bed. You have a feeling that the neighbors are gonna have a noise complaint to give your landlord, but in that moment, you couldn’t give a fuck. You were about to be obliterated by your boyfriend's huge cock, and that’s all that mattered to you.

[heckinconfusedparade]

Wachowski Bros Get Flu Shots:

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Tom and Maddie don’t know what to do. They’ve set the appointment for the boys to get their flu shots, and have yet to tell them.

The boys in question are happily playing with LEGOS without a care in the world.

Tom decides to just rip off the bandage. He sits next to the little group “hey boys! Whatcha building?”

Sonic looks up at him “Barbies Dream House.”

Knuckles nods “I wonder what it is like to have an expansive closet.”

Tails sits up from what he was working on “the elevator is complete!” The boys share a high five all around.

Tom decides… bandage ripping can come later.

Later comes when they’re getting in the car to go. “Where are we going?” Tails asks, kicking his little legs in his seat.

“A quick trip to the doctors!” Maddie responds, resulting in groans from all 3 of the boys. Maddie turns around in her seat as the car begins to move “trust me, you boys need this.”

The brothers look at each other in fear. What is gonna happen to them?

Tom looks at them in the mirror and smiles “flu shots are veeery important.”

The boys say in unison “SHOTS???”

Tom and Maddie cheer, ignoring the horror in their sons faces. Those boys heard shots and immediately thought they were gonna die.

Once they get to the doctors, they’re put in a line. Maddie will be with the boys getting their shots, and Tom is chaos control staying outside the door and making sure the other two don’t run off.

Knuckles is first. Turns out he’s deathly afraid of needles. He’s not whining or crying though, but he is trying to leave. When he’s in the chair, he looks mortified. Maddie tries to distract him by talking to him, but it doesn’t work, because the needle snaps the moment it touches his arm. Knuckles growls and goes behind Maddie, holding his arm. “Mother they tried to stab me. Tell them to stop this at once.” Knuckles complains. Maddie hugs him “baby, we’re just trying to keep you safe. This shot will protect you from getting super sick.. like internal armour.” “Internal armour..?” “Yes, baby.” Knuckles slowly returns to his chair. This time the nurse talks him through everything she’s doing.. unfortunately when he sees the needle he makes a weird sound and passes out. When he’s coming to, he’s still in his chair, and he has a piece of tape holding a cotton ball to his arm. Bro looks betrayed. He doesn’t realize that at some point he woke up and told them to just get it done before promptly passing out again. He’s taken to his brothers and dad to relax for a bit.

Then it’s Sonics turn. They had to drag him in there. All exits had to be blocked due to him trying to escape. Sonics pulling all the stops, yelling, kicking, hissing, the works. Nothing works out for him as he’s put in the chair. The nurse starts preparing the needle. Maddie crouches down in front of Sonic and holds his hand “it’s going to be ok, Sonic. Moms here. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” “Promise?” “Promise.” Maddie scratches behind his ear, making him relax. Next thing he knows, the nurse announces she’s done, and she pops the used needle into the biohazard bin. “Wait- that’s it?” Sonic is shocked. “Yep!” The nurse says. “Man. I freaked out for nothin!” Sonic laughs off his embarrassment.

Tails is next. Unlike his brothers, he has gotten shots before. It doesn’t mean that he likes them, though. He’s a little small for the chair so he sits in Maddie’s lap. He doesn’t dare look at the needle. He closes his eyes and holds his breath, whimpering when he feels the pinch. Maddie rubs his hand to keep him calm. Then it’s done, and his bandage gets a smiley face! “Well done! You were so brave, Miles!” The nurse says digging through a drawer. “I-I was?” Tails asks “yea! You did so good. In fact, so good that you get to have a sticker.” The nurse presents to him a sticker sheet. He picks a jet sticker. Maddie squeezes him, kissing he lil head “I’m so proud of you, Tails.” “Thank you!”

Tails trots back out to find his brothers and father and show them his sticker. They crowd around him, giving him high fives and praises. Sonic and Knuckles totally aren’t jealous that they don’t have stickers. Totally.

[entities-of-posts]

*there is a closed cardboard box in front of you, a little over a cubic foot big, addressed to you in glittery rainbow ink, with a smiley face next to the word "Archivist"*

*it does not say who sent it*

*in place of stamps are a few Trolls stickers, a sparkly rainbow sticker, a sparkly colorful heart sticker, and a few sparkly star stickers*

*should you pick it up and shake it, it will be light and you'll feel things bouncing around in it but never hitting the sides, bottom, or top hard, and if you put an ear to it you'll hear faint glitch noises, childlike giggling, and cartoony "boing" and "sproing"ing sounds*

*Open?*

Why, I could certainly never guess who sent this! :)

Let’s see what’s inside…

[hjremi]

remi blinks. blinks again.

"my... hearing aids?" confusion colours his voice. maybe matteo thought they were airpods, or something? surely he's not so out of touch with the common people that he's never heard - ha! - of a deaf person before. "see?"

pulling it out makes the world go quiet on that side, the din of the party all lopsided as he can now only hear it on his right. he tips his head to that side unconsciously, as if tucking his ear towards his shoulder will abate the tinnitius, but he holds the device in the palm of his hand for matteo to see even still. he'd stuck a little smiley face sticker on this one, to match the stick-and-poke on his hand and the frowny face sticker on the other. watching matteo warily, remi tries not to flinch about it, resisting the urge to close his fist protectively - these things were expensive, and if matteo like, chucks it into the ocean or something, it's gonna take a bit for him to get a replacement, and he'll be pissed the whole time.

please don't make it weird, please don't make it weird, please don't make it weird. he can't stand it whenever people get that look on their face, that poor little remington look. "they make waterproof ones, but i can't swim anyway, so there's no point, y'know? what am i gonna do, hear myself take a shower?"

a little uncomfortable about the situation - he wasn't lying when he said matteo gives him both the heebies and the jeebies - remi puts the hearing aid back in. just in time, too, as someone approaches them, startling him, as he hadn't heard them coming.

....squirtle? like.... the pokemon?

"uh... yeah, alright." gingerly, remi brings up a hand to pat the turtle. he's never been this close to a turtle before, which is probably for the best, since it's... kinda freaky, honestly. bigger than he expected. "hiya, squirtle. you know i almost got a tattoo of you? i tried to talk them into it, but nooooo. squirtle squad wasn't good enough for them. had to get a dandelion instead." he seems to realise that matteo is still there, then, clearing his throat awkwardly and letting his hands drop. "sorry."

Matteo stared quizzically at the things in Remi's ears. He wasn't sure what they did (if they weren't waterproof, he supposed it made sense he hadn't seen much of them before). "What are those exactly?" he couldn't resist asking. Maybe the Little Mermaid did have a point, being all that curious.

Jongsu would probably be upset if his little friend drowned, but Matteo could still stick him in a very large bubble. Just for a little bit. They shook their head. No, not today. They were supposed to be the noble monarch, especially with the rumors about what they had done to their family. No one needed to know that the transfer of power had been less than peaceful.

His champagne flute was slowly replaced. Matteo was about to say something snarky, but his eyes lit up as someone brought Squirtle to him. They absently began to feed the little guy kelp. "Sorry, the little guy starts to miss me a bit." He internally debated for a bit, but decided to be benevolent. "You can pet him if you'd like. Squirtle doesn't bite. Much."

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Hooked

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again. This time spending more time together and getting to know each other. 

warnings/ disclaimers: Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth. 

Harry was out searching for a book. He had left Loralie with his mother for the day since he had some errands to run and it would be a busy day. He had finished all of his books and he was on the search for another, maybe even some extra ones for his classroom. He had stopped by his favorite coffee shop and ordered his favorite black coffee to start his day of errands, then he went to the market to get everything for dinner tonight- he thought he might as well get it out of the way since he hates grocery shopping.

Now he’s on the way to a bookstore, he didn’t want to order it on Amazon or just go to a big chain store so he did a quick google search and found a small book store a block down the road from the coffee shop he had gone to. He wanted to find the book burning in water, drowning in flame- his sister had recommended it to him and now he was itching to read it.

He made his way to the bookstore, it looked like a homey place just from the outside of the store. It was a rust colored brick with two sconces on either side of the top of the book shop, a rather tall building- possibly a flat at the top. Harry looks at the cacti peeking through the windows, little flower stickers to decorate.

Harry walks into the book shop, opening the door making the golden bell at the top of the door frame sound off. As soon as Harry steps in he notes the warm scent, it smells like the owner had been baking cookies. “Hello!” He hears a cheerful voice sing while he steps toward the poetry aisle in search of the book. “Is there anything I could help you with today?” He hears the voice again making him turn his head. To his surprise it’s Y/n, he’s been thinking about her. “Oh, hi.” He says bashfully, smiling and stepping over to the cashier counter she was behind.

Y/n smiles, continuing to add price tags on the back of her new shipment of books. She had started her little business officially a bit after she had gotten pregnant with Milo. Milo’s dad had left her after she broke the news to him, they were in their early twenty’s (Y/n being twenty one and him being twenty two) so it was understandable that he didn’t want children yet but the way he dealt with the situation was just dramatic and too much on Y/n. So she put everything into her little book shop, she took out a loan and bought this place, starting planning and putting her all into it, it wasn’t easy but it was worth it.

“Hi Harry.” She says, adding a book to the stack. Harry blushes at her tone again, she’s hard to read. “Um… do you happen to have burning in water, drowning in flame?” He asks, whirling around her display of different styles and colors of bookmarks. He is a twenty six year old man, why is acting like one of his students who thinks he’s handsome? Y/n laughs, nodding while she pulls her mug up to her lips- Harry thinks it’s hot chocolate (and he’s right). “It’s in poetry, first aisle, third shelf, second row.” She says, impressing Harry in how she has memorized every single spot of her book store.

Harry gives her a tight nod, walking over to the poetry section and looking for the book. “Is this your place?” Harry asks, making conversation while the rest of the store is dead silent.

“Yeah, me and Milo live in the flat upstairs.” Y/n admits. Harry’s ears perk up, she didn’t say anything about a partner. He walks back to the counter placing his book down, not handing it over to her yet. “When did you open this place?” He questions, looking around the shop. He sees some crystals, some candles- that both look up for sale and also her personal ones. It’s cute.

“After I got pregnant with Milo. Right after Xavier left me.” She says, leaving Harry wondering. “Xavier is…?” Y/n sighs, rolling her eyes a bit. It’s only their second time meeting and she’s already giving him her sob story. “He’s what would be Milo's father.” She says, picking at her bare nails. She doesn’t consider Xavier Milo's father, he’s never been there for him so he’s not a father. Harry’s lips form a tight line, “um, Loralies mum died… so… we’ve all got baggage.” He laughs, trying to cut the tension.

Loralies mum had died, she died during childbirth. She already had a particularly painful and rough pregnancy with Lora and that was just extremely unexpected, Harry just thanks his stars everyday that his little one is safe with him. “That’s awful, Harry. I‘m sorry.” Harry smiles at her, “it’s okay. I’ve got my Lora so I’m okay.” Y/n nods, smiling and grabbing the book from between his fingers. “She’s a sweet girl.” She compliments.

Harry nods, feeling a little cocky over how well he has raised his daughter. “Is this all for you?” She asks, pulling out a small brown bag with the logo and name on it- they are cute. “Yes please.” Harry politely says, making her laugh under her breath. “If this is your first time here? You get a free bookmark with every book you purchase if it is.” She says, nodding over to the bookmarks. Harry nods, looking through the bookmarks and picking a random Fleetwood Mac one- cute, he thinks. Y/n adds the bookmark to the bag, setting it infront of him. “13.22” she says, Harry fishing his wallet out.

“Are you doing a lot today?” He asks, motioning down to all the books stacked around her while he hands her a ten and four singles. She shrugs, “the usual.” Y/n says, handing him back his change. Harry thinks for a second, pausing his response making Y/n a little nervous. “I could help?” Harry offers, setting his coffee on the table. Y/n gives him a questionable look, sharpening one of her eyes at him. “You want to put tags on books and reorganize with me?” She asks, making Harry laugh. He nods, putting a bookmark back in its place “see, I’m already helping.” He says cheekily.

Y/n smiles, shaking her head. “I guess you can help.” She says.

Soon enough they are sat on the brown carpet, mountains of books around them. Y/n has a blanket wrapped around her and Harry has his legs stretched out. Y/n is tagging books while Harry is setting by the book shelf closest to them organizing. “I swear they put something in the water fountain at that school, the kids are always running and screaming around my classroom while I’m trying to talk about how Van Gogh cut off his own ear.” Harry says, making Y/n loudly giggle, thinking about how Milo probably gives him a horrible time on Wednesdays.

“You like working where Loralie is?” She asks, Harry of course nodding. Loralie is his baby, he loves knowing she’s just up the stairs- especially if she were to get sick or hurt he would be right there to take care of her. “Yeah, I wish I could always be with Milo but one of us has to make the money.” She jokes which makes Harry laugh.

“She always comes waddling into my classroom screaming for me- which disrupts the class but I don’t care.” He shrugs, his mind going back to Loralie. “Oh shit, I’ve got to pick her u-“

“Hi! How are you, baby!” Y/n cheers, Milo running toward her then crashing into her in a hug. Y/n’s friend Mikaela had babysat Milo for the day while Y/n tried to get as much work done as she could. Usually on the weekends (like today) Milo will be in the store with her… which tends to distract her. “Um, I’ve got to go but we should do this again? Maybe… over dinner?” Harry asks, Y/n’s face lighting up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” She teases, Harry blushing and nodding. Y/n laughs, slipping her phone from her pocket, “take my number and we can schedule that date you’re begging me for.” She teases.

Harry gets her number, thanking her for the book and letting him stay before he slips out. Now he’s got to get back to Loralie. But he’s got a date!

**

Later that night when Harry and Loralie are practicing her memorizing her ABCs his phone beeps. He ignores his at first, just expecting it to be a stupid text from his friend Mitch, but once he looks down he sees Y/n’s contact name. “Keep going, bug.” Harry says, grabbing his phone from the carpet while they set on the floor of the living room, unlocking his phone.

Hii, im free next Friday :) let me know if that works with your schedule!

Harry laughs at her cute little smiley faces, trying to think up a response that doesn’t make him sound a thousand years older than her. The tip of his tongue sticks out while he types back his response, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.

Hello! Friday works, how about 5:30? I can pick you up.

He lays his phone back down and helps Loralie with her letters, pulling her onto his lap. “D is for Daddy!” She cheers, making Harry smile, chuckling and kissing her round cheeks while she squeals. Harry hears his phone ding, grabbing it and reading the response, thanking god she answered. He thought his heart would explode out of his chest. It was beating so hard.

That sounds good ☺️ see you then!

Harry got her to say yes, but now he has to deal with the anxiety of actually going on the date. What should he wear, where should they go? Should he be opening the door and pulling out her chair or is that not in-in dating anymore? He hasn’t dated since Loralies mum and his baby is two years old now, it’s been quite a long time since he dipped his toe into trying to charm a woman. He just hopes he’s still got it.

****************************

The day is here. Loralie is with her grandma so Harry can get ready for the date. He’s been panicking and running all around his little house. He showered and smothered himself in lotion and his best cologne- he wanted to smell nice for her. He was adding leave in conditioner to his hair (which he hardly remembers to do) to make it more silky and the curls look a bit prettier than they usually do- he doesn’t know much about hair, he just does what his sister tells him what his hairdresser tells him he should do.

He planned out an outfit, a pair of tan dress pants with a white tank top and a cardigan over it. He had thought over the outfit a bit too much, was it too casual for the date? Was the cardigan too much? He decided against his thoughts and layers some pearls on, sliding his rings on that were in a jewelry dish, placed in there before his shower. He takes a look in the mirror, readjust his cardigan before he gives himself a little nod. He feels good about this.

He makes his way over to Y/n flat, walking up the metal steps to her flat and knocking on the door. When she opens the door he notices just how amazing her home smells, just like her book shop. He needs to remember to ask her where she gets her candles. “Hi,” Harry smiles, looking his date up and down. She was dressed nicely. It was a sage green dress with spaghetti straps, it stopped a couple inches above her knee. Harry thought it was cute.

She paired it with gold jewelry and a black cross body bag. Dirty white vans to go along with it that added a child-like feel to the outfit. Harry thought that was cute too.

“Hi,” she smiles, glancing behind her. “You look nice.” Harry says, suddenly feeling hot. Y/n laughs under her breath, thanking him. “You look nice as well.” Harry smiles bashfully, looking down at his feet. “Thank you”

Y/n says her goodbyes to Milo, hugging and kissing him before thanking her friend again for watching him. It’s the same one from last week, Mikaela. They get into Harry’s car, a bit of awkward silent before Y/n breaks it, Harry stopping the tapping of his fingers along to the low radio once her voice interrupts it. “So, where are we going?” She asks, smoothing her dress out against her thighs.

Harry laughs, he’s not prepared for dates and for some reason he hadn’t thought about the most important part. “I’ll eat anywhere to be honest.” Y/n admits, looking through her window at all the different places.

Harry was looking around in a panic and he finally pulled something out of his ass that sounded good, especially on his teacher salary. “Olive Garden?” Harry says, trying to say it confidently but it definitely comes out as more of a question. Y/n’s eyes light up, she’s in the mood for bottomless salad and breadsticks. “That sounds heavenly.” And Harry is happy to hear that.

They walk into the busy restaurant, instantly getting escorted to a table. Harry is happy they didn’t have to wait- that would have just been embarrassing since he threw this together last minute. They sat in the booth, sliding in and getting comfortable. “So, how’s the bookstore?” Harry asks, pulling apart his breadstick. Y/n knocks her shoe with his under the table, she thinks it’s cute how bashfully he can get when just asking a simple question. “It’s good. How are your little art students?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes at her choice of words.

“It’s good. They are doing self portraits.” Y/n laughs, her eyes widening.

“How’s that going?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “They look like shittier versions of Picasso’s paintings.” Y/n dramatically gasps through her laughs, “aren’t you supposed to worship the ground that man walks on? Why would you say that?” Harry rolls his eyes once again, chuckling at her. “I’m just behind honest!”

Their date goes on the same, they order their food, giggling while they eat and even getting into a little food fight with the leftover breadsticks. (They weren't being humble, they asked for another basket) They finished their food, “That was fun.” Y/n admits smiling. Harry nods, taking the check and opening his wallet. “Here,” y/n holds out her card, Harry shaking his head. “I’ll pay.” Harry shrugs her off, handing his card tucked in the black check book the waiter had brought over back to him before she can further protest.

Y/n scoffs, throwing another breadstick at him that he tried to catch but it’s too greasy. “Hey! I thought we had a truce?!” Harry questions her. She shakes her head, apparently swearing off the truce. Harry shrugs, thanking the waiter when he brings his card back along with their mints. “You better sleep with one eye open then.” Harry says, standing up and waiting for her. She laughs, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I have a three year old, I basically sleep with them both open. You’re nothin’.” She says, Harry nodding his head in agreement. He knows just how she feels.

They drive back to her flat, Harry of course walking her to her door. “I had so much fun tonight.” Harry says, looking down before he looks up at Y/n. She smiles, blushing. She hasn’t dated since Xavier and she admired that to Harry tonight, they both admitted that they haven’t dated since their children’s parents so they felt a lot comfortable knowing they were both rusty.

“Me too, you’re a really sweet guy, Harry.” She says. She needs to remember to thank her forgetful little Milo for leaving his folder in Harry’s classroom. “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me. I was pretty nervous.” Harry admits a bit sheepishly. Harry is a bit giddy on the inside about them hitting it off so well, they were having the best conversation and at times they were getting extremely loud, probably annoying the people around them, but they didn’t care, they had fun. “Yeah, I was nervous as hell but I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Thanks for tonight.” Y/n smiles, leaning in for a kiss.

Harry’s eyes widen, but he still kisses her back. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long he thought he had forgot how to for a second. His hands come up to cup her jaw, moving his lips with hers. “I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.” Y/n smiles, opening her door with red cheeks. Harry nods, a little flabbergasted. “Have a good night.” He says, trudging down her steps.

And now he’s hooked on her.

Tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

If you liked this please reblog and please tell me what you thought of it ☺️ thank you for reading!! I hope you all like the series so far I’m writing part three right now so it should come out soon ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[boytouya]

Can l please request Tomura shiggy with a himbo reader? Where the huge man gets cutesy sh*t like colorful stickers, plushies, rock necklaces from the nearby stream lake with dry bad painted. Or mismatched shirts and pants because it looked comfortable with them and he likes collecting them. Himbo reader doesn’t quite understand his bfs goal but he supports him even though he doesn’t get it. Once in a while, he puts glitter in Tomuras clothes on accident whenever he draws stick figures or wobbly lines on a drawing pad with markers and crayons. Found a shell? Give that to shiggy of course! Himbo reader would cook once in a while for the league and clean his room once in a while ;)

𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭

a/n: whoever you are….you are my favorite anon. this is the cutest idea. your mind…wow...

Warnings: None!

“You’re plotting for…. What again?” Your head cocks to the side like a puppy, Tomura finds his fingers twitching as you look up at him. You’re annoyingly cute. But also frustrating. He had explained his plans to take down hero society at least three times already. But somehow you managed to connect the dots between the timeline of his favorite video game. “No, no! It’s okay. I get it! Well, not really, but if you’re happy I’m happy.”

Tomura watches the charms of miniature items on your bracelets dangle as you give him a thumbs up, a small laugh slipping from your lips when he grunts in response. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the league’s biggest heist yet, a prison break. But instead he’s standing in front of a….bedazzled red trench coat with a scowl on his face. Not the whole thing, of course. Just a long, jagged stripe going through the middle.

“Did you….do this?” He grits out, whipping his head to the side to make eye contact with you. Your smile never wavers, an enthusiastic nod makes it hard for him to stay angry. If anyone sees this there’ll be rumors for weeks. The best part of being the leader of a feared organization is the fact that no one will say anything insulting to your face. It can be a blessing and a curse, because although it has its perks it’s annoying to hear that an ally made a joke about Tomura’s decorated shoe laces.

Your smile quickly falls into a frown when you see the gems. You get up to explain yourself, walking over to the trenchcoat and pulling a piece of paper out of its left pocket. Tomura’s eye twitches when you unfold it to reveal a poorly drawn image of you and Tomura holding hands in crayon, glitter, and whatever was on his jacket. Below the drawing read a little note that told him to ‘have a “dazzling” day!’ with a heart around it. You signed it at the bottom with a smiley face. Funnily enough, it matched the one you had earlier.

“I didn’t mean to, really Tomu! I swear! but it does look a lot prettier that way,” Your hands brush the sparkling gems as you pout. “Anything you wear looks pretty though. Oh! um,I drew it so you’d think of me on your lunch break.”

“Don’t touch my stuff. And we don’t get a ‘lunch break’,” Shigaraki snatches the drawing and balls it up, shoving it into his pocket. You both knew the second he gets back home he’d pin it on his wall next to your other drawings, though. You discovered the collage a few weeks ago, when you decided to clean up the hideout (Not that you were actually cleaning, it was more like leaving rocks, shells, and plushies you found around while putting away old stuff). “Speaking of stuff….What the fuck are you wearing?”

Your eyes trail down to your outfit. Why, it’s not bad at all! Your shirt is comfortable, and your pants may be a sickening color with a horrendous (homemade) Sanrio pattern on them, but they still get the job done! Plus who doesn’t like Sanrio? Okay, maybe they’re a little stretched…But that’s just because there’s so much of you to love! Perhaps the bracelets are a bit much. Or maybe it’s the miniature cake slice earrings? “...I don’t get it.”

“All that body and no brain,” Tomura gestures to the muscles on your body before he lightly taps his clenched fist against your forehead. “Sounds hollow. You look like Kingdom Hearts chewed you up and spat you out.”

“Oh, I look like a prince?” You reach up to knock your own hand against your forehead and your smile is back like it never left. Tomura wants to kiss you stupid (not that it’d be hard), make you finally shut up for once so you can stop rambling, make that deadly smile evaporate.In some ways you really do remind him of a prince. “You really are too sweet to me, Tomu. What’d a boy like me do to deserve a guy like you?”

He can practically see the hearts in your eyes as you squeeze him into your chest, rambling about how he reminds you of your favorite plushy. Tomura fights the overwhelming urge to hug you back, instead pulling away from your strong grasp with a feigned grimace. He misses your scent of warm vanilla and strawberries the second he pulls away. Internally, he deflates.

“Did I squeeze too hard?!” Your bottom lip trembles. How do you run on so many emotions at the same time?

“No,” Shigaraki says simply, pinching your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger. “I have to go. Take care of the house while I’m gone. No more than an hour.” He doesn’t like to say goodbye, you learned that when he first confessed his attraction to you. He made the mistake of bringing you along, and he thought the two of you would be separated forever. From then on, when the league left for their next mission Shigaraki took a liking to pinching your cheek instead.

“Oh! Let me help you with your coat!”

[kaylans-imagines]

solare

pairing: peter b. parker x fem! cheerleader! reader

solare: an italian word to describe a person who brightens the room, who is warm, good, and cheerful; who also worries about others. 

Synopsis: in which peter benjamin parker finds the personified version of warmth and happiness.

Peter Parker had endured a lot throughout his life. He had lost his uncle, his life for five years, then he came back, and then lost his mentor. It was a wonder to him and everyone else that he found a way to continue pushing through and fighting the fight for good, even if he at times couldn’t exactly figure out just why he was doing an unpaying job. He would push away those thoughts and remind himself that he did it for the little guy, for the underdog, for the people like him before he got bitten. Still, there were days when the darkness would cloud over his mind, and he would spiral into sadness. 

His Aunt May had suggested he go to a counselling group, someplace where he could express himself without fear of judgement or illwishers. Where he could find people he could relate to and for once have people care for him. He had dismissed that idea by claiming he didn’t have the time to do, too occupied in burying himself with his schoolwork, Spider-Man duties, and keeping up his social life. That was the end of that conversation, but he still couldn’t help but yearn for some type of way to release all the negative emotions that weighed heavily on his mind and his heart. 

He had admittedly been distant from his friends and from his Aunt May, but he couldn’t find it in himself to find something to talk about. He was thrust into a world that he didn’t recognise anymore. It had been five years, and in those five years, people had grown up, and things had changed drastically. Much like the person in the mirror, he didn’t recognise his surroundings when he looked around. He could only hope he wouldn’t drown and get stuck in a flood of uncertainties, in this new time without his mentor to guide him. 

He sighed through his nose as he swung around the lit city, back towards the comfort of his own bedsheets. He couldn’t wait to get lost under the sea of blankets and find comfort in the sounds of the bustling city. Spending all of his life in Queens, he grew accustomed to the yelling, the loud honking of horns, and the busy street life that now offered him solace. A haven. A source of relief he wasn’t able to find elsewhere. The confinements of his blankets and the sounds of New York gave him the ease he needed. 

Assuring his aunt that he was back home and alive, he quickly slipped into his bedroom and snuggled under the covers, relieving himself of the tension he carried. His mind fell into a trance of serenity and easiness as it wandered through happy memories he savoured—recollections of his Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and himself at the beach when he was younger. Uncle Ben and him bonding over ice cream while they walked in Central Park—Peter would point out a dog in the distance, Ben would look at it and then his nephew and chuckle, promising that when they get a bigger home, they will get a dog. He reminded himself of when he helped May with the gardening; it wasn’t much gardening, just a few pots on their balcony, but it was peaceful. 

His life was a routine. Every morning, he would wake up at the same time, have a quick breakfast, kiss his aunt goodbye, and the rush towards the train where he would go to school and meet Ned by his locker. The school day would cease, and he would go to decathlon practise until it was over, then make his way towards Delmar’s, which had re-opened in the five years he was blipped, and then complete the leftover homework he needed to do until he had to go on with his Spider-Man duties. It was the same, except for weekends, every day, and he was okay with that. It helped make his life easier—knowing that there were no surprises or changes in his day-to-day life made it easier for him and helped unburden him from the weight he carried with him. 

The day he met Y/N had been a good day. He hadn’t missed his train that morning; Flash wasn’t up to his usual antics, choosing to ignore him and flirt with an uninterested cheerleader, and he had a good feeling about the History exam in his third period. That was until he stepped into his Physics class and was informed of the new seating chart being projected in front of the class. He and Ned had been able to bypass the seating chart for two quarters already, but they both knew their luck would fizzle out and they would have to be separated. Peter hoped he would get seated with someone he knew, so long as it wasn’t Flash. He would take being a stranger's partner over being Flash’s partner any day. Sighing in relief when he didn’t see his name next to Flash’s, he searched for him on the screen. 

Peter Parker and Y/N Y/L/N, table 08.

Peter wasn’t good at making friends. He tried, but he always came off too strong or not strong enough. He was painfully awkward and stumbled over his words. He would also talk about something no one else was interested in and come off as weird and a ‘nerd’. Over time, he was able to be okay with having one friend, and just recently, his newfound group of friends. To force himself to make small talk with a new person made his stomach churn. He wished he could have May’s social skills and welcoming nature. 

Exhaling to relax the nerves building in his stomach, he made his way towards the table with a paper eight taped on it. It might have been the fact that the window was right beside the table or the fact that Peter hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but he swore he saw a glow bouncing perfectly off the silhouette seated on the hard stool closest to the window. She was looking out the window, perfectly content on looking at the garden Midtown had decided to grow during the five years half the population was gone. It was a beautiful garden. 

Shuffling on his feet, he dragged himself to the seat next to the seemingly glowing girl with intentions of sitting down without making noise, not to pull her from her gaze, but the universe had other plans. His toe met the stool’s hard metal, making the girl snap out of her daze and look at Peter with mild surprise. He was fully expecting her to lash out at him, to ask him why he needed to make so much noise, and he was fully ready to apologise. But the questioning never came, and neither did his need to apologise. Instead, he was met with a warm smile and concerned eyes.

“Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt,” she spoke with a lightness in her tone he had never heard before. New Yorker’s were usually brash and straight to the point; there was no place for airiness or lightness in voices. They didn’t care about anyone else but themselves and their loved ones. To feign importance in the busy city, one had to speak with importance. She was a breath of fresh air to him, like the feeling of the seaspray on his face when he steps into the ocean. Around her, he felt at peace. 

“I-I’m Parker, no,” he stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself, “I’m Peter.” This was the part where people would smile at him with fake sincerity, shake his hand, and make some excuse to leave. He was waiting for her to look at him with judgement and refuse to shake his hand. He wasn’t expecting her to take his hand into hers and shake it with a giggle. 

“Next to meet you, Parker Peter. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced. She drew him in by the way she stared at him, so deeply and with intrigue, and kept him wanting more of her presence in the way she spoke, with confidence but kindness. He was sure this was someone he needed in his life, someone he had to keep around. She was like the sun, and the sky rolled in one, someone he couldn’t help but stare at. 

They shared shy smiles, sneaking glances now and then. Peter couldn’t focus on his teacher’s rambling, too entranced by the body sitting beside him. From the corner of his eye, he could see her scribbling in her notebook, following along with what the teacher was saying. He could see little drawings on the corner of her paper; small hearts, smiley faces, and infinity signs taking up the corner. The sight of the doodles filled his heart with warmth; they were adolescent like and riddled with innocence. They were endearing, just like her. 

The class seemed to drag on, and Peter was barely able to keep up. His mind was in another world; thoughts of protecting the city after homework to what he would have for dinner. A small part was thinking of the pretty girl who doodled on the corners of her papers. She had drawn a small smiley face on his paper at one point and sent him a smile when he looked at her afterwards. She had made a long class, that usually felt like it dragged on, shorter and yearning for more time. If anything, just to sit there and be in her presence. 

The bell signalled the ending of the class, and Peter slowly stood up. He packed his belongings as slowly as he could. He looked to the side; she put her books into her bag - they were all colourful and decorated with glittery and bubble stickers. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She sent him a smile and stood up from her chair, pushing her chair in slowly. 

“Bye, Parker Peter. See you, next class,” she said sweetly with a wave and exited the class, a happy and light bounce to her step. He watched her leave. Her hair bounced and glossed under the school’s fluorescent lights, and her skirt sashayed behind her. He watched as she waved and greeted people before she disappeared from his view. He didn’t stand a chance with the pretty girl in his chemistry class. 

Ned bounded towards him, talking his ear off about what his partner did and how he was so glad he had someone who wouldn’t make him do all the work. Peter, at that moment, felt like a bad friend. He wanted to listen to his best friend, keep a conversation going. But all of him kept him from doing so, instead directing his thoughts towards the popular, bubbly girl who was now surrounded by her loads of friends at her locker. Peter smiled her way, not expecting it to be returned, but to his surprise, she smiled back and raised her hand with a little wave. He took the time to peak into her locker. He could see pictures and magnets lining up the area; permeating the dull grey with life and personality. He also made out the neatly folded cheerleader uniform resting on the top shelf. Of course, he would have to start crushing on an unattainable cheerleader. 

He had no choice but to settle for crushing on her and wanting her from a distance. He figured that simply being an acquaintance to her would be enough. It would be enough. Being in her life would be just fine. It was a sad thought, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t gone through before. The thought made his heart hurt, but that was also coupled with the thoughts he had already harboured—memories of his past, he and his uncle, of Tony. Those kept him up at night and clouded his thinking whenever he swung building to building.

That night was the same; he sat on top of his apartment building, taking in the changing scenery. The lack of stars once brought him comfort, but he found recently that they brought him more pain. Normally, he loved the vastness of the wide space and how little they knew about it. He would let his imagination run wild with possibilities of everything in the unknown. When he was younger, he liked to imagine there were aliens up there, living happily without care. He would divulge in that from time to time, feeding his inner child. He loved the tenacity, the freedom, and the serenity of it all. But the same things made him feel small. It put everything into perspective. It put into perspective how small he was. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was no escape. 

He sat on the edge of the building, taking in all the different personalities the city below him had to offer. Couples cuddled up with one another, walking into their shared homes. Families laughing with one another as they finished their night. Friends walked with one another, whispering in ears and cackling to drown the cars and taxis’ noise. That was the city he loved. The city he grew up in. But that didn’t stop him from wanting an escape. Somewhere far from the city where he could simply sit and think without the distractions. He knew that was wishful thinking, but it didn’t cost a thing to dream.

Choosing to end the night earlier than usual, he stood up from his place and swung forward. Aunt May wouldn’t be home, so dinner wouldn’t be ready until she got there. He considered going to Delmar’s; having one of his sandwiches always made him feel better. Something stopped him, though. Maybe it was the sound of a laugh, one he had heard before, or the familiar satin blue scrunchie that rested on her wrist. He watched her, talking on the phone and laughing and throwing her hands up in the air. He quickly averted his eyes, staring at her for too long was weird even if he was Spider-Man.

That night he slept better than usual. Aunt May had found him asleep on his bed with his arm hanging off the mattress, his body slanted, and his head hanging off to the side with his mouth wide open. While it was an awkward position, she was glad he was sleeping so early in the night. The years had been rough on him, pushing past his limits and stressing him beyond belief. He was overdue for a break, and a long one. But she knew her nephew; he would never take a break. The city of Queens needed him.

While he normally dreaded going to school, not because he had to pay attention, or because it was hard, but because for seven hours, the city of Queens was left defenceless and at mercy. But, this day was different. There was a spring in his step and an easy smile on his face, not even Flash’s taunting got to him. Walking into the chemistry classroom, his eyes roamed the classroom until they landed on his new table. She was already sitting there. Scribbling on her glittery notebook with a blue pen adorned with a fuzzy top. 

Settling down next to her, she sent him a smile, “good morning, Mister Peter,”

He laughed, “Good morning, Miss Y/N,”

Peter was left yearning for more interactions with the gorgeous cheerleader with the fun pens, especially after she gave him a sticker with a golden retriever on it; it was an adorable puppy with its paw out and licking, what he presumed, was glass. She had told him it was because he reminded her of a puppy, most notably a golden retriever puppy. Her words had made him flush and sputter over himself, nearly causing him to injure his hand on the bunsen burner set in front of them. She giggled and gave him another sticker; it was a simple smiley face that he put on his notebook next to the golden retriever. 

She had bitten the bullet one day and invited him to a football game, one against Midtown’s rival school. Peter had been to football games before, having been in marching band, but that was before he was Spider-Man. A high school football game wouldn’t fit in his schedule, but the way she asked him and looked at him with an expectant and hopeful grin had him saying yes. So, he did what any sane person would do, and said yes. She squealed and wrapped her arms around him, taking him but surprise and let go of his neck. She gave him another sticker that day, one with a teddy bear holding a red heart in its centre.

That’s how he found himself sitting in the uncomfortable metal bleachers next to Ned and MJ, who insisted on coming but wasn’t paying attention, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to block out the cold. While Ned was focused on the football game happening before them, and MJ was engrossed in her book, Peter found himself staring at the seemingly glowing cheerleader chanting out cheers and praises. He watched as she threw her pompoms up and waved them around when Midtown presumably made a touchdown and huffed in exasperation when they didn’t.

The final buzzer went off, knocking Peter from his trance. Ned and MJ were getting up from their seats and making their way down the bleachers making Peter scramble to catch up. They waited for him, rather impatiently as Ned was tapping his foot and MJ was patting her book, and he rushed towards them. He stopped when a small body in a blue and gold outfit stood in front of him, a grin on her face and her pompoms resting on her duffle bag. He locked eyes with Ned who gave him a thumbs up and pushed an unimpressed MJ away from the fence. 

“Parker! You came! Did you have fun?” she asked, her words rushed and fast as she could barely contain her excitement. Peter chuckled and nodded his head, wanting nothing more than to hug her. To help her calm down, of course. She took him by surprise, a common theme, by wrapping her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. He was glad she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating, but it was in overdrive. He thought that his senses had dialled up to one hundred when he was bitten, but it was nothing compared to how they were at that moment. She had a control over him that he never thought anyone would have. But he was glad it was her and not anyone else.

“What d’ya say Parky? You wanna go on a stroll?” Peter looked down at her and nodded his head. He hadn’t heard a word of what she said, too distracted by her beauty and the way her arms felt around him. She was the warmth on a cold day; hot cocoa under a blanket of snow, and the sunset after a nice day on the beach. She was someone Peter wanted in his life when things got to be too difficult for him to manage, and when he was at his highest because he knew she would only send him to the moon.

He waved goodbye to Ned and MJ, Y/N did too, promising to listen to Ned’s new LEGO purchase the following Monday, and watched as MJ’s car pulled away from the curb. She took his hand into hers and dragged him towards her car. She unlocked it before motioning for him to get in, throwing her bag into the backseat and starting the engine. He couldn’t help but glance around the car. Stickers decorated the dash in front of him; he was sitting in pink seat cover with the letters ‘TPWK’ stitched on it in white, and her steering wheel was decorated with a big sunflower. It was so unapologetically her, and that made Peter smile. 

In the time Y/N drove, Peter texted May and let her know he would be out late. He was met with a ‘good riddance! Stay safe :)’ in response. Peter watched the streetlights pass by as Y/N drove through the city and past city limits. For once in his life, since he was a child, he let himself be free and enjoy the scenery night brought. He was bummed that the city filled the night sky with smog because he really wanted to appreciate the beauty of the stars and the moon. He wanted to see her under the moonlight because he knew without a doubt that she looked even more gorgeous. He had been so distracted by his thoughts, that for once didn’t make him want to hide under a heap of blankets, that he hadn’t noticed she stopped the car. She hadn’t said anything; she just watched him. He was at peace, and that was all she wanted him to be.

Peter opened his eyes and looked ahead. He could see the city in the distance, the lights on in buildings, and with his super hearing, he could hear the city’s faint sounds. She cleared her throat and pointed up, her moon roof was open and exposed the glittering sky above them. He stared at it in awe. He knew they were far from the city, but he hadn’t realised how far, far was until he saw unfamiliar glistening above him. She watched him with soft eyes, smiling at his bafflement and wonder. It didn’t need to be said, but she knew he needed this moment. 

In the months that followed the switching of seats in chemistry class, she noticed things about him. The bags under his eyes that covered his freckles, the tired and subtle yawns, and the rushing of homework that was due the next period. She didn’t know why he was always tired, but something in her told her it was important. The bigger part of her told her that she needed to do something for him, something to distract him and ease his mind. So, she brought him to her spot outside of the city, to do what she did best. She stared at the moon and let her mind run with what it would be like to live in space and reside on the moon.

“You see that pattern up there; I call it the Huntress,” she pointed towards Orion, “stories of the stars are always about men, and the stories about women are always depicted as helpless. It makes me feel better knowing that a woman is the hunter in the stars, even if it is just in my mind.” Peter nodded along. He wanted to hear more. So, she told him her versions on the stars. He let himself get lost in her words, inching closer towards her over the console. She paused her story and motioned up towards the moon roof. He climbed out first and helped her, the two of them settling on top of her car.

She continued her story on the twins, the two of them leaning on one another. Peter felt all his inhibitions and everything holding him back let go and get lost in the night sky. That night he didn’t think of all he lost, of everything he had endured; that night he thought of the sunshine sitting next to him and how he would be okay in the face of peril, so long as he had her by his side. His personal cheerleader. He thought of the way her lips felt on his and the giggle that erupted from her soft lips; about how they tasted like pomegranate. 

In her, he found himself walking on the sun’s rays and being hugged by warmth. For once, he didn’t stare at the sun with anger; instead, he basked in her warmth because the warmth enveloped him. 

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Walk On By - Part 1

shoutout to @harrylefleur​ for this^ amazing edit!! thanks again for letting me use it, it’s perfect!!

A/N: hello!! i’ve been slowly cooking up this 70s dealer!harry au (also known as shroomrry) fic ever since the first italy pics surfaced. i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you have fun reading it! another massive thank you to brailey @daydreamsofh​ for yelling about shroomrry with me since the very first rough draft. your encouragement and support means so much to me!! ily <3

****DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This fic includes scenes in which characters purchase and consume recreational drugs (psilocybin mushrooms) as well as purchase and consume alcohol. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please do not feel pressured to read or interact with this fic. And do not consume if you are underage.****

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: ~5k

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**August 30th, 1977, Inglewood, California**

The evening sun beats down on you as soon as you step off the bus. You walk away from the door before reaching for the sunglasses hanging from the collar of your shirt and slip them onto your face before wiping the small beads of sweat from your brow.

“Stuffiest bus ride of my life.” Your roommate and partner in crime, Jenny, walks over to your side. She leans her head back and groans toward the sky, as if to broadcast her misery to anyone that will listen.

“Really? I thought it was a five star experience,” you reply flatly.

Jenny scoffs and looks at you in disgust before shoving your shoulder. “What bus were you on then?”

Your laughs quickly turn into blissful sighs of relief when a breeze picks up. A brief intermission from the heat and residual stickiness on your skin from the crowded bus ride.

“You’ve still got the tickets and the money, right?” Jenny asks.

“Yep.” You pat your purse. “You’ve still got that guy’s license plate number, right?”

Jenny reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “Yep.”

**********************************

The sign outside of the Forum looms over your heads as you enter the parking lot. The large black letters on the sign simply read ‘FLEETWOOD MAC. NIGHT TWO. SOLD OUT’. Even more gigantic is the Forum itself. You’ve been to a couple of shows at this venue before today, but you still can’t get over just how massive it is. It makes you feel so small even when you’re standing one hundred feet away from it.

Your mind begins to buzz with excitement and anticipation knowing that you’ll soon be inside seeing possibly one of the most in-demand shows of the year. It’s incredibly lucky that you were able to score these tickets anyway. Having a job at a radio station definitely has its perks.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Jenny’s nudging elbow. She holds the paper that has the numbers and letters of a license plate number scrawled on it in front of both of you.

“He drives a blue Pontiac Tempest. He said he was gonna try to park in the third row,” she says.

Both of you look at the paper for a minute, trying to commit the number to memory before setting out to comb the parking lot in search of this mystery man.

With all the other people milling around and gathering in the line outside of the venue, you wonder how many of these people are on a similar mission as you and your friend.

You turn to Jenny, “Do you know what this Harry guy looks like?”

“Uh,” Jenny draws out before pulling her gaze from the line of cars beside her. “My cousin Kathryn said he’s white,” she begins listing things off on her fingers, “has brown hair, has a lot of tattoos, and he’s British,” she looks at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

Jenny laughs when you roll your eyes, “Oh my god I know he’s British. You’ve been going on and on about how he sounded on the phone.” You walk a few more paces before asking, “How does she know him again?”

“They work together at the record store. You probably would have already met him if you weren’t so pretentious about where you buy your records.”

You switch from scanning over license plates to squinting at Jenny, “I’m not pretentious, the owner of that place is just an asshole.”

“You say that about nearly every record store owner.”

“Only the ones that are fifty year old men who constantly degrade female customers’ music tastes.”

Jenny sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Most of them are assholes.”

“Hey, maybe with your business degree you can be the first record store owner that’s not an asshole.”

She smiles at you and taps her temple with her index finger. “That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes flit over your shoulder. She stops abruptly and grabs your arm, “Oh-- hey, I think that’s him right there.”

You turn to follow her gaze. Immediately you spot the blue car. You both take another look at the note in Jenny’s hand. Sure enough, the license plate on the car in front of you is a perfect match.

So this is Harry. He has his head down and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration just beneath the frames of his yellow sunglasses. There’s a pencil behind his right ear and his left elbow is resting on the door frame, sticking out of his rolled down window, while his fingers are mindlessly fiddling with his neat mustache. On that same arm, you see scattered tattoos that begin at his wrist and run all the way up into the sleeve of his green and white striped t-shirt. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting of this man, but you can’t help but be struck by how handsome he is. The low hanging sun is casting golden light through his back window, shining through the ends of his brown tousled hair.

The pressure of a hand on your back pushing you forward causes you to whip around.

“Could you go talk to him?” Jenny asks softly.

You give her a ‘what are you talking about?’ look, “You’ve already spoken to him on the phone, Jen, he doesn’t know me.”

“I mentioned you,” she pleads. “Ugh I know I talked to him on the phone but now that I see him in person I’m too nervous.”

You take another look at Harry and look back to Jenny. “Okay, come on.”

As you get closer to his car with Jenny trailing behind you, you begin to hear the music blasting from his radio. Hearing the chorus of “Dancing Queen” somehow makes this situation a touch less intimidating.

You take your sunglasses off your face and hang them from the collar of your shirt. You  clear your throat once you feel like you’re close enough, hoping this would catch his attention. When he doesn’t move, you open your mouth only to realize that you have no idea what you want to say.

“Um,” you hesitantly mumble to yourself as you reach up and knock on the top frame of his window.

He slightly jumps and pulls his arm into the car in response. He mutters a ‘fucks sake’ before quickly turning his head to you, his eyebrows now creased in aggravation.

You jerk your hand back to your side. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure of having to do the talking or his intense stare, but you suddenly can't seem to string a full sentence together.

“Hi. Sorry. I, er--, we... um. We were supposed to--”

Harry looks past you to glance at Jenny and his face softens. He reaches over to turn the radio down before pointing his finger between the two of you, “Kathryn’s friends?”

“Yes,” you sigh in relief.

He nods, brushes a few stray hairs from his forehead and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Yeah, come on in.”

Hearing his soft British accent is a lot more endearing than Jenny’s annoying impressions of what he sounded like on the phone.

Jenny follows you around to the passenger side door and you pull on the handle.

When it doesn’t open, you reach through the window for the lock. You freeze when Harry’s hand meets yours. You lower your head slightly to look through the window and see him leaned over, still staring at your hands that are both grabbing the lever. He looks up at you and slightly shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls his hand away and reaches to lean the passenger seat forward.

You open the door and gesture for Jenny to climb in first. After you get in and close the door behind you, you plop down in the back seat next to Jenny, who’s sitting behind Harry. You do your best to hold back a hiss when the heat from the light blue leather seats burns through your trousers and the back of your thin t-shirt.

The car smells fresh and is very tidy aside from a few crushed gum packages on the floorboard. Two little tree air fresheners hang from his rearview mirror, swaying in the slight breeze. You peep down to his dashboard and smile.

“I like your stickers,” you blurt out, pointing to the smiley face sticker and the strawberry sticker above the volume and tuning dials on his radio. Mostly, you’re trying to make amends for startling him a second ago, but you’re also trying to dispel some of your nerves that are still fluttering around in your stomach. The mental image of him peeling stickers from a sheet and putting them on there himself seems to be helping a little bit.

“Thanks.” He cracks a smile over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of a dimple indenting his cheek. You visibly relax your shoulders upon seeing a change in his demeanor. “Would you mind reminding me of your names?” He asks, taking a glance at his rearview mirror.

You both introduce yourselves.

“So it was you that I spoke with on the phone last week?” he asks, turning in his seat and looking at Jenny.

“Yeah, that was me,” she grins.

“Right,” he huffs. “So I know what you’re both really here for but,” he trails off as he reaches into his lap and holds up a folded newspaper, displaying the daily crossword puzzle. “Are either of you any good at these?” He shakes his head, “I’ve got like... three left and it’s driving me crazy.”

Jenny hums as she takes the paper from Harry’s hand and holds it up between you. Coincidentally, Jenny happens to be very good at these puzzles, often taking this same section out of the paper every day.

She puts her finger up to the page and begins counting the boxes in one of the columns. “Fourteen down is ‘questionnaire’.”

As you skim over the page, you catch an error that could be hanging him up. “And seven across is misspelled. ‘Memento’ should start with M- E- instead of M- O-.”

Both of you look back up at Harry and Jenny hands the paper back.

In the same motion he takes the paper from Jenny and takes the pencil from behind his ear. He sets the paper on his center console and brings his bottom lip between his teeth as he erases and fills in the boxes on the puzzle.

You and Jenny exchange a private laugh. If anyone had asked the both of you to predict how this interaction was going to go, this would not be part of it.

“Well. Thanks. It probably would have taken me forever to get those.” He tosses the paper and pencil on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat and uses his finger to push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Now, do you have cash with you?”

The shift in his tone catches you off guard, the friendly lilt in his voice being replaced by one more quiet and flat.

Jenny looks over at you.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You pull four ten dollar bills from your purse and hand them to Harry.

He fans them out before folding them twice and putting them in his pocket. He opens his console. There’s some shuffling before he closes it again and carefully passes you two small envelopes. “Should be one gram in each of those.”

You lean forward in an attempt to shield your actions from people who may be passing by. Carefully, you break the tape seals across the front of the envelopes with your thumb and take a peek inside. Satisfied with the amount of shriveled mushrooms you see, you reseal the envelopes and stuff them into your purse.

“You’ve both taken these before, right?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, a few times before this,” Jenny says.

“Nice. So you know they usually take about half an hour to start working and you’re probably in for about four to six hours of effects and all that?”

“Yeah,” you and Jenny say in unison.

“Okay, I just-- I always want to make sure, you know?” Harry scratches his chin and looks to the side in thought. “Did you drive here?”

You shake your head. “No, we took the bus. And Alice, our friend, is gonna pick us up after the concert.”

He nods, “Okay, good.” He lowers his voice. “The last thing I’ll say is I’ve seen quite a few cops around so… if I were you I’d duck into a bathroom or something to take those.” He slightly raises his hands, “But obviously all of that’s up to the both of you so…” he trails off and shrugs. “Ultimately I hope you both have fun.” He looks at you with a sincerity that puts you at ease. It makes you feel a lot better that he seems to genuinely care about both of you being safe and having an enjoyable experience. You can’t say the same for other dealers you’ve come in contact with.

“We’ll just see what happens I guess,” you shrug back.

“I think we should head in now.” Jenny says, craning her head past Harry to look at the line of people. She pats the back of his seat. “Thanks so much, we really appreciate it.”

“Sure, was great to meet you both.”

“Was good to meet you. Are you going to the show as well?” you ask while reaching forward for the door handle.

He instantly perks up. “I am. Managed to get a ticket. It’s in the nosebleeds but…”

“I had nosebleeds when Queen was here a few months ago and it was still a fantastic show,” you reassure him. You climb out and hold the door for Jenny. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Take care!”

You close the door and wave goodbye.

You and Jenny link arms as you’re walking toward the venue, and extra spring in your steps after jumping that hurdle.

She whispers, “I told you he was British.”

“Jen.” You roll your eyes and elbow her side.

You look over at your friend who’s now covering her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her laughter. You steal a glance over your shoulder. The last thing you see before you turn back around is Harry staring directly back at you.

**********************************

Jenny walks in front of you, weaving through the groups of people as you both search for a water fountain to wash the earthy taste of the mushrooms from your mouths.

You both join the line behind the fountain closest to the main entrance. When Jenny leans down to take a drink, you spot a familiar green and white striped shirt amongst the crowd of people streaming in. Harry is strolling by, heading toward the arena entrance.

He glances in your direction and does a double take. He instantly grins and raises his eyebrows at you, giving you a thumbs up before mouthing ‘have fun’ and disappearing around the corner.

Your cheeks warm and your stomach flutters.

After you’ve had a drink from the fountain, you and Jenny make your way into the expansive arena and join the crowd of people in general admission.

About half way through the opening act, just as you’re about to ask Jenny if she feels anything happening yet, you see her looking at you fervently and everything around you starts to feel dream-like. The spotlights on the stage begin to look like halos, making it impossible for you to turn away. You start to feel as if the music you’re hearing is coming from your own body. The drum beat bursting through your chest and every note from the guitars coming from the tips of your fingers and the ends of your hair.

The euphoria of being surrounded by love and joy takes over you, making you laugh and dance and sing until the music comes to an end.

**********************************

You’re sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Forum, legs crossed in front of you with your elbows resting on your knees and your head resting in your hands. The concrete  has finally cooled off after the heat of the day. You’re hunched over, currently transfixed by a trail of ants marching along the smooth surface in front of you.

“It’s like you can hear all their little footsteps,” you say, your eyes open wide in awe.

Jenny, who’s sitting across from you in a similar position, giggles in response to your observation before gasping. “I hear them too.”

Both of you snort and break out into unrestrained laughter. It’s never felt so good to have the sound of laughter ringing through your ears.

After a moment, you start to hear the sound of something else. It sounds like your name is being called, but it’s not coming from Jenny. You hear your name again, closer now. It sounds as if it’s echoing from the enormous wall of the Forum right next to you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion and curiosity as you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder.

You’re immediately filled with excitement upon seeing the friendly face walking toward you.

“Harry!” you exclaim, waving wildly.

A smile spreads across his face and you swear little sparkles appear next to his dimples.

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he makes his way over to stand next to you and Jenny. You have to crane your head back to see his face from your position on the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” he eyes both of you curiously.

You simply nod in response.

“What are you guys still doing here?”

Jenny sighs as if this is the twentieth time he’s asked, “We’re waiting for Alice.”

“Well,” he trails off while scratching the back of his head, “you probably don’t know this, but the concert ended about two hours ago.”

For whatever reason, this sends you and Jenny into a fit of howling laughter.

Jenny suddenly stops and looks at you wide eyed. “Hey, lets just take the bus home.”

You gasp and grab Jenny’s shoulder, marveling at her great idea. “The bus! Let's take the bus!”

You rise up to your knees with a newfound surge of energy and Jenny follows.

“No no no no no,” Harry surges forward and presses one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on Jenny’s, urging both of you to sit down.

He sinks to the ground along with you, propping himself on one knee. “Do you have Alice’s number with you? I can try giving her a call?”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s speaking to you. “Yeah I have my address book in my purse--,” you look down to your side and freeze at the sight of the zipper on your bag. Your stomach drops. You definitely do not want to put your hands anywhere near the jagged edges of the zipper that are suddenly taking on the shape of menacing teeth.

You barely hear Harry let out a breathy laugh. You look up to him and he points to your bag. “Need some help?”

“I….. uh…..” You’re not completely sure what to focus on or how to put your thoughts into words.

Before you can ask for help, he slowly reaches out and takes your bag between his fingers, bringing it away from its resting place on your hip. “S’ this alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

He slowly unzips the bag and you grimace at the unsettling noise. Once it’s been opened all the way, he slightly tilts it toward you and asks, “Can I look inside? Or do you wanna do it?”

You flinch away and shake your head profusely, raising your hand up as a barrier between you and the bag. “No, you do it.”

He looks down, reaches his hand into your purse and starts carefully poking through it.

Your shoulders relax as you turn your focus to his hair. It seems to be much curlier and fluffier than before. It looks… inviting, like a soft blanket that you want to curl up into. It seems to have its own gravitational pull. You lean forward, bury your nose in it and take a deep breath in. The smell of apples and some cologne you don’t recognize and the scent of his sweat swirl together in an exhilarating way.

Harry slowly lifts his head up and eyes you suspiciously over the frames of his sunglasses that have slid down the bridge of his nose. Now that you’re sitting here eye to eye with him, you notice every single detail of his face that you hadn’t been privy to before. Every eyelash, the crease between his eyebrows and the way one of them is slightly raised. The deep set dimple in his cheek due to the smirk pulling up on one side of his mouth. The thin green irises of his eyes.

The more you look into them, the bigger they get, and the more you’re able to see your own reflection in his pupils. You tilt your head and smile as they keep growing in size. Just as they're getting to a comical level, making him look more like a cartoon character, you notice a blush creep onto his cheeks.

He folds his lips into his mouth, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head before returning to his search through your purse.

Harry finally pulls out your yellow leather address book. The white daisies printed on the cover seem to dance and twirl in place when he holds the book up and opens it.

Your purse is returned to its previous position on your hip before he looks at you again. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the payphone a few feet from you. “I’m gonna go call Alice. You guys just stay right here, alright?”

When he starts to get up to his feet, you blurt out, “I have dimes you can use.”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he waves you off, “That’s alright, I’ve got some.”

You watch as he walks over to the payphone. You watch as he digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins in his palm. He inserts a dime into the coin slot and cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. You watch his every move until the stripes on his shirt begin to ripple as if they’re made of water. This plus the flickering light above the phone becomes too much for you to handle.

You lay on your back with your hands folded across your stomach and begin to take in the stars in the sky, which are somehow less overwhelming than a simple striped t-shirt.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this. You feel like you’re so close to the stars in the night sky that you could reach out to touch one, or maybe even cradle one in your hands to feel its warmth. The sound of Jenny sitting next to you humming some tune you don’t quite recognize only adds to the peacefulness you’re feeling.

A bright light suddenly overwhelms your vision and you look over to your left to see a pair of headlights coming toward you. You hoist yourself up from the ground and bring your arm up to shield your eyes from the blinding light.

The car screeches to a halt at the curb. The first thing you see after the driver’s side door opens is a head of curly hair that can only belong to your friend Alice.

“Holy shit you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” She rushes over to where you and Jenny are sitting. Only half of the words she’s saying are even registering in your mind. “I ended up falling asleep and then there was a car wreck on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles and-” She stops in her tracks once she’s standing in front of you and snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god you guys are so fucking high.”

Her laughter is interrupted by Harry. “Are you Alice?”

“Yeah, who are you?” she replies with a slight edge to her voice.

“Sorry. I-- I’m Harry. I... uh… I gave them the…”

“Oh you’re Harry. Well. Thanks so much for sticking around with them but I can take it from here.” She shakes hands with Harry before extending a hand to Jenny, helping her stand up and walking her to the car.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way to your feet and walk over to Harry. He grunts when you clumsily wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you Harry. You’re a very nice person,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re… You’re welcome.” The vibration of his chest when he chuckles travels all the way down to your toes. You also pick up the thrumming of his heart beating wildly against your ear. His hand lightly rubs your back.

You soon hear Alice’s voice behind you saying your name. The feeling of her lightly tugging on your t-shirt coaxes you away from Harry and into her arms.

Before you know it, you’re settled into the backseat of Alice’s car next to Jenny and Alice is shifting to drive.

As you slowly pull away from the curb, you steal a glance over your shoulder to see Harry standing on the curb. He has one hand on his hip and the other is scratching his jaw as he watches your car move away. His figure is getting smaller and smaller as you leave the venue. Just before you turn the corner, you see him step over to the payphone again.

**September 1st, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

You take a long sip of your coffee as you carefully place the needle on your record player. After a few seconds of rustling and popping, the first kickdrums of The Five Stairsteps’ “O-o-h Child” fill your living room, followed by a chorus of trumpets.

Jenny left for work early in the morning and you have a day off, so you’re relishing in the freedom of having the house to yourself.

You walk through the doorway into the kitchen where your fried egg is sizzling on the stove. With your free hand, you take a plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter before grabbing a spatula, turning the burner off, and carefully lifting the egg out of the pan onto your plate. You pluck the piece of toast from your toaster and turn to set your plate on the table along with your coffee mug. The only thing missing is the newspaper, which is most likely still sitting at the end of your driveway from the morning delivery.

You pad through the hallway to the front door, turn the lock, and swing it open. As soon as the early fall air hits you, however, you come to a halt and let out a shocked gasp.

An equally startled Harry is standing on your front doorstep with one hand behind his back and the other hovering over your doorbell. All of your systems stall for a moment, as if you’re trying to connect whatever dots you can to make this scene make sense in your brain. You can feel heat quickly spreading all over your face each second you both stand there in silence, which you both break at the same time.

“What are you--?”

“Sorry I--”

You press your lips together and wait for him to continue.

“I’m sorry. I, um,” he clears his throat before dropping his hand by his side, “I should have called ahead of time.”

“What-- uh,” you stop to rephrase your question since What are you doing here? sounds a little more blunt than you’re wanting to be. “What brings you here?”

“I just thought I would stop by on my way to work.” He pulls his hand from behind his back, revealing the yellow and white cover of your address book in his hand. “Wanted to return this to you.”

He must have picked up on your confusion as you take the book from his hand and run your thumb over the cover.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally left it on top of the payphone after the concert. Didn’t realize until you had already driven off. But your address and everything is written in the front so… thankfully it wasn’t hard to figure out how to get it back to you.” He gestures to the book before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” you draw out as the realization dawns on you. In the process of debriefing your trip with Jenny and Alice, you thought that Harry had given your address book back to you, concluding that it must have been somewhere in your house. You figured it would turn up someplace unexpected, and technically you turned out to be right. You laugh to yourself, “I thought I lost it somewhere in my house or something. I-- Thank you.”

You spare a glance at him for long enough to catch the tight grin on his face, causing his dimples to indent on his cheeks.

As you’re taking in his loose fitting white shirt and ripped jeans, you’re quickly becoming aware of the fact that you’re only dressed in cotton shorts and your old UCLA t-shirt you had slept in. If this whole interaction had been timed better you at least could have run to your bedroom to throw on pants or a sweater before answering the door. You reflexively cross your arms in front of you.

“So you had a good time, I hope?” Harry’s question interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Alice just brought me and Jenny back here and we sat around listening to music and talking. Then we pretty much spent all day yesterday sleeping so.” You shrug.

“Did your bag give you any more trouble?” he squints, pausing around the word ‘bag’ and giving you a sly smirk.

You scoff and shift your weight to lean against the doorframe. “No, it did not,” you mutter defensively toward the ground.

He breathes a laugh through his nose and you urge yourself to steer the subject of conversation slightly away from the specifics of your high state the other night.

“Also, thanks so much for staying there with us. I mean, who knows what we could have gotten into.”

“Oh, it was no problem. I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff while on shrooms, even when I’m supervised so…” he trails off into a chuckle.

You smile at his confession, somehow you can’t imagine this level-headed man doing anything stupid.

He continues. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” After a brief pause he adds, “You and Jenny.”

Your eyes snap up after he corrects himself.

He looks down at your doormat, scratching his chin. His cheeks tinge a light shade of pink.

“Well thank you. And thank you for coming to return this,” you say through a deep sigh, raising the book in your hand.

“Of course.” He looks over his shoulder at his car parked on the curb before turning back to you. “Well, I better get going. Was good to see you.” He nods before turning toward the street.

“Yeah, see you around.”

“Take care!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing a peace sign in the air.

Once he’s walked away, you retreat into your hallway and close the door. Your house is now quiet since the record you were playing has reached its end. There’s nothing to mask the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You stare at the door for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head.

“See you around?” you mock yourself. “Where are you going to see him around?” You rest your forehead against the door and let out a deep sigh that gradually turns into a groan.

Harry’s car rumbles to a start outside. You don’t want to release the tension in your shoulders until you’re certain he’s driven away.

A thump on the other side of the door makes you jolt back. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you look through the peephole and see Harry climbing into his car and shutting the door.

You reach down to the door knob and open the door halfway, barely poking your head out. You can’t seem to find the source of the noise until you look down and see the newspaper rolled up in a rubber band sitting on your welcome mat.

You glance back at Harry just in time for him to flash a smile, give you a wave, and take off down the street.

*************************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 1, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

you can find my masterlist here and my inbox here

-> PART TWO <-

[missmitchieg]

Gifts Of Love

3. Julie To Reggie - A Banjo

"Hey, Reggie." Julie looked up from the half written essay on her laptop screen, tucking a curl behind her ear.

Reggie hummed in response, braiding the left side of Alex's hair while Luke worked on the right side.

"I just realized I've never actually heard you shred on a banjo." Julie pointed out with a tilt of her head.

"Oh." Reggie stopped and blinked, sighing softly.

"Shoot. Sorry, Reg." Julie winced, realizing this was much more of a sore subject than she realized.

"No, no. I-it's fine, Julie." Reggie assured her. "The night of The Orpheum, I left the banjo at home because we don't have any country songs. My parents moved away after that night and I don't know if they divorced and one of them kept it, or they tossed it after. Who knows where my banjo is now." He frowned, still gently, carefully braiding Alex's hair back.

"Sorry about your banjo." Luke gave an apologetic look.

Reggie gave a small, crooked smile and shrugged. "It's cool, bro. It's not like banjo's my only love."

Julie frowned and sighed, shaking her head silently. She had to make this better. She had to find Reggie a new banjo. She perked up and smiled as an idea hit her, excitedly finishing up her essay so he could enact her next 'make her phantoms smile' plan.

"Hey, dad?" Julie smiled as she poked her head into her dad's bedroom the next day.

"Hmm? Oh. Hi, mija. Do you need something?" Ray smiled as he pulled his socks on.

"Oh, just had a question." Julie leaned against the door frame. "Do you remember when I was five and had that banjo phase for a month until I realized I like piano and singing more?" She asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Do we still have that banjo? I figure if we do still have it, we could give it to someone who will actually enjoy it, and I have this friend-" Julie blinked as Ray appeared in front of her with a little white banjo covered in butterfly and smiley face stickers in his arms.

"A friend who wants to play this sticker covered banjo?" Ray smiled. "That's very sweet of you, Julie. I'm sure your friend will appreciate this."

"Thank you, papa!" Julie smiled and went onto her tippy toes to press a kiss to Ray's cheek and grabbed the banjo. "Oh. Love you, dad."

"Love you, too, mija." Ray called as Julie walked away to give the instrument away to her friend.

Julie hid the banjo behind her back as she walked out to the studio and pulled the door open, grinning at her phantoms as she walked in. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey, superstar!" Luke saluted from his spot laying on the sofa.

"Hi, Julie!" Alex grinned.

"Hi, Jules!" Reggie waved from his spot next to Alex in the loft.

"Reg, come down, bro! I have something for you." Julie said excitedly, bouncing in her spot.

"Something for me?" Reggie smiled at Alex before poofing back downstairs, appearing in front of Julie. "What is it?"

Luke sat up with a smile, excited to watch Julie be the sweet kind angel he knew she was.

Julie chuckled shyly and looked down with a shrug. "I know you're just pretending the banjo wasn't that special to you so the rest of us wouldn't feel sad for you." She started. "And I remembered I had a banjo phase when I was five and-" she lifted the banjo toward Reggie with a smile, clasping her hands together.

"You're giving me your old banjo?" Reggie breathed quietly and admired the instrument. "Julie, no. I can't accept this." He said with a shake of his head.

"I thought if I wasn't using this anymore, then you should have it, hermano. Put some love back into this old thing." Julie reasoned, patting his shoulder. "Plus, I really wanted to hear you shred on it." She admitted with a laugh.

Reggie chuckled, gently taking the banjo from her and plucking a few strings. "Thank you, Julie."

"No big. I love you, Reggie."

"I love you, too, sis."

[2018shawn]

love (sticky) notes

a/n: I forgot I wrote this and I'm clearing out my drafts so here we are why!!! the fuck not!!!.... here is a whole lotta y/n feeling and looking her best SELF n loving herself like we all should as strong independent women. you’re all beautiful 🥺🥰

warnings: alludes to smut, a little swearing, a little fluff, a little happy

 Tom let himself in, just like you requested, because you were both at that stage now. The stage where you weren’t exclusively each other’s, but exclusively and most definitely were not anyone else’s. It was fun; things going at their own pace, no pressure, no rules, just you and Tom being, well, you and Tom.

“Your Prince Charming has arrived!” Tom shouted, making you aware of his presence. Last thing he wanted after a shitty day doing filming was to be knocked out by you because he’d scared you shitless. He hung his back pack on the hooks you kept by the door, kicking his converse off so they landed next to your very own trusty pair. He smiled; his n hers.

You shook your head to yourself as you continued to change in your room, the door open just enough for his voice to flood through. “Okay well Prince Charming can make himself at home and there’s a beer on the table for you.”

Your shoebox apartment was small enough that you didn’t really need to shout, more so just talk loudly in order for him to hear you. He noted the ice cold Budweiser sat on the coffee table in front of your sofa, condensation dripping from the neck of the bottle. You’d left a sticky note on there, with a simple smiley face and a kiss for no particular reason at all, other than that you loved a sticky note. He slumped into the sofa - he loved your sofa more than his own, it was real cloudy (his words, not yours) - reaching over for the refreshing beverage before kicking his feet up on the table. A warm smile spread across his lips as he peeled off the sticky note. He wanted to wife you, he knew that much.

“How was your day, darling?” He asked, taking a large gulp from the drink, which indicated how his went. He fiddled with the sticky note, pressing it down onto the material of his t shirt, like when you go to the dentist as a kid or you get all your spellings right at school and get rewarded with a sticker; this time, you were his reward.

Small mumbles escaped your lips as you fiddled with your unfamiliar change of clothes in the bedroom. You couldn’t quite get the clasps right and wondered how there were women out there who wore stuff like this on a daily basis. Although you had to admit, so far, so cute. “Yeah, okay I guess. My boss was a jerk again but what’s new.”

Unbeknown to Tom, your foot rested on the bed, one at a time, as you rolled stockings up your legs, letting them snap to your thigh when they were high enough. “You need to tell him to come see me.” He replied, and you knew he was tensing his jaw.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but feel giddy and warm at the way Tom got jealous and protective over your relationships with you boss, especially when you once let it slip he asked you on a date but you politely declined. “Sure thing,” you laughed, grabbing the last item to complete your outfit, sliding it over your shoulders.

You asked him about his day, and you soon learnt that he couldn’t quite get the scene right, resulting in a hella load of retakes and okay guys, let’s take a minute moments. Glancing over the bedroom one last time before you opened the door fully, you checked everything was in order, no washing or Winnie the Pooh pyjamas laying around. A final walk past the mirror stopped you in your tracks, head snapping to face your reflection. You barely recognised yourself; the nicest underwear you’d bought or even worn in god knows how long adorned your body, colourful floral pattern contrasting against your nude skin. You think you looked nice; you felt nice, and as your mum once told you - who’s gonna love you if you ain’t gonna love yourself. Even though you were queen of putting yourself down and picking at things you didn’t like about yourself, you’d also grown to live with your imperfections. A final brush of your fingers over the light pink, mesh material smoothed out the matching kimono to your set and you swallowed a gulp.  

The door to your bedroom creaked open, and from where you stood you could see his crazy brown hair sticking up from the couch, his head leant back against the head rest. Your living room was pretty much in front of your bedroom door, the kitchen to the right and bathroom to the left. It was nothing special, but it was your little home and you loved it. The back of the sofa faced your bedroom door, Tom only aware that you were entering the room due to your quiet footsteps on the floor.

“... and I swear to god, you know like when you thought you’d be baby Jesus in the nativity but you get given the part of a tree? That was her, she wanted to be in every bloody take!” He sighed, rambling on about some girl in the scenes that was only supposed to be there as an extra.

His eyes were closed as you walked closer to him, legs spread apart and bottle resting on his leg with the support of his hand. You wanted to run straight around and straddle the living daylights out of him, but self control needed to be a thing here. Each of your hands came to his tense shoulders, your fingertips beginning to knead at his strong structure. He hummed in return, a satisfied smile creeping upon his lips, his eyes remaining shut as he enjoyed the relaxing gesture. “You’re nice.” He simply said and you watched how his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.

A giggle fell from your lips as your hands loosened on his shoulders. He was about to groan at the sudden lack of touch, but was stopped when your hands flately ran from his shoulders and down to his chest. He’d been working out for the filming of the movie and you could feel it, his chest hard beneath the surface of his shirt. You laughed at the sticky note on his chest, avoiding knocking it off as he pulled a pouty face, his lips stretching out for a kiss. Hovering over the top of him, you bent your head down to place a delicate peck on him, so delicate you barely touched at all. Your hands roamed down to his torso, feeling him tense up beneath your touch as your hands ran over each pair of abs. His lips were still stifly pouting, needing a real kiss to be satisfied.

When you were happy his shoulders were less tense and his body a little more relaxed, you let your hands rest in one place. It was ironic really, that you were the one upside down, kissing him, because wasn’t that spider mans job once? Nevertheless, you continued, not entirely sure how to approach an upside down kiss but going with the same approach as normal. Your fingers grabbed at tufts of his T-shirt as your lips came into contact, his hands working their way up above and behind him to lace around the back of your neck. The sound of the billie eilish playlist was nothing but background noise as you loved on each other passionately, the sounds of your lips hard at work filling the quiet space.

He hummed into your lips as your hair fell from behind your head, gliding down and landing across his chest and neck. His face scrunched up, your brown curls tickling his sensitive area as he let a small giggle escape his lips and god, did you think it was the cutest thing in the world.

Standing upright, he pouted at your disappearance, peeking one eye open as he realised he was yet to lay his eyes on you tonight; that was usually the first thing he did. The straighter you stood up, the lower down your body his hands went. Considering he was spider man and billy Elliot, he appeared to not be all that flexible, his hands only just able to grasp the top of your arms.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the feel of your clothing, the mesh material feeling foreign to his touch. You stayed at each other’s houses long enough for him to know that you very much prefer a baggy t-shirt to lounge in, to which he had no objections. Mainly because a) they were normally his t-shirts and b) they almost always stopped at the top of your thighs, giving him a pleasant view for his time with you. His hands enveloped around your arms, snaking downwards until they reached your wrists and he began to fiddle with the unfamiliar sleeved embroidery. He could tell the stitching of the flowers were beautiful, but not nearly half as beautiful as you.

You admired his soft touch, watching down at him as he opened his other eye, smiling up at you. “Hey.” He smiled, flashing the movie star smile you fell for months ago. 

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you tucked the front of your hair behind your ear, “Hey.”

He was too busy staring at your face to notice your attire, but when his eyes finally travelled down to your chest, they widened. His lips parted into an o, his chest coming to a halt as his breathing stopped. The bralet you was wearing was a see through mesh, your nipples only covered by the embroidered flowers matching to the ones he’d felt on your sleeves. The pink and green colours complimented you perfectly and he was at a loss for words. He leant forward on the sofa, placing his beer own on the coffee table and you weren’t sure how he didn’t miss, because his eyes didn’t leave your body the entire time. 

Kneeling up onto the sofa, he finally faced you, hands gripping the back of the sofa. “Holy shiiiiiiiit,” he groaned, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. His eyes began to travel further down your body, not really wanting to move away from your incredibly curved breasts, but eager to see what the rest of you had to offer. Your waist was bare and he continued to the top of your hips, where the matching, delicate suspender belt began to cover your stomach. It flowed down, past your bellybutton and ended just above the top of your thighs. Peeking out from underneath were of course the matching pants and the most unique noise left his lips, something half way between a whimper and a groan. 

He didn’t noticed how his knuckles were turning white as they gripped the sofa because he was scared if he let go, he’d pass out. You let him admire your body, knowing it wasn’t exactly the usual welcome home you’d normally give him. But when his stare started to burn into you and felt more than torturous, you had to say something. “Um... is this ok?” You looked down at yourself then back up to the love eye emoji knelt in front of you. 

“Is it - are you fucking even real?!” He finished speaking with his mouth still open, hanging down and eyes wider than ever apart from the few times he blinked hard, to see if he was imagining things. You laughed, taking it as one of the best compliments you’ve ever received. 

You started walking backwards, getting closer to your bedroom door with a suggestive smirk on your lips, “well, are you coming?” 

And that was all it took for him to climb and stumble over the back of the sofa, nearly throwing himself onto the floor in the process as he chased into your bedroom where he very, very much enjoyed the rest of his evening. 

------

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls

[heroprose]

the regular;

a/n. well what do u know.... turns out i WILL be writing for jojo on this blog...... @jojosmilktea, that is!! hi jojo i was ur bnha spring event anon! and i’m SOOO sorry this is late RIP!!!

ship. shoto todoroki x reader

summary. bubble tea shop au. it’s true that he knows your order by heart, but he wishes he knew a little more.

//

to be quite honest, you didn’t know this bubble tea shop even existed in this part of the city. 

it certainly didn’t look the part, all pristine with white stone walls and flower boxes hooked onto the closed glass windows. no, in fact it looked a little too bougie for this gray high rise district and you suspect that if it were not for the current downpour, wherein great big rivulets of water are endlessly streaming down the streets, hipsters would populate this cafe’s space in no time.

you cannot blame them, of course. it’s certainly a nice building and totally instagram-worthy. but what attracts you to it is not the vintage stone walls nor the massive poster plastered on the inside of the glass window, with vibrant letters that spell out NEW SEASONAL FLAVORS! but instead, it’s the generous pink awning in front that’s saving you from the insidious downpour. 

you were supposed to do a little grocery shopping before heading home, damn it. technically, though, you could brave the rain for a while and shop for bread and eggs while sopping wet, but it’s a deeply unappealing idea. it doesn’t help that your go-to grocer with the terrific deals is three train stops away either and that your phone is dead, drained from too many rounds of crossy road on your commute long before the rain even began.

restless, you squint through the window of the shop inconspicuously and gape in horror as you realize it is just as cute inside as it is outside. from what you can tell, it’s set up like a little garden party, with metal outdoor chairs and circular tables and the tiles even have flower smiley face stickers on them. oh no. 

it is something of a relief you’ve only discovered this bubble tea shop now because any earlier would have you blowing your bank account on extra boba and grass jelly. and in this economy? not ideal.

still, your eyes waver to the poster again. rose milk tea? peach iced tea? the prices aren’t listed anywhere so you presume they must be absolutely monstrous. completely insane, probably, and jacked up immensely to compensate for the expenses gone in the decor alone and--

“we’re open, you know. you can come in.”

you pull away from the window hastily, letting your back bump into the metal back of chair. biting back a cry of pain, you eye the speaker head-to-toe before letting your shoulders slack. the black apron tied at his waist screams barista. actually, everything about this dude screams barista, from the rolled up sleeves to the vaguely disheveled collar. even the watch on his wrist-- woah. is that a limited edition tag heuer watch? you blanch a little.

he grips the broom with both hands and gestures with the jerk of his chin to the door. “you can come in,” he repeats. his bangs flutter about his forehead thanks to the gusts of wind and it’s a bit mesmerizing to see the red and white flutter like that. 

“oh,” you say, desperate to recompose yourself as you pretend you weren’t wringing out droplets of water from your clothing just minutes before. “it’s okay, thank you. i’m just waiting for the rain to pass.”

the barista opens his mouth but before he can speak, a loud clap of thunder zips through you and goosebumps erupt across the expanse of your skin. with ears ringing, you wince and the tag heuer-wearing fellow only watches. you purse your lips, glancing from him. to the onslaught of rain, to finally the door. 

well. so much for staying outside. wordlessly, he pulls the door open for you and you oblige quietly, mumbling a small word of thanks as you pass him.

unsurprisingly, the shop is wholly vacant, save for him, the boy who follows you in, and another barista behind the counter, who leans against the table behind him with arms crossed. the radio is on but it’s turned down so low that it might as well be off.

it would be painful to loiter in this shop for an hour or so without buying anything, so begrudgingly, you pull out your wallet and pray to whatever higher deity up there that you won’t get hooked on their drinks and subsequently, their freakish prices. you’ve got a budget, for goodness sake. 

when you step to the counter, the barista that met you outside sets his broom aside to meet you on the other side. “what would you like?” he asks automatically, with the tilt of his head. you glance over the menu above his head despite knowing your answer deep inside your heart.

“taro milk tea, please,” you say, bringing your gaze back to him. a trickle of rainwater slides down the curve of his cheek and you have to tear your gaze away. “medium, with boba. and extra sugar too.”

“will that be it?”

“yes,” you reply with your eyes downcast, carefully deciding on whether to use cash or credit. maybe you can use some of your spare coins this time.

his gold name tag says “shoto,” and it gleams even in your peripheral vision as he nods and turns to the other barista with the spiky hair who stands a few ways’ away and glowers a bit. 

“katsuki,” says shoto. “one medium taro milk tea with--”

“yeah, yeah,” says the other barista snappishly. “i heard. i’m literally right here.” he pulls away from the table and exits to the back forcefully and you two watch him in relative silence. a guitar-heavy shawn mendes song plays in the background; played too softly for you to determine which one though.

shoto’s gaze swivels back to you, undisturbed by the attitude his coworker just presented and so you do your best to remain indifferent as well. it is similarly pure irony to have such a gentle cafe hosted by such personalities. 

“name?” he simply asks and you tell him, not bothering to question why that was still necessary if you were the only customer in the entire shop. 

and it is equally strange that after katsuki returns with your drink, about to hand it to you, shoto acts to intercepts with an extended hand to take the cup away.

“what are you doing?” says katsuki incredulously, drawing back.

shoto presents the sticker with the order printed on it in the air. “i need to put this on.”

“seriously? it’s not like you could hand it to the wrong person,” he mutters, but lets shoto tease it out of his hand before promptly returning to the kitchen again, letting the doors swing behind him. you refrain from smiling too wide as shoto carefully presses the sticker onto the cup behind the counter with an unexpectedly concentrated expression on his face.

when he utters your name to catch your attention, shoto slides your drink over to you, not letting go until your fingers accidentally brush over his. “here you go.”

“thank you,” you say brightly, shaking it for good measure. the ice clinks distract you momentarily from the noise of rain hitting concrete. the cream and purple taro swirl together brilliantly.

he nods, turning away to take a cleaning rag into his hands. shoto wipes at the counter meticulously, every once in a while swiping a smudge with his fingertips to evaluate his work. the quiet is only periodically punctured by the clap of thunder and when shawn mendes starts belting out the background adlibs via the radio.

“when do you think the rain will let up?” you muse absentmindedly, fingers drumming the raised counter as you push along your bubble tea and dig around the container for a straw of your favorite color. “not for long, i hope.”

shoto blinks, glancing up. “i heard it’ll last all through the night.”

steely dread pools at the bottom of your stomach. “no!” you gasp, confronting shoto. “really? i don’t have an umbrella or anything.” you didn’t hear anything of the sort, but then again, you haven’t checked the forecast since this morning. maybe you can wave down a cab or something. you let out a brief laugh of disbelief that rapidly devolves into a groan. “man. that stinks.”

he looks at you sympathetically, watching you deftly pierce the plastic seal top of your milk tea with more force than necessary. 

you bring the straw to your mouth, sipping quietly as you think of your next line of action. the richness is disturbingly good and you’re saddened to know that you’ll be returning in the future, rain or no rain. 

taking a seat in a metal chair, you finally give the shop a thorough glance over. with all the bright lights and pale wallpaper plastered with colorful stickers. above you, the ceiling vents buzz quietly. the whole shop is just--

“dazzling,” you murmur after several minutes, submitting to its glamour. “everything’s so pretty here.” the interior designer really went ham here and it shows. you fish your phone out of your slightly damp pocket and wipe at the screen with a sigh. you’d even take a photo if you could.

unbeknownst to you, shoto had left the counter upfront and is wiping down a table nearby as you speak. “thank you,” he says and you jolt, head snapping towards his direction. “we do our best to be presentable and comfortable.”

“full marks on both then,” you say breezily and a ghost of a smile teases at his lips before he walks away to the backroom. 

he’s amused. did he think you were funny? your ears start to warm up a little and you drain your milk tea faster. in any case, it’s best that you brave the storm sooner than later. 

there’s little doubt that the rain won’t be stopping any time soon and it would really be the icing on the cake if you not only got stuck in a thunderstorm but fell ill as well. you’ve realized, from all your years of life, that people don’t appreciate their functional nostrils until they get stuffed. 

and you don’t know how much time passes in that cafe with the absence of clocks and your phone, but after catching yourself glancing over at shoto for the fifth time, wondering if you can make him smile like that again, you finally think that enough is enough. your chewing speeds up. 

then you stand up, careful to not let the metal feet scrape the tiles. should you just book it, through the rain? or should you stand under the awning a little longer, hoping the rare cab will notice your helpless self and save you? as you mull these thoughts over, you toss the cup into the bin and wipe your hands with a spare napkin, getting rid of the condensation.

“wait.” 

shoto’s calm voice makes you whirl around yet again.

as he walks closer, you notice that he’s gripping something in his hand and you can only bring yourself to stare as he presents it to you.

“take it,” he says. “this is my umbrella.”

your heart stutters for a second. “huh? no, i couldn’t,” you say hastily, dismissing him with a wave. “that’s really kind of you though, thank you.”

“but you said you didn’t have one.”

you give him a quizzical look. “but if i take yours, then you don’t have one.”

“katsuki-- um, the other person who works here-- lives near me. we commute together sometimes. so please,” he says, gesturing the closed umbrella.  you wrap your fingers around the clear plastic gingerly to his coaxing. “take it.” 

tears nearly prick your eyes as you lean over to pat him on the arm graciously. he’s more alarmed than anything else as you do, silently wide-eyed, and is it only then that you notice his eyes are different colors. “thanks, shoto. i’ll be back tomorrow to return it then. i promise!”

he gives you a quick nod. “i don’t work tomorrow. i’ll be here all weekend though.” 

“alright, shoto. i’ll see you on the weekend.”

“stay safe.”

you’re already turning away and pushing open the door before you see the flicker of a smile pass over his visage again.

/

“you gave away your umbrella?” says katsuki after the cafe closes later that evening. his eyes narrow down at his fellow coworker sharply. “to a damn customer?”

“it’ll get returned,” assures shoto. his upper arm is warm where you had touched him, and his hand hovers over it for a second before he shrugs on his jacket.

“that’s not the point,” his coworker seethes, angrily hanging up his apron. “my car is two blocks over and i was relying on you to do your part in bringing the umbrella. idiot!”

ah.

/

you come back that sunny weekend, with shoto’s trusty transparent umbrella in hand... as well as the weekend after. and the weekend after that. sans the excuse of the umbrella, of course.

when it is katsuki that greets you at the counter, he does little to hide his disapproval of your order; grunting when you greet him with a cheerful “hi katsuki!” and grimacing each time when you smile and add, “with extra sugar!” to your order.

“you’re aware of how much sugar is already in this stuff, right?” he tells you. 

“i’m here for a good time, not a long time,” you reply. “and are you really supposed to be asking me that? as someone who works here?”

katsuki scoffs and wordlessly punches your order in anyway. his brew, however, is immaculate without fail so you don’t question his tactics.

but when it is shoto... he greets you warmly, stretching the conversation by asking about how you are and about your day.

“the regular?” he eventually asks after several weeks of you making the same order as the last. 

you smile. “the regular.”

sometimes, you loiter near the counter when it’s not busy. you learn, with some semblance of glee, that shoto is a student like yourself and he only works part-time-- the rainy afternoon you met him on had been a shift he was covering for someone else. other times all you can do is take your drink and wave him goodbye.

even on the extremely busy days where you cannot even find a vacant seat, there are brief seconds where you think of leaning against the wall and enjoying the atmosphere. it is a startling realization, how desperate you want to linger in his presence. 

your affection is making you ill. ugh, and being bloated is not a good look on you either.

drinking taro milk tea at competitor bubble tea shops don’t even sate you. it’s always too watery, too thin; the flavors rounding off as bitter, over brewed tea. but you drink them to wean yourself off. you should probably stop drinking them altogether though.

some time passes before you can find it in yourself to return. the storefront is as pretty as it always is whenever you pass it by on your commute.

“hey, how are you? have you been alright?” asks shoto right off the bat, dropping his washrag haphazardly beside the sink when you find yourself at the counter again after the weeks of hearty self-restraint.

his concern is so vivid it unnerves you. it’s a funny and ill-placed nervous look on his face, eyebrows pulled tense. “i’m fine,” you say, “how have you been?”

“i’m well,” shoto says. “and... that’s good. it’s been a while. i thought you might have started getting your milk tea fix from somewhere else.” he pauses. “have you?”

his sincerity makes you throw your head back and laugh, but your stomach gurgles at the recollection of drinking so many subpar taro milk teas. “never,” you tell him finally. “i like this place too much. and the people here too.”

“i see.” shoto’s smile is bright this time, eyes so soft even as he speaks. “the regular then?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your own gaze crinkling up. “you know me so well, shoto.”

/

“quit freakin’ flirting at the counter,” snaps katsuki, mopping the floor vigorously. “do that shit when you’re not at work, icy-hot. it’s disgusting that i have to stand here and listen to you two.”

shoto frowns. “it’s not flirting. we have to be kind to customers.” he calls from the kitchen.

“kindness is you giving extra napkins, not asking if they’ve been going to other bubble tea shops. as if.”

“we’re... just friends then.”

“just friends, my ass. what, you think that extra sugar ass sweet tooth loser came in every week alone just to get tea? you know what...” katsuki’s peeved grumbles trail off until they’re no longer comprehensible.

shoto just ponders on this as he drains the sink.

/

“here,” says katsuki one saturday afternoon. “take it. and go.” he pushes the purple drink into your hand and wipes his own hand on his apron. “extra sugar. don’t blame me when your teeth fall out.”

“damn,” you say, although you are hardly taken aback by his crudeness anymore. “but i will. i’ve got a lot to do today, so i can’t stay and chat. bye guys!”

“take care,” says shoto just as katsuki says, “don’t care, didn’t ask.”

(when you wave goodbye, however, you are pleased to see that they both reciprocate kindly.)

by the time you eventually take a sip, you’re already on your way to the rail to get to your favorite grocery store. today, it’s buy one get one free bags of potatoes so you know you’ll be stocking up this time.

mindlessly, you pierce the top with your straw, careful to aim for the center. you give it a stir before taking a sip, the familiar creaminess filling your mouth. 

although it’s... different, somehow. 

sweeter, you think. did katsuki actually overload it with sugar this time? seemed like a weird prank to pull. perhaps he was teaching you a lesson but considering that he hasn’t been fired yet indicates that this was an infrequent occurrence. hopefully. 

chewing the boba thoughtfully, you pull the cup away in order to squint at the dark text printed on the sticker. it’s the same as you always say it: a medium, iced, taro milk tea, with boba and 25% extra--

the word “sugar” is scrawled over with black ink, although not deliberately it seems. it’s just covered up with a slew of numbers and letters written unbelievably neat in spite of being on a cylindrical cup and you nearly hack up a black clump of sugary boba onto the concrete sidewalk. 

but nevertheless, you force it down to look at the order again, more closely this time.

they’re numbers, and your heart stutters in your chest at the realization there’s just enough to be a phone number; followed by a name that you only ever saw emblazoned on a gold name tag.

you want to commit the numbers to memory, but it’s undeniably hard to concentrate. not when shoto’s gentle smile is on the forefront of your brain and  when big, fat droplets of water are hitting your forehead with incredible force. 

you glance up at the swirling, ashen clouds above you, bloated and expecting. an uncomfortable feeling crawls up your spine at the realization that you’ve forgotten your umbrella at home today too. 

oh god. not again.

/

“i can’t believe you actually wrote your number on my cup today... very smooth, shoto.”

there’s a beat before shoto replies, his voice tinny and distant over the phone. “actually, i did that the first day you came in-- when it was raining. i figured you didn’t notice or you were rejecting me.”

“oh. so, wait-- you did it twice then? that day and today?”

“no,” says shoto. “just that day.”

“then who--” you stop yourself.

outside your window, a clap of thunder shakes the sky. and the epiphany that follows renders you both silent.

[letsnotdoanything]

Stray Kids reaction to their s/o playing with babies (1/2)

Hello!

This is a reaction requested by anon:

I changed it from ‘’babies’’ to ‘’children’’ but noticed it after I already wrote some of them. I hope it’s okay for you, if it’s not, let me know!

Also, I split it into two parts since it came out a little long, the second part should be posted soon.

Bang Chan

That day, one of the make-up artists that worked at Chan's company brought to work an unexpected guest - a four-year-old. She explained that her babysitter called in sick in the morning so there was no one to left her child, Eunji, with. The boys and her co-workers gathered immediately to greet them and give the little girl high-fives, which certainly pleased her and let her mom sigh with relief. You, who had been sitting on the corner sofa, approached them just when everyone else got back to their previous activities. You had met a few members of the staff and sometimes, like in that case, became friends with them. You talked for a short while until she asked you to look out for the girl because she had to get to work, which you happily agreed to do. You took Eunji’s hand and sat on the sofa again, placing her on your thighs and wrapping your arms gently around her tiny waist. You listened carefully as she was telling about her new friend in the kindergarten and that she earned two smiley-faced stickers for helping her friend search for a toy they had lost. While focusing on Eunji, you didn’t notice that Chan was staring at the two of you in the mirror with a smile almost reaching both of his ears. He couldn’t help but think: “she would be such a great mother.’’

Minho

Minho had promised you a date some time ago, but both of you were busy - him as an idol and you as a kindergarten teacher - so your schedules never seemed to match. That day, your boyfriend got a day off due to some of his group members’ sickness and offered to pick you up when you finish work. It was near 6pm and only a few children were left, so you arranged a game that all of you could play until their parents showed up. It was the color game, in which you have to toss a hacky sack to another person while saying a random color, but can’t catch it if it’s black. The game started when everyone was standing in a circle, the kids having fun and laughing at the new names they came up with, like '' Their happiness was so infectious that you couldn’t just keep a straight face while watching them. Then, one of the boys threw the ball a little too strong so it flew right next to you towards the entrance door. Before you could turn around to get it, the hacky sack somehow appeared in the circle again. The children let out a squeal, which startled you a bit, and ran to where the object came from. Your eyes followed them to their parents, who were standing in the entry with their arms outstretched. A smile you’d had on your features extended when you noticed that one of the people wasn’t a parent, but your boyfriend, Minho. You walked up to greet everyone and say goodbye to your charges, before turning to Minho and pressing a peck to his lips. He watched you put on the coat while leaning on the doorframe, a small beam decorating his face. It was the first time when he’d seen you at work and he was completely in love with that sight. Before, he wasn’t sure about having kids in the future, but he made up his mind right then and there - he wanted to be able to behold it every day if it was with you. You noticed his gaze when you tied the wool scarf around your neck, ready to head out. A few silent seconds passed on staring at each other as you waited for any words to leave his mouth. When your cheeks started getting hot and pink and you looked away, he let out a chuckle. ''Let's go, yeah?''

Felix

Since you’d gone to high school, you would go to the nearby hospital to volunteer. Seeing the kids’ faces light up after receiving a balloon or a stuffed plushie had always made you feel warm inside, even when you knew that you’d have to put an all-nighter later to catch up. That habit remained as you graduated and went to university, although it wasn’t as frequent as it used to be. On the first day of the winter break, you were excited to go to the hospital again. Also, you were excited because your boyfriend, Felix, decided to join you. He’d always wanted to go with you but he’d never had an opportunity to do so, until now. You went to every room, giving each child as much time as they needed. You had played games, talked with them and gave each a small gift, earning grins and hugs in reward. Felix loved the way your eyes shone when the kids laughed at your joke, how carefully you listened when they were telling you about their dream or how you purposely let them win at any game they wanted to play. His heart grew when he saw you with children and hoped to see you with your own one day.

Seungmin

It was a warm, spring day, that lightened up even more when Seungmin had invited you on a date. You had known each other from school but never really had had a proper conversation until he asked you out. Everything seemed like a movie - green leaves blowing in the wind, chirping birds, and the two of you walking down the park. You found yourself sucked in the talk when you felt something hit your ankle - a football. You looked around and noticed a group of young boys dressed in football stars’ t-shirts, who were waving in your direction. “Nuna, pass the ball!” A sly smirk appeared on your face as you started walking toward them at a slow pace, kicking the ball lightly so it was right in front of you. When you approached the kids and they tried to get the ball from you, you nimbly dodged them, earning a laugh from the shortest one. Seungmin observed with heart-shaped eyes as they tried again and again when you kept kicking the ball around, your wide smile shining brightly. He knew it wasn’t love yet, but after that day he was sure it was going to develop into something beautiful.

I.N

Jeongin loved kids, so it wasn’t a surprise that he offered help when you told him that you’ll be taking care of your little nephew for the next few days. Even though you didn’t ask for anything, he came over with a bag full of sweets and toys that his younger brother used to play with during his childhood. When the boy whined about his growling stomach, your friend eagerly stated that he would cook something for all of you. Jeongin headed towards the kitchen while you stayed with your nephew to keep him occupied until the food was done. You pulled some Hot Wheels cars out of Jeongin’s bag and set up a racetrack across the coffee table, glasses of orange juice determining the turns. Behind your back, your friend was leaning against the countertop and staring at the two of you, his heart skipping a few beats. He'd felt that you’re no longer only a friend to him for some time now, and now he was sure that he had indeed a crush on you.