#its traditional but its good enough i thought to put it here!

[crunchchute]

my attempt at a bunch of my fav artists styles :] idea by sootnuki!!

i would love to do more but this was already a huge challenge

if any artist here dislikes this/is uncomfortable with it/any reason i can take it down or turn off reblogs etc. otherwise i hope its ok 🫡 im not gonna tag anyone just gonna let it do its thing in the wild lol

[helen-with-an-a]

Halloween - Beautiful Girl series (18+)

Hiiiii - how is this the 2nd full length fic for Beautiful Girl? Anyways in honour of Halloween, here’s a (not-so-)little smutty fic for yall. Shout out to the anon who gave me the inspiration - I loved writing this. If anyone has any more ideas, please let me know.

Alexia Putellas x reader

Description: It's Halloween and Alexia forces herself to watch a scary movie with R, regardless of what R says.

Word Count: 9k

TW: Smut, 18+, cock warming, a nightmare

Beautiful Girl masterlist

Maybe watching a scary movie wasn’t the best idea after all. Or maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed. You weren’t so sure anymore. On one hand, you couldn’t deny that it pained you a little to see Alexia so scared, her usual confidence crumbling with every jump scare and every gruesome scene. But on the other hand, the way she reacted to the horror unfolding on the screen had you completely captivated. As the movie progressed, she had inched closer and closer to you – an impressive feat considering she started the movie with her head on your chest, your wrapped around each other. Her arms tightened around your waist each time something startled her – her grip being almost painful. The way she clung to you, seeking comfort and protection, stirred something deep within you.

Her scent was intoxicating; soft, warm coconut that filled your senses and made it hard to focus on anything else. You found yourself torn between wanting to reassure her and the thrill of having her so close. Every time the tension in the movie built, you could feel her body tense up against yours, her breath hitching in anticipation. And when the inevitable jump scare happened, she would let out a quiet whimper, the sound soft and vulnerable, before burying her face into your neck, seeking refuge from the terror on the screen. Her eyes would screw tightly shut, and you could feel her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

It was impossible to think about anything else. All you could focus on was the warmth of her body pressed against yours, the way her soft hair tickled your cheek, and the rhythm of her breaths as she tried to steady herself. You wanted to be her protector, to make her feel safe, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but enjoy the way she needed you in that moment. Maybe watching a scary movie wasn’t the best idea, but with Alexia so close, it was hard to think of a better one.

“Are you sure, beautiful? We don’t have to watch horror just because it’s Halloween,” you said, your voice laced with concern as you studied her expression. “There are plenty of spooky movies, or even just kid ones that we could put on instead,” you suggested, offering a safer alternative as you looked into her eyes. Despite the dim lighting in the room, you could see the determination in her gaze as she pressed the remote into your hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I am sure, mi amor,” she replied, her voice dripping with confidence, but you couldn’t help noticing the slight quiver in her tone that betrayed her nerves. You hesitated, unsure whether to trust her bravado. You knew Alexia well enough to know that horror movies were far from her favourite. In fact, she usually avoided them like the plague, preferring the comfort of romantic comedies or feel-good dramas. Horror had never been her thing, and you respected that. You never wanted to put her in a situation that would make her uncomfortable, especially when it came to something as trivial as a movie.

But there she was, insisting on watching one tonight. Halloween had its traditions, and perhaps she felt a certain pressure to partake in the spooky festivities. You, on the other hand, didn’t mind horror. It wasn’t your go-to genre by any means, but you could enjoy a good scare when the mood struck. Still, the thought of subjecting Alexia to something that might genuinely frighten her made you pause.

“Ale,” you began softly, trying to gauge her true feelings. “I know you don’t usually like horror movies. We really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. Halloween or not, I’m happy to watch whatever you want.”

She shook her head, her smile widening as she leaned in closer to you. “No, I want to try it,” she said, her voice steadying as if convincing herself as much as she was you. Her eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and uncertainty, a rare combination that made your heart flutter. “Besides,” she added, her lips curving into a teasing smile, “you’ll protect me, right?”

The way she looked at you in that moment, a mixture of vulnerability and trust, made your heart soften instantly. How could you ever say no to her? “Of course I will, my beautiful girl,” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. The promise felt as natural as breathing, a vow to keep her safe, even from the imaginary horrors that would soon flicker across the screen. You’d face a hundred nightmares if it meant she felt secure in your arms.

With a playful glint in her eye, she gently pushed your shoulders back, guiding you to recline against the cushions. The next thing you knew, she was climbing on top of you, settling herself comfortably against your chest. Her head found its usual resting spot over your heart, the rhythmic beat beneath her ear soothing her racing one.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, the warmth of her body pressed against yours grounding you in the moment. She let out a contented sigh, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your chest as she nestled in deeper, as if the very act of being so close to you was enough to chase away any lingering fears. You could feel her breath steadying, matching the calm rhythm of yours, and you knew that no matter what happened in the movie, she’d be safe and sound right here with you.

“See?” she whispered, her voice muffled slightly against your chest, “Already feeling braver.” Her words were laced with a gentle teasing, but there was also a sincerity behind them that touched you deeply. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, your lips brushing against her hair, breathing in that familiar coconut scent that always made you feel at home.

“Good,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur, “because I’ve got you, always.” She responded with a soft hum, a sound that was full of contentment and trust, vibrating gently against your chest. It was a sound that told you everything you needed to know, that in this moment, she felt safe with you, that she believed in your promise.

You let the silence linger for a moment, enjoying the closeness, the way her body moulded perfectly against yours. But as your hand hovered over the remote, a flicker of concern resurfaced in your mind. You couldn’t shake the urge to double-check, to make absolutely certain she was okay with what was coming next.

“You’re sure?” you asked gently, your thumb poised over the play button, ready but hesitant. You wanted her to have an out, a chance to change her mind before the movie started. You were more than willing to switch to something else, something that wouldn’t leave her on edge or make her uncomfortable.

“Sí, mi amor,” she replied, her voice steady and full of resolve, yet still carrying that softness that you loved so much. “I am sure.” Her words were firm, but there was also a warmth in them, a reassurance that she was ready.

You were barely 10 minutes into the movie when you felt her shift on top of you, her body tensing as the ominous music swelled on the screen. The shadows and flickering lights of the film created a sense of unease that even you, with your higher tolerance for horror, could feel creeping into the room. But it was Alexia’s reaction that caught your attention more than anything else. Without a word, she moved closer, almost instinctively, pressing her face into the curve of your neck, seeking comfort in your warmth.

Her breath was shaky, the soft exhale brushing against your skin as she tried to steady herself, but you could tell the movie was starting to get to her. The way her fingers gripped your arm just a little tighter, the way her body seemed to curl into yours for protection – it all signalled that the horror on screen was pushing her limits. Your heart ached at the thought of her enduring something that made her this uncomfortable, even if she was doing it out of sheer determination.

“Ale, baby,” you began softly, your voice gentle as you tilted your head slightly to speak into her hair. “We don’t have to watch this.” You were ready to reach for the remote, ready to switch to something light and fun, something that would bring back the ease and laughter you loved sharing with her. But before you could move, she tightened her hold on you, her head still nestled firmly against your neck.

“No, no, I am fine, mi amor,” she insisted, her voice a bit muffled but still carrying that stubborn edge you had come to know so well. There was a hint of resolve in her words, a determination to prove to herself – and maybe to you – that she could handle this. But the tremor in her voice didn’t escape your notice, and you couldn’t help but worry that she was pushing herself too far.

“Ale –” you murmured again, this time with a little more concern, hoping to persuade her to take a step back, to remember that there was no need to be a hero tonight. You wanted her to enjoy this, not endure it, and the last thing you wanted was for her to suffer through something she didn’t have to.

But before you could say more, she cut you off, her tone light but firm. “Shush, I am watching the film,” she said, her words almost playful, though you could hear the underlying tension. Her stubbornness was both endearing and exasperating, and you couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, half in amusement, half in resignation.

You knew when Alexia set her mind to something, it was nearly impossible to sway her. It was one of the things you loved about her – her fierce determination and strong will – but right now, all you wanted was to pull her out of this self-imposed challenge and back into the safety of something she enjoyed. But as you felt her burrow deeper into your embrace, you realised that maybe, just maybe, this was her way of facing her fears, and she wanted to do it while feeling the reassurance of your presence.

So, you sighed softly, letting your concern ebb away just a little, though you remained vigilant, ready to call it quits the moment she gave you any real sign that it was too much. You tightened your arms around her, pulling her just a little closer, as if to shield her from whatever horror the screen might throw at her next. If she wanted to face this challenge, you’d be right there with her, her protector in every sense of the word.

You were about 20 minutes from the end of the film, and the tension in the room was nearly unbearable. Each passing minute seemed to heighten the anxiety, not just on the screen but in the very air around you. You could feel it in the way Alexia clung to you, her body pressed so tightly against yours that it was as if she was trying to merge into you, seeking refuge from the horrors unfolding before her eyes. The soft tremors in her body had grown more pronounced, her every breath a shaky struggle to maintain control.

It wasn’t just the way she held onto you that gave her away; it was the way her breath hitched, the way her chest stuttered with each sharp inhale. You could sense the tears welling up, threatening to spill over, and it broke your heart to see her like this. She was trying so hard to keep it together, to convince herself – and you – that she was fine, but it was clear that she was on the verge of breaking down.

“Baby, please,” you urged softly, your voice filled with concern as you turned your attention away from the screen and fully focused on her. “Let’s just turn it off. C’mon, you’re terrified.” You reached for the remote, ready to end this ordeal and bring her some relief. You couldn’t stand the thought of her enduring this any longer, especially when there was no need for it.

But before you could press the button, she shook her head, her voice trembling as she tried to brush off your concerns. “N-no, I’m not,” she insisted, though the quiver in her tone betrayed her. “Everything is fine, mi amor. Just watch your film.” There was a desperate edge to her words, as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

Your heart twisted at her stubbornness, knowing full well that she was anything but fine. Her pride and determination were admirable, but they were also keeping her trapped in a situation that was clearly too much for her to handle. You wanted to respect her wishes, but you couldn’t ignore the signs – the way her body trembled, the way she seemed to shrink into herself with every new jump scare, every disturbing scene.

“Ale,” you began again, your voice firmer this time as you tried to reason with her. “There’s no point in torturing y – ”

“I am fine, mi amor.” She snapped before you could finish, her words sharp and defensive, cutting through the air between you. Her tone was laced with a mix of frustration and desperation, as if she was clinging to the last shreds of her resolve. She pulled away from you just enough to look up, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears, her expression one of fierce determination. But beneath that determination, you could see the fear, the anxiety that was eating away at her composure.

Her response left you momentarily stunned, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted so badly to be strong for you, to prove that she could handle this, but it was clear that she was reaching her breaking point. You knew her well enough to understand that this wasn’t just about the movie anymore – it was about her pride, about not wanting to seem weak or vulnerable in front of you.

But you didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was her well-being, and you couldn’t stand the thought of her suffering through this just to prove something that didn’t need proving.

You softened your gaze, your expression full of understanding and compassion. Gently, you reached out and cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Ale, you don’t have to do this,” you said softly, your voice filled with tenderness. “I don’t care about the movie – I care about you. There’s nothing to prove here, beautiful. I’d much rather stop this and see you smile than watch you force yourself through something that’s hurting you.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those wide, tear-filled eyes. The tension between you seemed to hang in the air, thick and heavy, until finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She let out a shaky breath, her stubborn resolve crumbling as she leaned back into you, her head resting against your chest once more.

“I just… I didn’t want to ruin it for you,” she whispered, her voice small and full of the vulnerability she had been trying so hard to hide.

You held her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, your heart aching for her. “You could never ruin anything for me, Ale,” you assured her, your voice gentle but firm. “Your comfort and happiness mean more to me than any movie ever could. Let’s turn this off and do something that makes you feel good, okay?”

She nodded against you, her grip on your shirt loosening slightly as she allowed herself to relax, to let go of the pressure she had been putting on herself. With a relieved sigh, you grabbed the remote and finally turned off the movie, the silence that followed almost immediately easing the tension in the room.

“Can… can we have a shower and just go to bed?” Her voice was small, almost fragile, as she lifted her head from your chest, her eyes still glistening with the remnants of tears. The earlier determination had given way to exhaustion, and all she wanted now was the comfort of something familiar, something soothing to wash away the tension that had built up throughout the evening. Her request was simple, but the vulnerability in her tone made it feel like so much more – a plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the safety that only you could provide.

“Of course we can,” you responded immediately, your voice tender as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. You wanted to make sure she felt completely at ease, so you added gently, “Do you want me to shower with you, just be in the room, or do you want to be alone?” You didn’t want to assume anything, knowing that right now, she needed to feel in control, to have things go exactly the way she wanted.

But before you could even finish asking, she was already nodding, her eyes earnest and pleading as she whispered, “Together.” The word came out almost like a sigh of relief, and you could see how much she needed your presence, how much she craved the closeness and the comfort that only your touch could bring.

“Okay, together it is,” you said softly, giving her a reassuring smile. You rose from the couch, helping her to her feet, and you couldn’t help but notice how drained she seemed, the tension of the evening still lingering in the way she moved. As you guided her towards the bathroom, you asked another gentle question, knowing how much she loved your care in these moments. “Hair wash or not?”

She looked up at you, her eyes softening as she considered the offer. The thought of your hands in her hair, massaging away the stress of the night, clearly appealed to her. “Wash, por favor?” she replied, her voice quiet but hopeful. There was something so endearing in the way she asked, as if she knew how much you loved pampering her and was giving you the opportunity to do just that.

“Anything for you,” you murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. The simple act of caring for her, of helping her wash away the remnants of the night’s fears, filled you with a sense of purpose and love.

Together, you made your way to the bathroom, the anticipation of the warm, soothing shower already beginning to calm the both of you. As the water started to stream from the showerhead, you helped her out of her clothes, your touch gentle and loving, careful to make her feel cherished. She stepped into the shower first, the warm water cascading over her, and you followed close behind, wrapping your arms around her from behind as the steam enveloped you both.

She let out a small, content sigh as the water washed over her, and you could feel some of the tension start to melt away from her body. You reached for the shampoo, lathering it in your hands before gently massaging it into her hair, your fingers working through the strands with care. She leaned back into you, her eyes closed as she allowed herself to fully relax, the sensation of your hands in her hair bringing her the comfort she had been craving.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the water. But you heard her, and the gratitude in her tone made your heart swell.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” you replied, your voice just as soft. “I love taking care of you.”

You continued to wash her hair with slow, gentle movements, making sure to ease out every last bit of tension. It wasn’t just about the physical act of washing away the stress; it was about being there for her, supporting her, and reminding her that she was never alone, no matter what.

Once her hair was thoroughly rinsed, you turned her gently in your arms so she could face you. The steam curled around you both, creating a little cocoon of warmth and intimacy. You reached up to brush a few droplets of water from her cheeks, your touch tender as you looked into her eyes.

“Feel better?” you asked softly, your voice filled with love and concern.

She nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Much better,” she whispered, her eyes shining with appreciation. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her, a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love and care you felt for her. The warmth of the shower, the closeness of your bodies, and the gentle exchange of affection all combined to create a moment of pure peace, a sanctuary from the fears that had haunted the night.

When the shower was finally over, you helped her dry off and wrapped her in a soft towel, taking extra care to ensure she felt warm and secure. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her body seemed to lean into yours for support, and you knew it was time to get her to bed.

You led her to the bedroom, helping her into a clean, comfortable pyjama top. She sank into the bed with a sigh of relief, her body finally able to fully relax. You slipped in beside her, pulling the covers over you both as you wrapped her in your arms once more.

As she nestled against your chest, her head resting in her favourite spot, you could feel the last of the tension slip away, replaced by a deep, contented calm. The horrors of the movie, the fear and anxiety – it all faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of your shared closeness.

“Goodnight, my beautiful girl,” you whispered, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as she drifted off to sleep.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” she murmured back, her voice already drowsy, filled with the comfort and security she felt in your arms. And as you lay there, holding her close, you knew that this – this simple, intimate moment – was all that really mattered.

It was 5 a.m. when you awoke, the quiet stillness of the night broken only by the soft rustling of the sheets. The room was dark, with only the faintest sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bed. At first, you were disoriented, unsure of what had pulled you from sleep. But then you felt it – the way the mattress shifted beside you, the way the blankets tugged slightly as if caught in a struggle.

You turned your head, your heart quickening as you realised it was Alexia. She was lying next to you, but something was wrong. Her body was twitching, her limbs jerking in restless, erratic movements that seemed almost out of her control. It was as if she were trying to escape something, her legs kicking out and her hands grasping at the sheets, searching for something to hold on to.

Your concern deepened as you heard her soft whimpers, barely audible but full of distress. “Por favor, no,” she murmured, her voice trembling with fear. The words were slurred, muffled by sleep, but the desperation in them was unmistakable. “Para, por favor,” she pleaded, her breath hitching as if she were trying to catch it between sobs that hadn’t yet escaped. “No me hagas… No puedo…”

Your heart broke at the sound of her voice, so full of helplessness and fear. It was clear she was caught in the grip of a nightmare, reliving something that was causing her immense pain. You reached out, your hand hovering just above her, unsure whether to wake her or not. You wanted to pull her out of whatever dark place her mind had taken her, to reassure her that she was safe, but you also knew that waking someone from a nightmare could sometimes be disorienting, even frightening.

“Mi amor,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking as if she were on the verge of tears. “Ayudar…” The last word was a desperate plea for help, and you could feel your own heart ache in response. There was no more hesitation – you couldn’t let her suffer through this alone, not when you were right there beside her.

Gently, you placed your hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze as you called her name. “Ale,” you whispered, your voice calm and soothing, trying to bring her back to the present, back to you. “Beautiful, wake up. It’s just a dream. I’m here, you’re safe.”

At first, she didn’t respond, her body still caught in the throes of the nightmare, her breathing fast and shallow. You squeezed her shoulder a little more firmly, your thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting gesture. “Ale, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Wake up, baby.”

Slowly, her movements began to still, the jerking of her limbs easing as your voice started to reach her. Her eyes fluttered open, but they were wide and unfocused, as if she were still caught between the nightmare and reality. She blinked rapidly, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she tried to orient herself.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmured, sliding your hand down to gently cup her cheek, guiding her gaze to meet yours. “It was just a bad dream. You’re safe now. I’m right here.”

She looked at you, her eyes slowly beginning to clear as she registered your words, your presence. A shuddering breath escaped her as the realisation hit, and she let out a soft sob, her body collapsing against yours as if all the strength had drained out of her. You wrapped your arms around her immediately, pulling her close, cradling her trembling form against your chest.

“It’s okay, Ale,” you whispered, your voice full of reassurance as you stroked her back, trying to soothe the fear that still lingered in her. “You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She buried her face in your chest, her hands clutching at your shirt as if afraid to let go. You could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through the fabric, and it only made you hold her tighter, as if your embrace could shield her from whatever horrors had haunted her sleep.

“Lo siento,” she choked out, her voice muffled and raw with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t apologise,” you replied gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just glad I was here to wake you up.”

For a while, the two of you simply lay there, her body gradually relaxing in your arms as the terror of the nightmare faded. You continued to whisper soothing words, your hands moving in slow, comforting circles on her back, until her breathing finally steadied, the tension in her muscles releasing as she melted into you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, knowing that sometimes sharing the fear could help it lose its power.

She shook her head slightly, her voice still trembling as she replied, “No… I just want to forget it.”

She looked up at you with those big, hazel eyes, the ones that had a way of speaking directly to your heart, conveying emotions that words could never fully capture. In those eyes, you saw a mixture of vulnerability and longing, a silent plea that reached out to you with an intensity that made your breath catch.  They told you everything you needed to know.

“Please, mi amor,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of a tender desperation that tugged at your heartstrings. Her lips were slightly parted, still a little swollen from the way she had been biting them in her sleep, the remnants of fear lingering in the way they trembled ever so slightly. Her cheeks were flushed, a soft, rosy hue that had nothing to do with the nightmare that had shaken her awake and everything to do with the way she was looking at you now – with a mixture of need and trust, a desire to be comforted and held, to be taken away from the remnants of the dark dream that still clung to her.

“Make me forget it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath, yet filled with a yearning. It wasn’t just the nightmare she wanted to forget; it was the vulnerability it had exposed, the fear that had left her feeling raw and exposed.

You could feel your heart swell with a protective tenderness as you gazed down at her, taking in the sight of her beautiful face framed by the tousled strands of hair that had escaped during her restless sleep. Her cheeks, flushed with a soft pink, were warm under your touch as you gently cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs tracing light, soothing circles against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, leaning into your touch, seeking the solace she knew only you could provide.

“How, my beautiful girl? What do you need from me?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur as you gazed down at her. The warmth in your tone was matched by the tenderness in your eyes, a look that was full of love and patience. You wanted to give her everything she needed, to be exactly what she was asking for, but you needed her to tell you, to be open about her desires. It was something you had been working on together, trying to get her to express herself more freely, to not be afraid of telling you what she truly wanted.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking away from yours as if searching for the right words. You could see the conflict in her expression, the way she bit her lip in thought, her cheeks flushing slightly with a mix of shyness and anticipation. The sight was endearing, and it only made you more determined to coax her into speaking her mind, to assure her that there was nothing she couldn’t ask of you.

“You,” she finally whispered, her voice quiet but filled with a longing that resonated deep within you. “I just need you.”

Your heart swelled at her words, the simplicity of them carrying so much weight, so much emotion. It wasn’t just about physical desire; it was about the connection between you, the way she trusted you, needed you in a way that went beyond mere words. But even though you were more than willing to give her everything she wanted, you knew this was an important moment for her to take that extra step, to be specific about what she truly craved.

“And you have me,” you vowed, your voice steady and full of reassurance as you reached out to take her hand. You held it tightly, giving her a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that you were there, that you would always be there for her. But you knew she needed to go further, to put into words the desires that she had kept hidden, the ones that she was still learning to voice. “But I need specifics, beautiful. I need you to tell me exactly what you want.”

She hesitated again, her fingers tightening around yours as she gathered the courage to speak. You could see the internal battle she was waging, the way her mind was working to overcome the last remnants of hesitation, the lingering fear of being too forward, too demanding. But you waited patiently, giving her the space she needed, knowing that this moment was crucial for her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, she looked up at you, her hazel eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, something raw and unfiltered, and it made your heart race in anticipation of what she was about to say.

“Your cock,” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried a weight that made them impossible to ignore. “I want to sit on your cock.”

The directness of her words sent a jolt of desire through you, but more than that, you felt a surge of pride and affection. She had said it – she had opened up to you, voiced her desire without holding back, and that was a victory in itself. You could see the blush spreading across her cheeks, her eyes searching yours for a reaction, for reassurance that she hadn’t overstepped, that she hadn’t done something wrong.

You gave her hand another squeeze, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles as you leaned in closer, your voice low and full of promise. “And you will,” you murmured, your gaze locking with hers, letting her see the desire, the love, the unwavering commitment in your eyes. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want, my beautiful girl. I’m going to take care of you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, her lips parting in anticipation as she realised you meant every word. You could feel the tension between you, the electricity that sparked in the air as you brought your free hand to her cheek, cupping it gently as you leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of lips that quickly deepened as she responded, her body pressing closer to yours as if seeking the warmth and comfort only you could provide.

You could feel the heat building between you, the way her body instinctively moved closer, seeking out your touch, craving the connection you shared. But you didn’t rush, didn’t push her – this was about her, about giving her the time and space to fully embrace her desires, to feel comfortable in expressing them.

When you finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-lidded with desire as she looked up at you, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss. You could see the anticipation in her gaze, the way she was waiting for you to make the next move, to take the lead in this dance of intimacy.

“Go get the strap for me,” you said, your voice steady and filled with a mix of authority and encouragement. And choose either the purple one or the dark red one – they should be in the top drawer. When you’ve picked it, take off your knickers and leave them in the basket, then come back.” Your instructions were clear, but they were also laced with an invitation, a chance for her to make a choice that would tailor the experience to her preference.

She nodded, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of eagerness and curiosity. There was a certain glint in her gaze, a spark of excitement that indicated she was ready to embrace what was coming next. You watched as she moved with a purposeful grace, her steps filled with a quiet determination.

As she approached the drawer, her fingers traced along the smooth surface before she pulled it open. The top drawer was organised with precision, and there they were – the two dildos you had mentioned, each one carefully arranged. The purple one was vibrant and rich, its hue deep and alluring, while the dark red was more subdued but equally enticing, its colour reminiscent of a deep, passionate embrace.

She took a moment to consider her options, her fingers hovering over the straps as she made her decision. It was a small but significant choice, one that would add a personal touch to the experience you were about to share. The act of choosing held its own weight, a way for her to assert her preferences, to have a say in how the moment would unfold. The purple one was bigger – she would definitely feel the painful sting more in the morning. But the red one was curved slightly – the angle pressing against all the right spots.

After a few moments, she selected the strap that resonated most with her in that moment. Purple – she would need the reminder in the morning. Her choice was deliberate, and as she held it in her hands, you could see the satisfaction in her expression, a sense of anticipation for what was to come. She hurried to slip off her underwear, throwing them in the wash before she turned back to you, the strap in hand, her gaze confident and ready.

With a gentle, encouraging smile, you extended your hand toward her, taking the strap from her with a sense of reverence. “Mi hermosa niña perfecta, listening so well,” you murmured, your voice soft but filled with admiration. You took the strap carefully, admiring the way it felt in your hands, the texture and weight of it, and how it would fit into her just so.

It took a few moments, but eventually, you were settled back against the pillows, the room bathed in a soft, ambient light that cast gentle shadows across the bed. The black harness was securely wrapped around your waist, its sturdy material hugging your body comfortably, creating a sense of anticipation and readiness. The straps of the harness had been adjusted with care, ensuring a snug yet comfortable fit that allowed you to move freely, without any distraction from the sensation of the harness itself.

The purple dildo, now firmly attached to the harness, hung to one side, its vibrant colour contrasting with the dark fabric of the harness. It swayed slightly with your movements, the smooth, polished surface catching the dim light in a way that made it look almost ethereal.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice a low, inviting rumble that seemed to resonate through the soft, dimly lit room. The ambiance was intimate and charged, the light casting gentle, warm hues that danced across the bed and accentuated the tenderness of the moment.

As you spoke, she moved to straddle you with a mixture of eagerness and nervous anticipation. Her hands reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the plastic. Her movements were fluid, a testament to how much she wanted … needed … this

You gently interjected; your tone soft but firm. “Not yet.” The words were a tender reminder, a way to guide her without diminishing the intensity of the moment. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it’s the bigger one, beautiful.” You added, a teasing note in your voice that hinted at both admiration and playfulness. Your eyes locked with hers, your gaze steady and full of affection.

The playful tease was meant to break any lingering tension, to remind her that this was a shared experience, one filled with mutual desire and understanding. Her reaction was immediate, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as a shy smile played at the corners of her lips. The warmth of her blush was a contrast to the coolness of the plastic, adding an extra layer of intimacy to the moment.

“Just sit on my lap, yeh?” you continued, your voice gentle and reassuring. “I want to kiss you for a bit.” Your words were an invitation, a way to create a space where you could both indulge in the closeness and affection that had brought you together.

As you spoke, you could see the effect your words had on her. The initial shyness in her expression gave way to a more open, trusting look, her eyes reflecting both her anticipation and her desire to be close to you. The promise of a kiss, combined with the gentle teasing, had a way of making her blush even more furiously, her entire demeanour radiating both excitement and tenderness.

You readjusted yourself comfortably against the pillows, your posture open and inviting, as you guided her to sit on your lap. The arrangement was intimate, placing her in a position where she could feel your heartbeat, where every breath she took would be felt against your chest. As she complied, her body pressed close to yours, you took a moment to savour the closeness, to feel the warmth and softness of her against you.

With a tender touch, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. The contact was intimate and reassuring, a way to show her how much you cherished these moments of connection. “My beautiful girl,” you sighed softly, smiling at the way her chest puffed up just a little.

You leaned in slowly, each movement deliberate and filled with intention. Your lips found hers in a kiss that was both soft and lingering, a gentle exploration that spoke of the deep affection and desire that had been simmering between you. The kiss began with a tender touch, a feather-light brush that seemed to hover for a moment before deepening.

As your lips connected, you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with yours, the sweet, intimate sensation of her closeness. The kiss was more than just a physical act; it was a silent conversation, a way to express the emotions that words could barely capture. It was slow and deliberate, a careful dance of lips and breath that conveyed the depth of your feelings.

She responded eagerly, her lips moving against yours with a sense of urgency that matched the intensity of the moment. Her passion was palpable, and it only served to heighten the connection you shared. Her tongue slipped into your mouth with a bold, enthusiastic push, its warmth and softness adding a new layer to the kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire that sent a thrill through both of you.

The kiss deepened as she explored your mouth with a growing intensity, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that was both playful and possessive. The connection between you was tangible, each touch and movement an expression of the desire that had been building. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself responding with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to cradle her face as you matched her kiss for kiss.

The rhythm of the kiss became a symphony of sensation, a blend of soft caresses and passionate embraces. The initial tenderness gave way to a more urgent, fervent exploration, as if both of you were trying to savour every moment, to make the kiss last as long as possible. Your breaths came in shared gasps, the air between you thick with the heat of your desire.

In the midst of the kiss, you could feel the rhythm of her heart against your chest, the way her body pressed closer, seeking out the intimacy and connection that only this shared moment could provide. The kiss was a bridge between your souls, a way to communicate the depth of your feelings without the need for words.

As you continued to kiss, the world outside seemed to dissolve into insignificance, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and passion. The external noise and distractions faded into a distant hum, barely registering against the backdrop of your shared intimacy. It was as if time had slowed down, allowing you both to savour each moment of the kiss without interruption or concern.

Kissing Alexia was, without a doubt, one of your favourite activities. Each kiss was a revelation, a tender exploration of the deep connection that existed between you. The way she tasted was intoxicating, a delicate blend of sweetness and warmth that lingered on your lips long after the kiss had ended. Her unique flavour was a subtle reminder of her essence, a taste of the intimacy you shared.

The way she sighed happily against you was equally enchanting. Her contented murmurs were a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing, the soft sounds of her satisfaction resonating through your shared embrace. Each sigh was like a gentle caress, a sign that she was fully immersed in the moment, enjoying every second of the closeness and affection.

The warmth of her body was another cherished aspect of your kisses. As she pressed against you, you could feel the heat radiating from her, a comforting sensation that made you feel incredibly connected and alive. Her body seemed to mould perfectly against yours, creating a harmonious blend of warmth and tenderness that was both soothing and exhilarating.

In those moments, everything else ceased to matter. The kiss was a world unto itself, a space where you could both be completely present, free from the worries and pressures of everyday life. The connection between you was palpable, a silent communication of love and desire that transcended words.

When you finally pulled back, it was with a reluctant but satisfied sigh, the kiss having fulfilled its promise of deep connection and mutual desire. You looked into her eyes, which were still filled with the same fervent emotion, the same longing that had driven the kiss. Your lips were tingling from the intensity, and the taste of her lingered, a sweet reminder of the passion you had just shared.

“Por favor, mi amor,” Alexia begged, her voice trembling with a mixture of desire and desperation. “Can I sit on your cock now?” The words came out as a soft, pleading whine, tinged with a hint of impatience. Her tone was both sweet and needy, a clear indication of how deeply she wanted to move forward.

You chuckled softly, the sound a low, intimate rumble that vibrated with affection and amusement. The tender laughter was a response to the intensity of her request, a way to acknowledge her eagerness while enjoying the moment. Your fingers moved with a practiced grace, sliding gently down her body to trace a delicate path through her folds.

As your fingers made contact, you could immediately feel the wetness that had gathered there. She was soaked, her arousal evident in the slick, heated sensation against your touch. It was a reminder of how responsive she was to your kisses, how a simple moment of intimacy could leave her dripping with desire. With Alexia, this was always the case – more than a minute of kissing and she would be positively drenched, her body reacting eagerly to the feel of your lips on hers.

“You’re soaked, beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. “Is this all for me?” you asked, your words imbued with a mixture of awe and affection.

“Sí, sí. Todo para ti, sólo para ti,” she replied breathlessly, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. Her response was fervent, her eyes shimmering with both longing and vulnerability. As she spoke, her blonde hair tumbled forward, cascading around her face like a curtain. The golden strands fell gently in front of you, effectively blocking out the outside world and creating an intimate cocoon where only the two of you existed.

“Well, I am honored, baby,” you said with a sincere smile. Your words were a tender acknowledgment of her eagerness, a way to express just how much her readiness meant to you. Her reaction was immediate; she sighed happily, a soft, content sound that resonated with the warmth of your words.

“Be a good girl for me, Ale,” you continued gently, your tone both commanding and tender. “Sit on my cock. Go carefully.” The instructions were clear but spoken with a careful consideration, a reminder of your attentiveness to her needs and desires. “I know you want to feel the stretch,” you added, a hint of understanding in your voice. “But I don’t want you hurting yourself.” The concern in your words was genuine, reflecting your deep care for her well-being and your desire to ensure that her experience was both pleasurable and safe.

Alexia was always amazed at how well you seemed to know her. The way you could often anticipate her desires before she fully articulated them was a constant source of wonder for her. Your understanding of her needs, coupled with your ability to express those needs with such precision, made her feel deeply connected to you. It was as though you had an intuitive grasp of her wants and boundaries, an ability to make every moment together feel profoundly satisfying.

Reaching down, she carefully lined herself up, slowly inching her way onto the dildo. It burned in the best way – the subtle pain and waves of pleasure easing Alexia’s mind in a way that only this could bring. When she was with you, she was weightless – all of her needs were taken care of, she didn’t need to think or do, she could just be … just be Ale, your beautiful girl.

She felt your thumb descend softly onto her clit; the touch delicate yet deliberate. The sensation of your skin brushing against her sensitive flesh was electric, sending a shiver through her body. You began to rub in slow, purposeful circles, each motion carefully calibrated to enhance her pleasure without overwhelming her. The rhythmic pressure of your thumb against her clit caused her breath to hitch sharply as she bottomed out.

The way you touched her was a tender mixture of affection and desire, a gentle exploration that was as much about connection as it was about physical pleasure. The slow circles you traced were hypnotic, creating a soothing yet stimulating rhythm that made her body respond with increasing eagerness. Her breath came in soft, uneven gasps, each hitch a testament to the growing pleasure coursing through her.

“You’re so pretty, Ale,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with admiration and warmth. The compliment was a loving acknowledgment of her beauty and the way she responded to your touch. Your words were a balm to her heightened emotions, a way to make her feel cherished and adored in this intimate moment.

“And you listened so well,” you continued, the praise flowing naturally from your lips. Your words were not just about her physical response but also about her attentiveness to your desires and instructions. It was a recognition of how well she had followed your lead, how perfectly she had aligned with the intimate dance you were sharing.

“Such a beautiful girl for me,” you added, the final touch of your praise imbued with deep affection.

Alexia sighed deeply, the sound a mixture of contentment and relief as she leaned forward to rest her face against your neck. The warmth of her breath and the softness of her skin felt incredibly comforting, a tangible reminder of the closeness you shared. Her body relaxed against yours, the fear from her nightmare long gone.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, your heart swelling with affection. Gently, you pressed a tender kiss to the side of her head, your lips brushing softly against her hair.

With one hand, you held her waist steadily, you fingers splayed and grip firmer to keep her grounded. With the other, you let your fingers trail delicately under the edge of her top, the touch light and exploratory. The sensation of your fingertips against her skin was soothing, creating a gentle, comforting rhythm that matched the intimate atmosphere. You traced soft patterns across her back and sides, each movement purposeful and filled with affection. Your touch was a tactile expression of your love, a way to convey the depth of your feelings without words.

Occasionally, your fingers spelled out small, loving messages against her skin. You wrote your name and hers in flowing cursive, a private reminder of the personal connection you shared. The letters were delicate, each one a testament to your appreciation for her and the uniqueness of your relationship.

In addition to names, you inscribed the words "I love you" in various languages you knew, each phrase a reflection of the global nature of your affection. From the simple “I love you” in English to the tender “Te amo” in Spanish, and “Je t’aime” in French, you created a mosaic of expressions that spanned cultures and languages. Each phrase was written with care, the letters forming a silent but powerful testament to the breadth and depth of your emotions.

The tactile sensations, combined with the loving words, created a moment of profound connection. Alexia’s contented sighs and relaxed demeanour were a testament to the comfort and love she felt in your presence. The physical touch, the affectionate words, and the gentle exploration all combined to form a rich tapestry of intimacy that made the moment feel incredibly special and deeply meaningful.

As you continued to trace patterns and write loving messages on her skin, the room seemed to grow even quieter, the outside world fading into the background. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment of pure, unspoken connection that spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings for each other. Each touch and word was a celebration of your bond, a way to make Alexia feel cherished and adored in the most intimate and heartfelt way.

“Close your eyes, my beautiful girl. I’ll be here for you in the morning.” You whispered, letting your words wash over Alexia as she slowly slipped back into sleep’s embrace.

“T’estimo,” she mumbled.

“I love you,” you replied.

[joeybsversion]

Mine

Joe Burrow x Reader

One of Joes friends flirts with you

Joe walks into the bathroom, shirtless, and in a pair of black slacks. His muscles ripple across his abdomen, dipping down towards the top of his pants.

He holds up two button down shirts by the hanger. “White or blue?”

“Did you come in here just to show off your body?” You tease making eye contact with him in the mirror as you put on your lipstick.

A smirk crosses his face as his eyes gleam with pride. That’s exactly what he did. “I need your advice. White or blue?”

“White. I like you in the traditional black and white suit.” You smile.

“Blue it is.” He teases and flashes you a wink as he heads out of the bathroom.

You roll your eyes and continue to get ready. Tonight was the NFL Honors party. A ton of players from all different teams across the country would be gathering for the annual awards show to honor the seasons best players. Joe was up for a few awards, you expected he’d win at least one.

He’s comes back into the hotel bathroom a few minutes later looking sexier than ever. You wondered if he had any idea how hot he was.

“How’s it look?” He questioned, looking himself up and down and the mirror.

“Incredible.” You can’t take your eyes off of him. “Can you help me into my dress?” You ask, slipping off your robe and stepping into your long gown.

“You look stunning, baby.” He presses his lips to the back of your neck as he zips the dress.

You and Joe made your way to the party and spent the first hour talking with other players and Wags. There were only a handful of other players from the Bengals, so you took the chance to meet some of Joes competitors.

As Joe wandered off to chat with other players, you took the opportunity to sneak out to the bathroom. As you turned the corner to the quiet hallways, you run into a familiar face. As the only 2 Quarterbacks here tonight, Joe and Patrick Mahomes would be giving a speech together. You’d met Patrick a handful of times before at similar events. You always thought he was handsome, but unlike Joe, he was quite cocky.

“Hey Patrick.” You smiled and the quarterback reached out to embrace you in a hug.

“Hey Mrs. Burrow.” He greeted you. “Good to see you!” As you pulled away from the hug Patrick’s hand lingered over yours.

“Not Mrs. Burrow quite yet.” You laughed, flashing your engagement ring on the other hand. “Good to see you too! Is Brittney here?” You asked.

“No she couldn’t make it. Lots going at home with the kids.” He took a step closer to you, if that was even possible. His hand left yours and found its way to your hip. His fingers lightly danced across your hip bone. “You look beautiful.” He is close enough now that his breath coats your lips. “Joe wouldn’t mind if we caught up for a bit, would he?”

“Has anyone ever been able to tell you no before?” You ask in a whisper.

“Never.”

“Well I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

His forehead crumpled as his face fell into a frown and he blinked down at you. “What?” His hand slips from your hip.

“Enjoy your night.” Your turn to make your way back to the party. As you scan the room your eyes immediately lock with Joes who has just witnessed this whole incident.

He storms over to you and nearly ran over Patrick on his way. Up until this moment, Patrick had been one of Joe’s idols, but he wanted to gouge his eyes at for looking at you like that. Like you could possibly be his when you so clearly belonged to Joe. Hadn’t Patrick even referred to you as ‘Mrs. Burrow’ a moment before?

Patrick’s eyebrows shot up when he noticed Joe approaching.

“Baby, why don’t you go find our table.” Joe places his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the room.

Joe had two crystal glasses in his hand and forced one towards Patrick. “Hey, Man.” He greeted his competitor. “Before our speech I have one question.”

You could see Patrick’s shoulders visibly fall, thinking he wasn’t going to get in trouble for flirting with you.

“When you touched my fiancé just now, which hand did you use?” Joe asked, his voice full of anger. “Your throwing hand?”

Patrick froze. “What - I -“

“My finance.” Joe took a step closer to Patrick. “Long blonde hair, black dress. The most beautiful woman at the event.” Joe pressed his drink to his lips.

“I - I -“ Patrick’s stuttered response stood no chance against Joe.

“I don’t want to see you near her again. In fact, when we sit down, you better not even look at her.”

Joe turned on his heels and made his way back into the room to find you.

Familiar hands find your shoulders and a kiss is planted on top of your head.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Joe takes a seat at the table next to you. “This will be the last time I agree to work with him.”

“It’s okay, Joey. It’s not your fault.”

“I refuse to work with someone who treats people with disrespect and behaves that way in public. I put him in his place, and if I had the choice, I’d do it all over again. He’s a jackass, and I love you. You’re mine. All mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Joe gives you a reassuring smile.

Players begin to take their seats and you both see Patrick making his way to your table.

“I’ll see if we can move tables.” You start to slide your chair out.

Joe grabs your hand to stop you. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You did try to fight him less than ten minutes ago.”

“And I’d do it all over again if I saw someone touch you like that. Let’s make him jealous and rub it in his face.” Joe gives you a smirk and wink.

[peachetteprice]

WAIT i need to say this but idk where to post it but we're all Price enjoyers here so listen up

neighbour!Price or bestfriend or coworker, or whatever, being absolutely disgusted by your boyfriend/husband for not being ''man enough'' to claim you properly. Price thinks why isn't he putting a baby in you yet? haven't you two been together for months now? he's not doing a good job at it! let Price show you and your partner how it's done.

sorry, i am just weak for traditional slightly misogynistic Price, you hear me? good day

Oh... oh dear... I fear you may be on to something, anon... I'm choosing coworker!Price, because that's the first thing that popped into my head... 🧡

Naturally, coworker!Price studies you over a three-month period after the wedding, pressing his stomach against yours as he goes to hug you in farewell for the weekend, as all male coworkers do, such as he's reasoned for the past two years, analysing how your stomach never once bulges and pushes him away from the weight of a bain, despite the ring on your finger having been there for double that amount of time.

When the office Christmas party comes around, it's a secret-santa sort of affair. There's one final gift under the tree in the foyer. It's small, neatly wrapped, placated with a bow and a tag with the words 'secret santa' in luxurious cursive. It seems a thoughtful gift for anyone, and you haven't had yours yet - it's been two hours, and you just want to go home so you can shower and determine whether your husband's cock needs caring for - so, when your boss pinches it from the ground and plops it in your lap, it's a momentous occasion.

Sacrificing its beauty for curiosity, you rip open the wrapping paper to reveal a box, a cardboard one, and inside the box... one pink rattle with a cotton bunny tailing the end of it. It would have made a fine gift for an expectant mother, like the receptionist, Emma, for example, except that you're not pregnant, and you voice exactly that to whoever stranger in the cohort, expecting to hear a hushed giggle from Ian, sodomised Ian, the creep, who's always ogling the fold in your cleavage whenever you enter the breakroom.

A voice pipes up. It's not Ian's.

"You're not?" It says.

John says, instead of saying 'that bastard', like he wants to.

"No. But... I suppose if I'm ever thinking of having kids anytime soon, I'll... I'll hold onto it." And mutter a very sarcastic 'thank you, Ian' under your breath.

Which John hears. And it angers him.

Without you even knowing, after everyone leaves the office, he's tailing you on the motorway home, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to wrench it from its socket with thoughts of running you off it, careening you into the barrier and heroically coming to your rescue, using the ruse of having just popped to the shops before home, before sweet-talking you like that bastard never did, bending you over the bonnet and stuffing a baby inside you like a true man should with his darling wife, cock fat with semen and weeping cum into that tight, velvet cunt of yours, too cock-drunk to even speak, drooling onto the metal plane of the front of your car as he cements your marriage with a baby, a chubby, healthy one, born from his cum and his cum only.

But you depart from the motorway via the next junction to stop for petrol, and he's too enraptured by the thoughts of fatherhood that he continues straight, right hand in his underwear, eyes dazed as he bursts his load, pretending its you and not his boxers to which he's gifting his precious cum.

| Masterlist |

[forever-rogue]

It's a Lifestyle

AN | Hello, its me! Back from the dead for my favorite time of the year. It's just a sweet little scene with Eddie and his angel and their love of Halloween! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie looked forward to coming home every day. So much. Like so much. 

Because he always knew that you'd be there, excited to see him, even if it hadn't been that long since you'd last seen each other.

He parked his truck in the driveway of the small house that now belonged to the two of you.

A very own home for you both.

He noted your car in the driveway as well, but when he came inside the house, you weren't there to greet him. He took off his boots and set them by the door, reaching down to pet Pickles as she wound herself around his legs. The small black cat purred loudly before giving him one final rub and heading over to the window to sit on the ledge and stare outside. People and animal watching had become a favorite pastime of hers.

"Angel?” he called out, wondering where you had managed to disappear too. He poked around downstairs but found nothing but the delicious smell of fresh brownies. It was like you'd known that he had been craving them. You definitely made the best brownies…not that he was biased or anything.

When you didn't answer him, he climbed up the stairs, assuming you were in the bedroom or office or…somewhere. Hopefully.

As he got to the top of the stairs, the floor squeaked slightly. That alone was enough to alert you to his presence, “Eddie?”

He followed the sound of your voice down the hall and around the corner, finding the stairs to the attic pulled down, “its just me. What're you doing up there?”

“Hi my love,” your pretty face appeared and made him smile, “I'm just going through some boxes to find the Halloween Decorations! I know I have some from the years past-”

“It's not even September yet,” Eddie raised an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face. He was trying not to laugh, but it was all in good fun.

“Halloween is a year round tradition, Edward!” You beckoned for him to come up the stairs, “its not my fault that my year round decor just happens to be Halloween appropriate. Halloween is a lifestyle.”

“I thought it was a holiday?” He started to make the short climb, quickly standing up next to you. He gently took your face in his hands, beaming at you.

“It's a lifestyle,” you repeated, putting your hands on his forearms, smiling back at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he leaned and kissed you softly, pulling away much sooner than you would have liked, but you knew you'd get plenty more later, “Halloween being a lifestyle choice makes sense considering your skull collection.”

“It is an impressive skull collection,” you mused before kissing him again. When he had first met you he was surprised to find that you collected all sorts of different replica skulls. You didn't give off the vibe immediately but he found that they did suit you, “wanna help me decorate, handsome?”

“For you? Anything,” he agreed, heart swelling at the pure joy on your face, “you want to decorate now? We'll decorate now.”

“And maybe go shopping for some new decorations?”

“Sure baby,” he promised, “you never decorated our old apartment much.”

“It was small,” you shrugged softly, “and that only felt like a home because of you. But this is our home now, one we worked hard for. And there's no one else I'd rather be here with. Now we have the freedom and ability to make it our own, however we want.”

“Yeah,” fondness colored his voice as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I love you, you know?”

“I love you,” you threw your arms around him and gave him a cuddly, tender embrace, “now, my love, will you help me bring the boxes downstairs?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed dramatically before immediately getting ready to bring everything down the ladder. You could have asked him for the moon and stars and would have gotten them for you, “I hope you know I'm only being nice because you made brownies.”

“I knew I made them for a reason,” you grinned at him, “you're not a hard sell, Eddie Munson.”

“You're lucky I love you!”

“I love you lots and lots,” you promised, moving the first box towards him so he could bring it down, “and then some!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I'm not sure about this,” Eddie frowned at the coffee currently nestled in your hand, eyebrows almost disappearing into his dark curls, “why do you want a drink that tastes like pumpkin?”

He was, meanwhile and as usual, holding a cup of hot, black coffee. You grinned and shrugged your shoulders before talking a long sip, “because it's delicious and the right amount of sweet and spicy. Besides, it doesn't taste like pumpkin, it's the spices. Try it.”

“What if I die?” He scoffed dramatically before taking the cup of your hand taking a tentative sip. You watched his face go through several emotions before he finally swallowed.

“It's good, huh?” You knew him well enough by now to know when he liked something. He mumbled something under his breath before handing the coffee back to you, “and you didn't die.”

“It's…acceptable,” he tried to play it off but you could see him struggle to hold his laugh back. He quickly grabbed it again and took another sip, “I wouldn't try it again.”

“Whatever,” you kissed his cheek before taking your coffee back and looping your arm through his, walking him in the direction of the home goods store you'd dragged him to. Not that he was really complaining - he loved Halloween too after all, “you don't have to admit I'm right.”

“You wish,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, eyes widening when he noticed all the Halloween items in the shop’s window display, “wow. That's so much Halloween…and it's still so early in the season.”

“That's how it is nowadays,” you shrugged, “but it's to my advantage!”

“What exactly is that you're looking for?”

You moved to step in front of him, looking ridiculously cute in your sweater and scarf and boots, all bundled up to stay warm, “we are looking for whatever speaks to us. You gotta feel it in your gut.”

He couldn't help but laugh as you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his, “whatever you say, angel.”

“We don't have to do this,” you whispered softly, “if you don't want to, I don't want to make you do this, or to make you feel obligated-”

“I want to do this,” he promised, “I love spending time with you, whatever we do.”

“Me too,” you relaxed, smiling shyly at your boyfriend. You reached over and tucked a rogue curl that had escaped from his bun behind his ear, “c'mon on then! Oh - you get to pick what we do next. Wanna go to Guitar Center maybe?”

His eyes lit up as he nodded. He knew that you weren't a music nerd like him, but you always listened intently when he spoke about it, often getting very passionate. You always supported him and his music and he couldn't ask for more.

 “Hell yeah.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That afternoon you spent several hours walking around and looking for the perfect Halloween and fall decor for the house. It was, admittedly, a lot more fun than Eddie could have imagined.

Plus, the two of you had gone to Guitar Center afterwards. Which hadn't hurt. You always felt like you were lost when Eddie got really into talking about music, but you loved how passionate he was about music…everything really.

The only thing that was left to do was to get pumpkins for the front porch and maybe some pie. But that you wanted to do closer to actual Halloween so the pumpkins wouldn't rot. Although Eddie had insisted that would look metal as fuck. 

The two of you had decided to make it a date day and by the time the two of you were heading home it was later into the evening.  Eddie was driving your car, one hand on the wheel and the other one was holding yours.

Music was playing quietly as the two of you talked about anything and everything that crossed your mind. After a while, a content silence fell over the two of you as you stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“What're you thinking about, angel?” He quickly turned his head to look at you, his face illuminated by the passing street lights.

“Nothing,” you felt your cheeks warm up, and keep your eyes turned from his. he squeezed your hand and you knew better than to think he would leave it alone. That wasn't his style at all. You turned your head to face him, squinting your eyes before sighing, “Alright, its something. But it's silly and you're going to laugh.”

“I wouldn't laugh,” he insisted as you raised an eyebrow at him, “fine, I won't laugh unless it's very laugh worthy.”

“You're such an ass,” but you were laughing now, the sound full of adoration and affection, “I was just thinking about how much I love this.”

“This?”

“Us,” you watched a smile tug up the corners of his mouth, “I love being with you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he turned the street to your house, effortlessly pulling into the driveway and parking the car. You unbuckled your seat belt and turned to him, looking at him sweetly, “what? You're looking at me all funny.”

“I'm not looking at you funny,” you leaned over the center console and traced your fingers gently along his jaw, “I just really love you.”

“And…? I know there's something else you're not saying,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted your face up towards him, “out with it angel.”

“It's just that,” you bit your lip, sucking in a slow breath, “I can't wait to marry you one day. I mean. I know this is all real, that what we have is real. But I also can't wait to call you my husband one day. It's like an added little bonus.”

“Oh,” his pale cheeks turned bright pink as he tried to control his excitement. At first you were worried that he wasn't going to share the same sentiment but any worry that popped up quickly disappeared, “I can't wait for that either. I can't wait to call you my wife one day.”

“And you'll be my husband,” you whispered as he nodded eagerly, “you want to marry me too?”

“Of course I do,” he admitted shyly, “and I'm going to propose. You'll just have to wait and see when that is. It'll happen but you'll never know when.”

“Until it happens…”

“Until it happens,” he agreed. Eddie held out his hands and motioned for you to shuffle over the center console, “c'mere.”

“We're in the car!”

“Don't care,” he insisted, helping you over and onto his lap, “just wanna be close to you.”

“Even better,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to your lips so you could kiss him. He sighed softly against your lips, his warm and sweet smell overwhelming you in the best ways possible, “I love you so much, Eddie. Thank you for always dealing with me and my shenanigans.”

“I've never dealing with you,” he nudged his nose against yours, “I love every bit of you. Plus I also enjoy all of your so called shenanigans. We just have…adventures. Silly ones, but good ones. and I happen to love Halloween as much as you. It's a win-win for me.”

“For both of us,” you pressed your forehead against his, “do you wanna go inside and put up some of the stuff we got?”

“Yes,” he agreed eagerly, “but I want to enjoy some more of you first.”

“What…oh,” you grinned, “I would very much like that.”

“Let's go then,” he opened the door and gently helped you out of the car, “no time to waste, m'lady.”

“You're such a dork!”

“So are you,” he countered, “but I love you regardless.”

“And I love you, Eddie."

[berryz-writes]

Faking it

(part 1)

Mattheo x reader

Summary: You and Mattheo pretend to date because your parents won't stop pestering you and girls won't stop falling over themselves to get to Mattheo

note: ignore the title its not very.........smart

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Mattheo asked putting his quill down and kicking his legs up onto the desk. History of Magic was the perfect time to sit and chat with your friends and catch up on missed gossip.

I shrugged "It's the ball tomorrow so probably getting lectured by my dear mother" A tradition since I was 12. To nag ask me to bring a date with me to the ball. This year was especially important because I hadn't brought anyone with me last year and my mother was not impressed.

Mattheo rolled his eyes "Please. You've got it easy"

I raised an eyebrow. What was he complaining about? "And what's troubling you so much?"

He sighed dramatically "All I here is everywhere I go is do you have a date for the ball? A guy can't even eat breakfast in peace"

I scoffed. He was always so unnecessarily dramatic.

"Well. Do you?" It's not like I was wanting it to be me, I was just genuinely interested. Curious. Not at all wondering who the girl was and what Matheo's standards and type was.

"Of course I don't. All the girls that come up to me are sluts who want me to take them to my dorm after"

I shrug "At least they have the confidence to ask. You'll be left with no one soon enough"

Mattheo rolled his eyes as if what I was saying was utterly ridiculous "There's always someone. And anyways I could always go with you"

I paused. The voices in the classroom had become a background noise in my mind. I looked at Mattheo, trying to see if he was making a joke out of all this. I could usually tell because of how his lips would always pull into a small smirk but this time he was utterly serious.

"Us two?" I asked. I don't know why I said that. Maybe it was to make sure I had heard him right.

"Yeah. It would get those girls off my back and your parents will probably be happy you've found a good looking guy like me"

I rolled my eyes, trying to act like this wasn't something I was excited about or wanted to do "Someone thinks highly of themselves"

Matheo's eyes had glazed over as if he was in deep thought about something. His hand was tapping his knee in a constant rhythm and his eyebrows were scrunched in concentration. It was quiet cute to watch, honestly.

"Y'know. My idea wasn't so bad."

I raise an eyebrow "Your ideas are always bad. Which one are you talking about this time?"

He moved closer to me so I could hear his quiet voice "Me and you. We could go to the ball together. Pretend to date for a while and then act like it didn't work out between us."

My heart beat's pace increased. Why was it increasing? I'd love to tell you but I didn't know either. Maybe it was the fact that I wouldn't mind getting closer to Mattheo. Or maybe the fact that I knew if I accepted his idea I would be heartbroken by the end of it.

"But once we break up I'm just going to have to find another guy" I tried explaining. I did want to go along with his idea but I didn't want to seem too desperate. Also I don't think my parents saw Mattheo as a great influence.

He rolled his eyes acting as if I was the dumb one "Just pretend your going through an emotional...breakdown or something. And by then you'll be able to find someone you like.  It's not as if anyone would reject you" He said all this with a serious tone, as if he wasn't telling me to keep a lie going to my family but also probably break my heart in the process. I skipped over the last bit of what he said because if I thought of it for too long I would become obsessed with it and that probably wasn't a good idea.

"I'll think about it" I finally decided. I already knew what my answer was but I didn't need his ego to inflate even more...also because I had pride in myself and wasn't about to cave to on of his ideas so quickly.

*a few hours later*

"Why do you ask to play if you know your going to lose?" I asked Theo feeling slightly bad for him at this point. It was our fifth game of cards and he had lost all of them. He rolled his eyes "I'm helping pass time so you should be thanking me" It was just after our last lesson of the day and we were all in the common room or out in the gardens waiting for supper. Luckily exams weren't anywhere close so I could use this time however I wanted.

I smiled slightly at Theo's disgruntled expression "Right"

Handing out the cards again I picked up my pile and spread them out looking for a diamond. I picked out two debating on which one, choosing the nine of diamonds when I heard a slight noise behind me.

"I wouldn't go for that. I've seen Theo's cards and he's going to get you back if you put that nine down" It was Mattheo. He had taken a seat next to me on a stool having seemingly finished the shouting match he was having with Draco a few minutes ago.

I glared at him in annoyance "You've just told Theo what card I have!" Was he being deliberately annoying or did he not know how card games worked?

A slight smirk on his expression told me he was being irritating on purpose "Don't be mad at me darling. It was a mistake" He had gotten closer to me now his proximity too much for me. Luckily Theo caused a commotion by throwing his cards onto the table, me and Mattheo both turning to look at him.

"I'm not playing anymore. I've had enough of losing y/n" He said dramatically, getting up and sticking up his middle finger at Mattheo before leaving. What was wrong with everyone today?

Mattheo let out a sigh "Finally. Have you decided then?" His voice had changed to being serious within seconds, his teasing smile gone.

I knew what he was talking about but all the same I furrowed my brows and acted confused "decided what?" It was his turn to frown as he moved even closer to me "The fake dating thing? Your memory needs fixing sweetheart" He said quietly waiting for my response.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn't look him in the eyes when he said names like that. Would saying yes lead to me having a broken heart and in a lot of trouble if my parents found out? Yes. But was I doing it anyways? Yes.

"My memory doesn't need fixing" I rolled my eyes but continued on "And fine I'll do it"

Mattheo grinned "Fucking finally" He got up and pressed a kiss to my cheek "I'll see you later. If anyone asks tell them your taken" He walked away out of the common room and to who knows where. I lightly touched where he had kissed my cheek. Was this going to be normal now? Him just kissing me any time of day? Not that I minded.

I looked around the common room to see a few girls in my year already walking over to me, raising their eyebrows. They were probably going to ask what the kiss was about and I'd have to tell them I was dating..... realisation hit me.

Mattheo hadn't kissed me because he wanted to but so the others could see and would come and ask me. He was smart. I would give him that but it did hurt my feelings slightly.

After a lot of explaining how me and Mattheo got together and lying for three hours straight I slipped into my bed earlier than usual, staring at my dress for the next night. It was a dark green almost the exact shade of our Slytherin robes except in silk. I turned to my other side wishing I hadn't eaten so much dessert because it still didn't seem digested to me. I could hear hooting in the distance, guessing it was probably other students owls, coming back or going out to send letters.

I had sent a letter to my parents just after dinner, telling them not to worry and how I had a date for the ball this year. I had re written the letter so many times, worried the expression when they read my words would make it obvious I was lying. After the fire had eaten up 4 parchments I finally sent the letter off hoping for the best. Pansy had ended up reading over my shoulder before I could stop her and had found out I was "dating" Mattheo. At first she was upset I hadn't told her. Her arms had been crossed and a permanent frown had been etched onto her face.

I couldn't lie to her so I eventually told her the truth, her eyes widening as I explained everything.

"I'm sure it'll be fine" She had said eventually. I hoped she was right.

The next day rushed by extremely quickly. It felt like I had just had breakfast but here I was waiting for my mother to show up. She had said she wanted to "meet me before she left for something extremely important in a different country"

She just meant she was going on holiday without me but I didn't mind. The last time I had gone all she did was talk about my grades and the clothes I was wearing or something else that annoyed me. I turned to Pansy who was starting to look at her nails in boredom.

"You should go. Start getting ready" I said to her. She was waiting with me, just inside the school gates. Pansy shrugged "I don't mind. You need support when your dear mother comes because Salazar knows you can't lie"

I crossed my arms even though I knew she was kind of right "I can. Listen I'll be fine, trust me. Go get ready"

Pansy hummed in thought "It does take me a while to do my eyeliner.....fine. See you, don't crumble under pressure" She blew me a kiss and walked back in leaving me to crack my knuckles repeatedly even though they were already cracked.

I couldn't even wait in peace because as soon as Pansy left I heard gravel crunch behind me and when I turned to look who it was, Mattheo's grin made me want to stop time. God he was gorgeous and he didn't even try.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as he stood next to me, his body heat reaching me at his close proximity. He raised an eyebrow a knowing smile on his lips "You can't lie to me forget lying to your own mother"

I huffed in annoyance. Why did everyone underestimate me? I mean they were right but still. And how could I lie to Mattheo when his chocolate eyes would make me melt in mere seconds? And how did he know what I was waiting for? Pansy must have told him on her way in.

Without warning my mother apparated in front of me before I could confirm what I was thinking. She was wearing smart wizarding robes. She had probably just come from work. Like usual she didn't hug me, just giving me a once over and then turning to Mattheo instead.

"So your dating my daughter?" She got straight to the point, tossing her blonde waves behind her, eyes narrowed. Mattheo nodded his expression serious

"Yes maam"

Her eyebrows raised slightly but she carried on quizzing him about his grades, plans and even what he thought about marriage. I wanted to die right about now. Luckily she only turned to me at the very end of her little interview "I expect you to have good grades by the end of the year. Your father sends his love" And with that she apparated away just as quickly as she had arrived.

I let out a sigh "Thanks. She's a handful sometimes" I told him, feeling bad that he had to take the brunt of her questioning. He shrugged wrapping an arm around my waist "It's fine, nothing I can't handle"

"You don't have to pretend like we're dating when no one's looking you know" I said to him quietly. It was getting dark now and no one would be out in the gardens anyways. Mattheo ignored me, carrying on walking toward the castle, his hand shifting to pull me closer

"Someone could be looking though the window, sweetheart. You can't be too careful" He whispered in my ear, his voice making my insides heat and my legs feel like jelly. I blinked at him as he straightened up acting as if he hadn't just made butterflies erupt in my stomach from a few simples words.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

I couldn't survive one night next to him without my brain cells melting how would I survive a whole fucking week?

[jishyucks]

Candy Cane Delays — lmk

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, classmates au

‣ wc: 3k

‣ summary: Sure, it was disheartening seeing everyone receive a holiday candy gram but you, especially when you’re the one in charge of selling them at lunch. But don't worry, yours is on the way. He’s just… running a bit late.

‣ warnings: nothing i think,, reader’s kinda annoying about not getting a holiday candy gram but honestly same

‣ an: first part of my True Love Gave to Me Series YAY! Hopefully my writing’s good enough and this is somewhat cute bc I thought the idea was adorable,,, it honestly would’ve been longer and more detailed if I didn’t have 11 other mini fics to write but PLS ENJOYYY

Series Masterlist

Every year for the past 3 years, you've been in charge of selling the holiday candy grams for the winter dance.

And every year for those same 3 years, you’ve never, not even once, received a single candy gram. 

Sure, your best friend Yeri always offered to get you one for fun, but you told her off, cause in your mind it didn’t count when they tell you they’ll be getting you one. You wanted to receive one the good ‘ol traditional way—you wanted to be surprised. 

But whatever you wished, you never received. 

And that was okay. 

Because there came a point where you accepted the fact that you would probably never get one. It was a bit depressing (and maybe a tad embarrassing), but you simply chose to never get your hopes up every year just to be let down at the end. And though it was initially pretty easy ignoring this conclusion, it simply did not help that you were always put in charge of selling the damn grams. 

Every lunch period, you sit behind a table, a poster board with the words ‘PURCHASE YOUR HOLIDAY CANDY GRAMS FOR WINTER DANCE HERE!’ taped at its edge. You wait for students to approach you with pocket money, then you slide them as many candy grams as they pay for. Once they’ve finished filling out the slips of paper, you take the sheets back and begin preparing them by taping candy canes the school bought from the local dollar store. 

It was a routine you have gotten used to, and you don't expect to see any changes happening any time soon. 

“Can I have three, please?” 

You look up from your pile of candy canes to see your classmate, Jaemin, who’s blinking back at you with a wide smile. You nod and hold your hand out for him to drop his coins in. They land with a muted clunk noise before you drop them into the big metal bank you had pushed to the side. 

“Here you go,” you grin back, sliding three slips of paper toward the boy. He thanks you before turning to a nearby table and you’re left to turn back to the unfinished candy grams sitting in front of you. 

The time that lights up on the screen on your phone tells you that you need to start cleaning up soon so that you’re able to drop the candy grams off to the students distributing them for the day. Relief washes over you as you complete the remaining grams, just in time for Jaemin to return, gripping folded slips of paper in his fingers.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says, handing them to you, “I’ll see you in class, Y/N!” 

“See you, Jaemin,” you reply. And you quickly finish the last three before you start cleaning up. 

You place the empty candy grams on top of the earned money before locking the box. When you stand up, the chair makes an unpleasant noise against the floor and you cringe slightly. Rounding the table, you move the chair along with you, placing it on top and upside down for tomorrow’s use. 

“Am I too late?” 

Another person's sudden presence startles you, making you realize that you've been too absorbed in your tasks to notice the approaching footsteps.

You turn to friend and classmate, Mark, who’s out of breath and sweating from practically every gland of his body. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees and he’s trying to catch his breath. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of nose, but he quickly catches it with the tip of his index finger.

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “Ah, Mark… you’re late…” You pick up the bag of candy canes and sigh, “Again.” 

A sense of déjà vu washes over you. This exact occurrence has been happening for a week straight now and you’re trying to figure out how Mark even manages to pull the same thing each day. It was actually kind of cute, if you had to admit just once, and you’re admittedly curious as to what’s causing him to pull up to the table 30 seconds late. 

“I think my phone’s clock is three minutes too fast,” Mark frowns, eyes round as he brings his phone’s screen up to his face. 

You start walking down the hall and toward Mrs. Kim’s room, where everything was kept between days, “You do know that the clocks on our phones can’t be early, right?” 

Mark nods, though you don’t see. He’s still trailing right behind you, even into the classroom, “I know, but I just needed to blame something.” 

You two approach a closet at the corner of the classroom and you use a key to open it up. You place the things inside, making sure it’s neat and tidy and somewhere slightly hidden in case students decide to break in. You don’t mind Mark seeing where you hide it, though. You trust him. 

The boy gulps before he goes to ask you a question, “Hey, for the Winter Dance—”

“How were the sales today, Y/N?” 

Mark is interrupted by Mrs. Kim, who’s returning from her own lunch break. She glances at Mark and greets him at the same time.

“I think today had the most sales so far,” you reply, “So it went well! Do you want me to leave the finished grams here? I already organized them by class.” Shutting the door, you lock the closet.  

Mrs. Kim nods and makes room on her desk for the bag, “Yes please. Chenle and Jisung are coming in a bit to pick them up. Thanks for your help, Y/N.” 

You bow your head and offer a smile before you turn to leave, Mark following not too far behind. 

“What were you saying?” You look up at him, slowing your pace.

“Hm?” Mark’s head crooks to the side, “When?” Did he accidentally say something out loud?

“Before Mrs. Kim came in. You were saying something but I didn’t catch it.” 

Mark’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen. Lucky for him, you don’t notice, eyes dead set on your guys’ classroom, “Oh… uh–I forgot.” Mark knows damn well what he wanted to ask you. But the confidence he had built up at that moment dies along with his words and he figures that he’ll just try again another day. He tries his best to play it off, throwing in a sheepish laugh to spice it up, “But if it comes up again, I’ll make sure to say it.” 

“You’re young and you’re already forgetful,” you joke, rolling your eyes playfully, “But okay, fine by me.” You turn to sit at your desk, seeing that Yeri’s already at her’s, but you stop yourself and turn back to Mark, “Are you going to be late tomorrow, again?”

Mark feels his cheeks heat up and his head lowers in embarrassment, “I’ll try not to.”

You let out a snort and nod, this time actually heading to your seat. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

When Chenle and Jisung come around to hand out the candy grams, students around you perk up in anticipation of receiving one. Yeri nudges your arm when the boys start passing them out, plopping the very same candy grams you finished at lunch.

“Brighten up, you might get one today,” she whispers. Her eyes follow Chenle, who’s approaching the both of you. 

“I know I’m not getting one, Yers,” you shake your head, “I made them.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you can’t get one,” she groans, “Maybe you’re not getting one because you’re being a Negative Nancy.” 

“Please never say that again,” you narrow your eyes at her. 

And when Chenle and Jisung start making their way toward the door and your desk is still empty, you turn to give Yeri a I told you so look.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Mark’s leg bounces out of anticipation as his eyes wander off to the clock hanging crookedly at the other corner of the room. He has 5 minutes to get up and leave and make it to the candy gram booth. But with the way Renjun was going on and on about an excerpt he had written for this week’s writing club meeting, Mark feels like he’s barely going to make it again.

For some reason, the hormones in his body are causing his heart to knock against his chest repeatedly. He can hear it pounding in his ears, practically drowning out Renjun’s voice. 

Sure buying those candy grams didn’t seem like that big of a deal to anyone else in the group, but to Mark, it was part of a plan he’s had written down in the notes app of his phone since November—asking you out to the winter dance through a gram. Mark knows that he can’t trust himself when it comes to verbally asking you. So a candy gram should do it (yes, he’s aware that’s a little bit dumb but it’s the thought that counts). 

The second that Renjun concludes his piece, Mark is up and out of the room, putting his chair in its rightful place behind a desk. He’s practically sprinting down the hall, slowing down into a walking pace when he passes by doors just so he wouldn’t be stopped and delayed for longer if a teacher had caught him running down the hall like some delinquent. 

He can see the intersection of the hallway where you always set the table up and he books it, the single strap of his backpack hanging on for dear life.

“Am I late?”

Mark stands in front of you, hands on his knees and he’s panting. It was the same exact scene as yesterday. “Please tell me I’m not.” 

You frown, glancing at the table you had just pushed up against the wall, “Sorry, Mark.” 

He groans, “I need to start leaving earlier.” Mark begins to trail you from behind, feet heavy from missing the candy grams yet again. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you have one more week,” you point out. Your arms wrap around the piggy bank and the coins jingle inside. Today was particularly more busy than the previous days. You question, “What do you even do over lunch?”

“I have clubs I go to,” Mark chews on his bottom lip, “It’s kind of stupid—”

“It’s not stupid if you enjoy it,” you shrug. He watches as you tuck the piggy bank and the extra candy canes at the back of the closet before shutting it, “And if you’re always running late you must actually enjoy them.” 

“I guess so,” Mark says quietly. “I’ll come in time tomorrow.” He says this more for himself than for you. 

You laugh, “We’ll see, Mark Lee.” Looking down at the bag of candy canes, you pull one out and hold it out to him, halting just outside of Mrs. Kim’s room, “I’ll give you one for free~” 

Mark stops and blinks at the candy cane in your hand and he sighs. The candy canes weren’t even the reason why he desperately wanted to buy the grams. He can quite literally drop by the store on the way home and get a pack himself if he wanted. 

Mark simply just wanted to get this plan done and over with. He wants to know if you’re going to reject him or if you’re going to say yes. But because this was being drawn out like some imperfect line across a ridiculously long page, he’s not going to know until he gets his hands on one of the candy grams.

But still, Mark lets himself smile at the gesture, hand grazing yours as he takes it, “Thanks, Y/N.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

For the next week, Mark (unsurprisingly) arrives late. He catches you either already cleaning the table up or already walking down to Mrs. Kim’s classroom to store the things. And everytime he does come late, Mark wants to beat himself up for it. 

But on the last day, you’re caught by surprise when Mark approaches you in the middle of setting up the booth. For once he isn’t out of breath, and he’s not sweating and hunched over. It was a refreshing sight—amusing, even. The effort this boy was putting into holiday candy grams was endearing and you hope that the people he’s sending his grams to know it. 

“First one here,” you giggle, “How many do you want?”

“Seven,” Mark shoots, “Please.” 

“Seven’s a lot,” You nod, sliding the seven slips of paper before you retrieve the money from him, “Do you know what to do?” 

“Um… just got a lot of people I care about,” Mark retorts. He grabs the slips of paper, a sigh of relief slipping out of his lips, “Thank you.” 

Mark disappears for a good while, though you can see him bent over a table across the hall, scribbling into the blanks like he was supposed to. He looked rather focused, mouthing the small messages he’s leaving on the candy grams. A small part of you is nosy, wanting to know who he’s sending these candy grams to and what messages he’s writing so intently. 

Once he’s finished, Mark returns to the table, placing the candy grams on the table in front of you, “Thanks, Y/N… I can’t talk right now—I do want to catch up with my club—but I’ll talk to you later?” 

You smile gently, taking the filled out candy grams, “Of course. I’m just glad you were able to actually get these today.” 

“Believe me, I am too,” Mark sends a warm smile before he bids you goodbye.

You huff and begin prepping the 7 candy canes for Mark’s seven candy grams. You go ahead and rip 7, inch-long, pieces of tape for each one and start your routine, taping each candy cane to each sheet of paper. 

“Last one,” you mutter to yourself, taking the 7th candy cane between your fingertips. 

When you go to grab the last slip of paper, you’re sent into a brief state of confusion when you don’t actually find a seventh slip. Your brows furrow and you let out an audible ‘huh?’ as you try to search your proximity for that last candy gram.

Did you miscount? Or did Mark just not use it? He could have gotten a refund if he wasn’t going to use it…  Why didn’t he tell you anything?

After thinking hard on it, you let the problem go for now, making a small reminder to yourself to ask Mark about it later.

Chenle and Jisung come to your guys’ class just before the day ends and you would be lying if you said that you had just the slightest bit of hope that you’d receive one since it was the last day—cause surely, for the entire two weeks you’ve been out at lunch selling that damn things, you’d get one, right? 

Sometimes, anticipation was a bitch. It was killing you watching Chenle and Jisung pull out each one from their shared bag, searching the room for the person receiving a damn gram before scurrying down the aisle of desks and plopping it down gently. With each one they would quietly say a ‘for you’ before turning back to the bag to grab the next one. 

Hope was a bitch, too.

“Once again, sorry for interrupting,” Chenle apologizes to your teacher before dragging Jisung out of the room. 

Just as they slip out of the classroom, the bell rings and you don’t find the energy to stand up just yet, eyes staring blankly at your empty desk. 

“You should have just let me get you one, Y/N,” Yeri frowns, rubbing the middle of your back for comfort. She knows exactly how you’re feeling right now, “Want me to treat you to ice cream later? Bubble tea? Anything?”

You shake your head and try to prop a smile on your face, “No, it’s fine, Yers. I just thought that…” Mark.  “Nevermind… Let’s just go.”

You finally push yourself up from your desk and grab your belongings. You leave the room in a hurry, Yeri struggling to keep up with your quick movements. 

From afar, right by your locker, you spot Mark standing there patiently with his hands buried deep into his pockets. And with the boring class you had just had and not receiving a candy gram yet again, you almost forgot that you had to ask Mark about the 7th gram—better yet—he was probably at your locker to tell you about it. 

“Mark,” you greet. Your fingers start fiddling with your lock as you absentmindedly put in your combination, “I wanted to talk to you about the candy grams.” 

“I was actually here for the same reason.” There’s a tone in Mark’s voice that catches you off guard. There’s a slight hint of uneasiness, “Um… and…”

“And?” Now he’s caught your attention. You don’t realize that Yeri’s standing by her own locker, trying to subtly listen in on the conversation. 

“Wait–uh–let me start with the candy gram first because then it can play out, I guess?” Mark shakes his head at how awkward he’s being before pulling out that 7th slip of paper from his pocket, “I…” He goes to read it, taking in a deep breath, eyes scanning it before he hurriedly sticks it out to you, “I was supposed to hand this in earlier at lunch but I figured that since you, you know, were the one doing the candy grams, I didn’t want you seeing it at such an awkward time?”

You’re frozen in place, gently taking the candy gram. With your heart skipping beats and the butterflies suddenly erupting in your stomach, your eyes bulge out of your eyes as you read your name on the sheet in Mark’s handwriting. This was a candy gram for you. To you, From Mark. Your first ever candy gram and it was from Mark. 

Your attention flies straight to the note in the given space beneath the To and the From. 

Your heart skips another beat. 

Winter Dance with me?

“I-I’m sorry there’s no candy cane with it or anything and I don’t have any chocolates or some present to give you and this is such a lame way to ask you to the dance I meant it to be a bit more romantic than this but—”

You cut off Mark’s rambling, “Yes.” 

“W-what?”

“Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @dinonuguaegi @niinjo (couldn't tag :(()

an: first part of my series YAY ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ meant to post it earlier but school and duties call rip,, i hope you enjoyed this! pls leave a like or rb if you enjoyed it and i wanna hear your thoughts on this;; it was the first one I wrote for this so I'm not sure if it's cute :( anyways THANKS FOR READING!

[3liza]

the other thing about duvets is i dont like that theyre a big pillowcase. this is more trouble than its worth imo. i think duvet covers should actually be two separate pieces, or one long piece in a taco format, and you just spread it out on the bed or floor, spread out the duvet on top, and THEN fasten the top of the duvet cover closed with either buttons or a concealed zipper along the edge. zipper texture unpleasantness could easily be tucked inside a padded border so it doesnt scratch you at night.

duvet covers were introduced to the usa in the 1960s as a part of the "scandinavian" interior decor movement during midcentury modern (they were brought from Sweden, so not actually scnadinavian, but americans dont know the difference and we dont care [edit: i am being informed sweden is actually considered part of scandinavia, i had been previously misinformed]), apparently from the Habitat store in London. i thought Biba was involved for some reason but I may be confusing a bit of documentary i watched with something else. in the documentary, the older lady they were interviewing who used to work at the department store that she claimed popularized the duvwet (either Habitat or Biba) talked about how the sales girls were trained to "demonstrate" the "convenience" of the duvet vs the traditional British method of quilt+sheets, and she remarked she got so good at it she could put the duvet in the cover in about 30 seconds. however when she tried to demonstrate for the presenter she got completely flummoxed by the damned thing. it was at that point i knew duvets were a mistake

anyway im finding some interesting gadgets for securing duvets rn, the one that looks least ugly is a thing that looks like a fabric-covered button that snaps into another button using a tack that pierces the duvet and cover layers. the other solutions also seem fine but are all ugly plastic doohickeys that would bother me on an aesthetic basis. the tack would probably damage the fabric but if you're not using your nice linens i bet it doesn't matter much, especially if the duvet cover is a rustic textile of some kind

the wikipedia article about the duvet is very interesting. i especially liked the part about how previous attempts to introduce it to england were failures

one of the other home bedding issues in the usa is that home washers and dryers and apartment washers and dryers are generally not big enough to effectively wash a down duvet or a quilt thats larger than about a Full, depending on thickness. this bothers me. feather down is especially irritating in this respect because it will get mildewy instantly if it isnt bone dry immediately after laundering. mentioning Sweden yet again, a friend showed me her shared laundry facilities in her Swedish apartment once and they DID have large, industrial machines that could easily take a duvet. she said this was typical. america continues to be difficult to live in for no good reason. its like literalyl everything you do here is 160% harder and more expensive than any other "comparable" country

[schoopsahoy]

i'm holding every breath for you

steve harrington x nextdoor neighbour!reader {8.2k} based on the song i’d lie by taylor swift. friends-to-lovers. lots of pining, a bit of angst, steve being oblivious to reader’s feelings. reader uses she/her pronouns. no use of y/n. not proofread

You root through the glove compartment of Steve’s car, bent over at the waist to peer into the small space trying to find the lip balm you swore you left there the last time he gave you a ride. 

“Why d’you have so much crap in here? How am I meant to find anything?” You pull out random scraps of paper, food wrappers and notes scribbled in a hurry that were barely legible.

“You wouldn’t have to look through it if you didn’t forget something every time you’re in here.” 

You shoot him a glare, no malice really behind it because he was right, you did have a bad habit of constantly leaving your stuff in his car. Though to be fair, you were constantly leaving things behind in the places you’d been, it wasn’t exclusive to his car.

“S’not my fault, I just forget.” You’ve got a pile of rubbish on your lap now, the glove box empty enough for you to actually see its contents. When you finally see the plastic tube you’ve been searching for you let out a small ah!, inhaling quickly as you pull it out with a victorious smile on your face. “Got it.” 

“Best put it somewhere safe, god forbid you have to root through my stuff again.” Steve’s eyebrows were raised, a sarcastic twang to his voice, but you know he’s not really mad. He was never mad, not at you anyway. 

“I know, sorry, could have all sorts of secrets in here.” 

You put all the rubbish you’ve accumulated back into the compartment, really you should keep hold of it to throw it all out. But the thought doesn’t cross your mind until you’re back home in your room.

“Think you know all of my secrets anyway, I’ll let it slide.” 

You sit back in your seat, pulling down the sun visor to shield your eyes from the summer evening sun that was hanging low in the sky. You have your own car, and were perfectly capable of driving it, but Steve insisted on driving you around because your car was old and rickety and ‘should not be allowed on the road’. He was at least a little bit right, and you can't say you mind him picking you up from your shifts at the grocery store. His passenger seat had always felt a bit like home, even through high school and the girlfriends that would come and go, your presence up front was a constant. 

You undo a few of the buttons on your work shirt, the sticky heat of the day clinging to the fabric and your skin. The air conditioning near the checkouts in work was temperamental at best, and today it had decided to pretty much pack in altogether. The first thing you’d done when you got into Steve’s car was crank the AC up to try and lower your body temperature from feverish to just plain old hot. 

“You coming to the lake this weekend?” You pick at your chipped nail varnish, Steve finally able to actually start the drive home now you’ve dug through his mess successfully. It was a Hawkin’s summer tradition to spend at least one day down by the lake, drinking and smoking a bit too much and getting a little dizzy from a full day of sun exposure. 

Steve hums, nodding in response as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You’ll never guess who asked me that at work today.” 

“At work? Robin?” You look away from your nails, brows furrowed and nose scrunched with confusion. 

“No, not Robin.” Steve chuckles, your response typical of your mind, always a little ditzy and in your own world. It was endearing in a way, your world view simple and honest and good. “Tammy Thompson.” 

Your mouth opens to a small ‘O’, head nodding slowly. “You gonna go with her?” 

“No, absolutely not. Couldn’t pay me to go with her.” 

“She’s not so bad, in the grand scheme of Hawkin’s.” 

“If my best option is Tammy Thompson, I think I’ll just stay single forever.” 

You press your lips together, nodding again. You were overly familiar with Steve’s dating woes, both throughout school and now into adulthood. Maybe if you were bolder, with less to lose than your best friend, you’d just tell him to date you. Bite the bullet and take the leap and just give it a try. But you weren’t bold, you were safe and comfortable in the familiar and not ready to jeopardise that by confessing some big feelings that Steve was oblivious to.

“You just gonna hide from her the whole time then?”

“Maybe, use you as a human shield.” He grins at you, watching as you scrunch up your nose again. It was one of those mannerisms that you did all the time, whenever something confused you or if he teased you a little. It was a dead giveaway for your emotions, even if you were unaware of it. 

“But you’re bigger than me, I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” 

“Y’not even gonna try? I’d do it for you.” He pouts at you, you’re sure he’s doing his best puppy dog eyes behind his sunglasses too. 

“Sure, I’ll try. But don’t blame me when she spots you, I can’t grow like 3 feet taller in a few days.” 

“Don’t think you’d need to grow 3 feet, honey.” 

“To do a proper job I would.” 

Steve just nods, smiling to himself as he pulls into the street you’ve both grown up on. Carpooling was pretty easy when you only had to make one stop, though he’d take you to the other side of the world if you asked him to. 

“You gonna need a lift to work tomorrow?” Steve parks up in his driveway, turning the ignition off and cutting off the AC you’ve been basking in, a small sigh coming from your lips as the cool air stops fanning on your skin. 

“S’okay, I start at like 6am so I can drive.” You pick your backpack up out of the footwell, corduroy straps held tightly in your hand. 

“You’re not driving that death trap when you’re half asleep, you know I don’t mind dropping you off.” Steve’s car keys dangle from his pointer finger, the collection of keyrings you’d gotten him over the years from every holiday you’d been on jingling against one another. “Just bang on my door if I don’t knock before you need to leave.”

“You’re silly for doing this, y’know that?” 

“Only for you, sweetheart.” 

Steve leans over to ruffle your hair, earning him a huff from you as you try to move your head away. You smooth out the mess as you climb out the passenger side, slinging your bag over one shoulder as you start to make your way over to your own house. 

“You forgetting something?” Steve calls after you, and as you turn you see him holding out the same lip balm you’d left behind before. 

“Oh, thanks Stevie.” You hurry back over to take the tube out of his hand, giving him a sweet smile before heading back home again. 

—

You’re used to early mornings, pretty good at pushing past the grogginess after having to work so many opening shifts and be alert when the sun is still climbing in the sky, but being jostled about the back of Eddie’s van with the rest of your friends when you’re all still half asleep hurt your head a little bit. 

It was the easiest option, meaning you could all make your way to the lake together and only have one designated driver, but you did miss seatbelts. 

The heat was still yet to break, the air thick and clammy despite only wearing a tank top and some jean shorts over your bikini. You’re already slathered in sunscreen, the artificial coconut smell a bit overwhelming in the enclosed space and it doesn’t seem to lessen even once you’re out in the fresh air. 

“I wish we had one of those big umbrellas.” You stand with your hands on your hips, watching the boys lug the bags filled with snacks and the cooler of beer and soda out of the van. “It’s so hot.” 

“That’s what the lakes for, cools you right down.” Eddie smiles, shaking his curls out of his eyes as he stands up straight. 

You shrug, staring out at the glistening water. “I don’t wanna get my hair wet.”

“It’s gonna get wet.” 

“Shame.” You chew the inside of your cheek and hold your arms out to take one of the picnic blankets that’d been brought along. 

It took you about fifteen minutes to all settle on a spot along the shore, Eddie and Robin wanting to be as close to the pier as possible so they can dive-bomb into the water but Nancy saying there’ll be too much foot traffic there and nobody will be able to relax. You stand back, letting your friends argue it out and laying down your blanket once the issue had been resolved. 

The sun feels nice on your skin, the lake having more of a breeze than the rest of town making it bearable to lay out in. It doesn’t take too long for the midday heat to have you peeling off your tank top, shorts unbuttoned and rolled down a little so you can feel the heat on your stomach. 

Eddie hands out one of the joints he pre-rolled for the occasion, something about needing to start early so he can sober up before he drives you all home. The smoke has your head feeling a little fuzzy, mixing with the beer you’ve been sipping slowly and slowing your mind down. 

“You’re going pink.” Steve sits down next to you, cross legged and shoulders almost brushing. 

“I thought it was green?” You tilt your head to one side, putting the back of your hand to your head to feel your temperature. “I feel okay.” 

“No, not that, your shoulders.” 

You lift your sunglasses onto the top of your head, looking down to your shoulders which were turning a little pink. Your freckles coming out where the sun had kissed your skin. “Oh, right, I am.” 

“C’mere.” Steve leans over to reach for the sunscreen, not moving from his seat next to you as he stretches his arm over the blanket. “Your mom will be mad if I let you get burnt.” 

You shake your head, shuffling around so Steve can get to your shoulders easier. “You’re her favourite, she’d just tell me to be more careful.” 

The sunscreen feels cold, even as Steve rubs it in carefully against the hot patches of skin on your shoulders, being careful to get it under the straps of your bikini. You’re used to his gentle touches, him always looking after you ever since you were kids, but now you’re older and you’re more aware of the way his hands move and how he treats you like you’re precious and it makes your heart skip a little. 

He moves a hand away to take the joint off Robin, inhaling as he keeps massaging the sunscreen in with his other hand. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin, not yet in the sunburn territory, just a little warm. Your skin always feels soft, he’s not sure if it’s some moisturiser you use or if it’s just how you are. He leans his arm over your shoulder, holding the joint out to you as you take it between your fingers. 

You inhale, careful not to press your lips against the roach too hard in case your lipgloss transfers too much. Steve finally finishes rubbing the cream into your shoulders, and you shuffle again so that you’re facing him. “Is my face pink too? My nose feels kinda warm.” 

Steve lifts his own sunglasses up so he can look at you clearer, hair pushed back by the frames and his hand shielding his eyes from the sun's glare. “A little, you want sunscreen on there too?”

You nod your head, closing your eyes. Your eyelashes cast little shadows on your cheeks, something Steve hasn’t really noticed before but he likes it. Likes seeing you up close, even after all these years. His movements are careful as he brushes the cream across your nose and over your cheeks, just using one finger to rub it into your skin. 

You enjoy the sweet moments, but sometimes they’re too easy to get lost in. It's easy to pretend you don’t harbour all these feelings for Steve when you’re apart, even when you’re just hanging out at a safe distance. But when he’s close, your mind gets a bit carried away. Dreaming up scenarios where he might press a kiss to your lips whilst your eyes are still closed, hold your hand once he’s done and keep it there for the rest of the day. You’ve got a big imagination, it’s a real bother sometimes. 

Steve finishes his careful application, and sets his hand down in his lap to look over your face once more to check he hasn’t missed anywhere. He takes a moment to just watch how you breath steady, a small smile on your lips that always seems to be there without you even knowing. “Okay, you’re done.” 

You open your eyes, instantly squinting from the bright sunlight. You quickly bring your sunglasses back over your eyes, the red heart shaped frames contrasting against your complexion. “Thanks Steve, you’re the best.” 

“I know, s’why you love me.” 

If only you knew, you think. You have to force your face not to react to his words, simply giving him a smile as you lay back down to sunbathe some more. 

The heat and the smoke and the alcohol makes you clingy. They always do, even on their own, so mixing all three was sure to have you craving closeness. 

The boys had all been in the lake, splashing and tackling each other and making enough noise to draw attention from most of the people on the lake. When Steve walks back to the blanket, you hold out your arms to him as if to summon him. 

“Hey, honey. You good?” He sits in that same spot next to you, you instantly lean your head on his shoulder and hum a response. His body is still wet, but you suddenly don’t mind your hair getting a little damp. Steve knows what you’re like when you’re high, having spent enough nights on his back porch sharing a joint when his parents were out of town. Knows how you like to be close to him, he doesn’t mind it so much either. 

“M’good.” You mumble, pushing your face further into his neck. He smells like the fresh water, that same strong sunscreen but somehow still like Steve. You wish you could bottle it up, it's probably your favourite smell in the world. 

Steve puts his arm around your waist, head resting on top of yours. If it was anyone else the close contact in the heat would probably be too much, but it’s okay if it’s you. You’re like an extension of him at this point. “You had enough water today? Don’t want you going loopy.”

“Yeah, drank like two bottles.” You nudge your head in the direction of the empty water bottles discarded next to you, keeping them in a pile to collect at the end of the day. 

“Oh, must just be loopy anyway then.” He teases, giving your side a gentle squeeze. It feels like his hand has an electric current running through it and each movement sends shockwaves through you. 

“Thought you already knew that.” 

“I do, it’s cute.” 

“So you’ll visit me in the loony bin then?” You shift your head slightly so you can look up at him through your sunglasses, everything tinged some muddy colour from the lenses. 

“Every day, if they don’t lock me up with you.” 

“God, can you two get a room? Even Robin and Vickie aren’t this bad and they’re actually together.” Eddie shouts over from the other end of the mismatched collection of blankets, your cheeks heat up more than they already are with his words. The sun at least gives you an excuse for the flush of colour. 

“Can it, Munson.” Steve flips him off with the hand that isn’t still on your waist, the other boy returning the signal with a smug grin on his lips. 

You kind of want the ground to swallow you, suddenly aware that everyone probably knows you’re in love with your best friend. You don’t want the pity smiles or the sorry stares, but then if everyone else knows, why doesn’t Steve? Surely someone must have let something slip by now. Hopefully they haven’t. It’s even worse to think he knows and is ignoring it to save you from the rejection. You squeeze your eyes hard to try and push the thoughts away. 

You lean further into Steve’s side, the cool water on his skin feels soothing against your own. His hand finally moves from your waist up to stroke your hair. His thumb brushing slowly over and over. 

“You seen Tammy Thompson yet?” You want to put the question back inside your head as soon as you’ve said it. 

“Yeah, think you did a pretty good job at being my shield though. Took one look at us and turned on her heel.” 

You smile to yourself, a small laugh coming out as you put your arms around Steve. “That’s good. Maybe I’ll get a job as a bodyguard.” 

Steve chuckles and you can feel the movement against your body, the vibrations making your hairs stand on end. “Don’t think they usually let bodyguards do this sorta thing.” 

“Oh.” You hold your bottom lip under your teeth and exhale. “Maybe not then.” 

—

You’re wallowing. It’s maybe overdramatic, and you’re glad nobody else is there to see it, but you are. You have the house to yourself again, and the whole day off work, but you’ve spent most of it laid out on your lawn with a book trying to distract yourself from the fact that Steve is on a date. 

He told you yesterday, as he was dropping you off from work again, that some pretty girl had been in Family Video and he’d asked her out and she’d said yes. You’d smiled, told him you were happy for him, because he was your best friend and you wanted him to be happy more than anything else in the world. But it hasn't stopped you from moping about the entire day.

The grass tickles the skin on your back that’s exposed from where your shirt is riding up, the feeling irritating you more than it usually would. You’d managed to read about twenty pages in the past hour, having to re-read each paragraph at least three times because your mind keeps wandering. 

Your book is left at your side, defeated by the words that jumbled in your brain, your arm over your eyes to block out the last of the day's light. 

“Hey, you.” Steve chimes from over the shared fence, you hadn’t heard his car pulling up and his voice spooks you a bit as you quickly sit up. 

“Steve, you’re here.” You furrow your brow, confused by his presence. You were no expert on dating, but you had assumed he’d be out much later than this. 

“Can I come over?”

“Stupid question.” 

He smiles at your response, giving you a nod as he walks down the fence and back around into your back garden. “You been out here all day?” 

“Almost. I had to go inside for a bit because it was too hot.” Your legs stretch out in front of you as you lean back on your palms, head tilted up to look at Steve who’s still standing over you. His body blocks the sun, his shadow gives you some relief from it.

“It was pretty hot today.” Steve agrees, lingering in his spot for a minute before he finally takes a seat next to you mirroring your posture. 

“How was your date?” You try to sound interested, like you’re hoping he had the best time and was going to see her again and maybe she was the one. The thought really made you want to die a bit. 

“Bit of a bust.” Steve shrugs, he doesn’t sound too phased by it. You curse yourself for wanting to smile. 

“That’s a shame.” You say, shifting your weight off your palms so you can sit up straight and pick at the grass under your hands. “Not gonna see her again?”

“Probably not, just didn’t have much to say to each other.” 

“But you can talk anyone’s ear off.” You tease, looking at him with your eyes squinted a little, corners of your mouth turned up. Your features look soft in the evening sun, shadows rounding out your cheeks and the little bump on your nose bridge. 

“I can talk your ear off.” Steve corrects you, and gives your shoulder a light shove. The light reflecting off his hair has it turning the colour of honey, the same with his eyes. You wish he wasn’t so pretty, his face was far too easy to look at. 

“Sorry it didn’t go well.” You twist your mouth to the side, eyes all apologetic because you do want him to be happy even if it does hurt your heart. 

“Don’t be. It was nice enough, just not second-date nice.” 

“Y’want to watch a movie? We can watch A Nightmare on Elm Street, might make you feel better.” 

“Why would it make me feel better?” 

“Because you’re not getting chopped up in your sleep.” You say it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Touche. Okay, let’s do it.” Steve pushes himself up off the lawn, holding his hand out to you to help you up. You put your hand in his, his grip solid but still gentle as he pulls you up from the grass. 

You brush your legs off, little indents from the grass left in the bare skin of your calves. “I’ve got the good popcorn too.” 

You walk into your house through the patio doors, the laminate floor cold underfoot as you pad your way into the kitchen. You root through the cupboards, pulling out the various tins and boxes of health food your mom had stocked up on until you finally find the popcorn. 

“See, cinema quality.” You hold the packet out to Steve, pointing at the words printed on it. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

“Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, all affection and sweetness really. You turn the stove on, placing the biggest pan you can find on the hob and letting it heat a little before tipping the kernels into it and putting the lid on top. 

You hop onto the counter beside the cooker, legs dangling and ankles hitting the cupboard below you as you swing them a little. “Now we wait.” 

Steve’s leaning against the island in the middle of your kitchen, hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he looks at you. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact you’ve been lazing around in the sticky heat all day, hair probably a mess and skin a little dewy and definitely not looking your best. 

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, head tilted a little as his eyes stay locked on you. 

You shrug your shoulders, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and not give away the fact that such a simple question has your throat drying up and your stomach twisting into a knot. “Sure, ask away.” 

“Do people ever just, like, assume we’re dating?” He asks the question so casually, like he was just asking how your day had been. “Like, when you’re trying to date, do they ever say that?” 

You scrunch your nose up, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you try to come up with an answer, try to pull words out of your brain that currently feels like it’s been scrambled. “I d’know, I don’t date much, so I guess not.”

Steve pauses, just nodding at your response. He knew you didn’t really date, not after high school anyway. He’d never given it much thought, you’d always come away from dates complaining they were boring or got too handsy or didn’t laugh at your jokes and he’d always thought that those guys must be crazy. Because you were great, the best person he knew if he was being honest. 

“Why?” You force the question out, hoping your voice doesn’t audibly crack from how much effort it's taken to say just one word.

“I was just wondering. Heard it a couple times now, and I was just curious if you had too.” 

Heard it a couple times now. The words echo in your brain, bouncing around over and over to the point it was making you a bit dizzy. Your hands grip the counter beneath you to try and ground yourself. 

The sound of the kernels popping against the lid of the pan breaks the silence before you have to, a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God is watching over you in the moment. You hop down off the counter to get a proper look at the pan, watching as the kernels expand and pop until the little bangs slow and you can turn the stove off. 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above your head, fishing out the largest bowl in there and carefully tipping the popcorn into it. You finally turn back to Steve, bowl held close to your chest with both hands so you won’t drop it. “Okay, let’s go watch some people get slashed up.” 

Steve laughs, the little creases at the corners of his eyes deepening with his smile. “You’re morbid.” 

“No, I’m creative.” You say the words bluntly, but your eyes are still full of warmth for the boy in front of you. Even the coldest words wouldn’t be able to take away from the way you always look at him, a bit like a lovesick puppy. 

You put the bowl of popcorn on the table in the middle of your living room before trying to find the tape you need from the stack around the television set. You have to check a few cases, because most of them weren’t in the right one and there was no point trying to logically work out which one it’d be in. 

“Didn’t you loan this from Family Video like, two months ago?” Steve asks, already in his usual spot on your couch as he watches you open your fifth case to no avail. 

“Probably, yeah.” You don’t sound too bothered by it, the late fee something you’ve never had to pay thanks to Steve always wiping it for you. Finally, on your eighth try, you pull the correct tape out and hold it up to Steve with a grin. “Got it.” 

You eject the tape that’s currently in the VCR player, putting it into the case that you’d found A Nightmare on Elm Street in without checking if it was the right one, and push the right tape into the player before you stand up. 

“That seems like a flawed sorting system.” Steve nods towards the scattered cases on the carpet as you sit down next to him. 

You shrug. “It works for me. We don’t all work in a video store, Steve.”

“You’re right, my bad.” He holds his hands up in defeat. 

You lean forward to grab the popcorn bowl and pass it to Steve. “Try it, I need an unbiased opinion on it.” 

“Why would you be biased?” His question is muffled by him throwing some popcorn into his mouth. 

“I bought it, I want it to be good.” 

“Makes sense.” Steve nods and takes another handful of popcorn. “It’s good, but not cinema good.” 

You sigh, taking a handful for yourself now that Steve had given his review. “They always lie on the packets.” 

You and Steve had watched this film about ten times, including when it was in the theatre and you made him go twice. Knowing the plot back to front was really not helping to distract you from how close Steve is sitting to you, you didn’t have to pay attention because you know what’s about to happen so instead your brain is entirely focused on the fact you can feel Steve’s body heat, his leg pressing against your own and his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you. 

You’re really trying to keep your mind on the movie, eyes stuck to the screen barely blinking, but your brain just won’t cooperate. It’s not like Steve doesn’t always sit this close to you, because he does. But you’re still reeling from what he said in the kitchen and your thoughts show no sign of slowing. 

Steve sits up to put the half eaten bowl of popcorn back on the table, his movements making your breath hitch in your chest and your muscles tense. You think you must look crazy. 

“You feelin’ okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, which only makes you tense up more.

“Mhm.” You hum, turning just a little to glance at him and give him your most convincing smile. “Probably just got sun sickness y’know? Brains been cooked all day.” 

“You mean heat stroke?” He rubs his thumb over the curve of your shoulder, the feeling comforting in a sickly sort of way. 

“Nah, different things.” 

“You wanna go to bed? We don’t have to watch the movie.”

You shake your head, eyes focusing back on the gory scene on the tv in front of you. “I’m okay, I think it’s helping.” 

“Watching people get chopped up?”

“Exactly.”

—-

The Hideout is dark and loud and warm, and you’re a bit out of place. You promised Eddie months ago you would come and watch his band play, always meaning to do so but things never lining up the right way, but tonight you were making good on that promise. 

You try to dress the part, at least to the extent your wardrobe allows, a strappy black top and a short skirt - that definitely used to fit fine but was now bordering on indecent - all covered up by a big denim jacket that you thrifted a couple years back. A bit of eyeliner smudged across your lids, messy and already creasing with the heat of the venue. 

Steve is at your side, obviously. Because he heard you were planning to go to The Hideout and there was no way he was letting you go alone, not when you look like that and the place would no doubt be crawling with creepy guys. Not that he told you all this, he just said he wanted to come along. He was always protective over you, but this felt different to him for some reason. Like, he didn’t want creepy guys to bother you, but maybe he didn’t want any guy to bother you? Those were thoughts he’d have to unpack later. 

You pull at the hem of your skirt as you linger near the outskirts of the room, shuffling from one foot to another in your doc martens that aren’t quite broken in yet. You look up at Steve through your mascara coated lashes, eyes wide a bit like a deer caught in headlights, mouth open a little with your tongue pressing against the back of your teeth. 

“You all good?” Steve has to shout a little to be heard over the music thumping through the venue, the old sound system struggling to keep up with the heavy bass. 

You nod, eyes darting between Steve and the bustling space around you. Your hands stay at the hem of your skirt, finding a loose stitch to pick and pull at as a distraction. “I think I need a drink.” 

“Yeah? What d’you want? I’ll get it for you.” Steve could see the way you were staring at the bar, it’s at least two deep the whole way along and you’re definitely smaller than at least 90% of the people waiting. It just made more sense for him to be the one to try and fight his way through. 

“Just a lemonade. Unless they don’t card, then I’ll have a beer. But lemonade's totally fine.” The words fall out of your mouth quickly, the heat of the room suddenly sticking to your chest and making you feel flushed. 

“Okay, just wait here and I’ll be back.” Steve steps away, but turns back to put his hands on your arms. He locks his eyes with yours, your pupils still blown from the dim lighting. “Right here.” 

“Right here.” You look down at your shoes and then back up to Steve, giving him a reassuring smile that you weren’t going to move. 

You watch Steve make his way to the bar, feeling a bit exposed now you’re standing alone. He turns back to you from his spot in the queue - if you could even call it that - only briefly, just to check you’re okay and haven’t moved. 

It doesn’t take Steve that long to get served, probably about ten minutes from him leaving you to actually having the drinks in his hands. He tried to keep an eye on you, but the closer he got to the bar the more people crowded behind him and blocked his view. So he curses himself a little when he finally breaks through the mass of bodies to see you talking to some guy. Some guy who is definitely at least ten years older than you, and is definitely drunk. 

“Um yeah, my friend is in one of the bands playing tonight.” You try to be polite, making small talk has never been your strong suit but you don’t want to be rude. Especially not when you’re on your own. 

“Oh right, cool.” The guy - you think his name is Mark? He did tell you but you didn’t really listen - nods enthusiastically. “Just a friend, though? No boyfriend?” 

“I, erm -“ You laugh awkwardly, not really sure what to say. You want to lie, it’d be the easiest way to end this conversation. But you’re even worse at thinking fast than you are at small talk. 

You don’t have to lie though, or say anything at all, because Steve is back at your side and standing so close your body’s are practically pressed together. He holds out a cup for you to take without a word, and as soon as you take hold of it his arm snakes around your waist to hold you to him. 

“Hey, honey. Who’s this?” Steve looks between you and the other man who’s now looking much less interested in talking and much more interested in leaving.

“Oh, I was just telling him that we know Eddie.” You dodge the question of who he is, because you can’t give a real answer. 

“Right, and that’s it?” Steve sips his drink, not taking his eyes off the guy in front of you.

“Relax dude, I get it. I don’t want your girl.” Mark, or maybe it was Matt, holds his hands up before he skulks off back into the crowd, most likely to find his friends or another girl to try and hit on. 

Hearing the phrase your girl makes your head spin, especially with Steve’s arm so tight around your waist and his body pressing into yours. You take a deep breath and a shaky sip of your drink as you try to calm yourself, because everything is fine. Steve is here and people think you’re together and it’s so fine. 

“You alright?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you somehow closer to him as he speaks. 

“Yeah, thanks Stevie.” You grin up at him, the low lighting doing you a favour by covering up the pink that was spreading over your cheeks. 

“You didn’t wanna speak to that guy, right? Because you can totally speak to any guy you want, he just looked a bit…” He trails off, scrunching his face a little and shrugging in place of words.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t want to, I’m here with you.” The words come out before you really think about them, your eyes widening a little as soon as you realise what you’ve said. 

Steve doesn’t seem to react, if he heard what you said - or more so what you meant - he doesn’t show it. “Okay, good. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

You just smile at him, enough confirmation that you are happy. Perfectly content just in his presence. Even if the room is too close and the beer is kinda warm and you feel like you’re dressed up in a costume instead of your clothes. 

When you see Eddie walk out onto the stage you step away from Steve, tugging on his hand to pull him closer so you can actually watch your friend and hopefully get his attention to prove that you held up your promise and came out to a show. 

Even when you settle in a spot close to the stage, you don’t drop Steve’s hand, and he doesn’t drop yours. Your plastic cup in one hand and Steve in the other, it all feels a bit surreal. Maybe it’s the heat making your brain a little mushy. 

You manage to catch Eddie's eye at some point, grinning and holding your drink up at him. He looks between you and Steve, down at your conjoined hands, and nods dramatically with a wide smile. You’re going to have to tell him it’s not what it looks like later, not sure how to articulate that with just one hand and facial expressions. 

It’s nice seeing your friend so in his element, the energy of the room lifted by the band's energy on stage. You feel bad for waiting so long to come and watch, even if it was always out of your control. 

Their set isn’t too long, only five songs, but they really make the most of their slot. The whole place seemed to get involved, everyone cheering when they finally finished up and headed off the small stage. 

“You wanna get some air?” Steve asks, some loose hairs falling into his face as he looks down to you. 

“Yeah, s’pretty hot in here.” 

Steve leads you through the crowd, still holding onto your hand, and out through the venue doors into the parking lot. There’s a few people outside smoking, little groups gathered together all talking and drinking and looking like they belonged. It made you laugh a little to think about what you and Steve must look like here. 

“That was fun, Eddie is so good.” You look down at the almost empty cup in your hand, swirling the remaining liquid around in it til it nearly splashes over the sides. 

“Yeah, it was. Don’t think I’ll become a regular here though.” Steve laughs, giving your hand a squeeze as if to acknowledge that he is still holding it. You try not to read into it.

“Yeah, the place doesn’t really scream ‘Steve Harrington’.” You shrug, finally drinking the last of your beer. If it wasn’t warm when you first got it, it definitely was now. 

You see Eddie walk outside and finally release Steve’s hand to skip over and hug him, already wishing you hadn’t let go because what if he doesn’t hold it again. You push the thought out of your head and try to focus on Eddie. “That was so good Ed’s, you looked so cool.”

“Thanks short stack.” Eddie leans back to pat you on your head. “‘Bout time you finally came.”

“I know, I don’t break promises.” You speak matter-of-factly, face all serious as you cross your arms over your chest.

Steve was beside you again, though not so close this time. “Good job, Munson. Guess you’re not all talk.” He teases, Eddie giving his shoulder a playful

shove in response. 

“It’s good to see you two together. About time.” Eddie points between you and Steve, and your chest tightens as you process what he’s said. 

“Oh, no, we’re not-“ You laugh, but it comes out awkward and forced and you look between Steve and Eddie and the floor and try to bargain with the powers that be to strike you down. 

“Oh, shit, my bad.” Eddie looks around the parking lot, pressing his lips together as he sighs. “Better hurry it up Harrington, or someone else’ll snap her up.” He pats Steve on the back, and you look at him like he’s gone absolutely insane. 

Steve nods, a weak laugh at Eddie's comment giving nothing away about how he feels about it. 

You take a deep breath through your nose, hoping the cool night air might stop you from passing out on the spot. 

“I better get back inside, have a good night kids. Stay safe.” Eddie waves you off as he walks back inside, disappearing into the dark room and leaving you outside with all the tension and awkwardness in the air that he’d put there. You’d be mad at him if he wasn’t such a nice guy. 

You and Steve are both quiet for a minute, and you think this is finally it. You’d managed to keep your friendship untouched by your feelings for so long but it’d finally come crashing down. 

“Reckon we head home?” Steve cocks his head as he looks down at you, you must look a sorry state given the pity filled smile he’s giving you. 

“Yeah, probably for the best.” Your voice is quiet, and you drag your feet along as you walk to Steve’s car. You toss your cups away in a bin along the way, all over dramatic and woeful as you sigh with the movement. 

The drive home was quiet. Steve would try and spark up a conversation but your brain was whirring and everything felt like too much and you could barely force a coherent sentence out. 

When you finally arrive at Steve’s house, and your house respectively, you feel frozen in your seat. Because what if you get out and go home and that’s that? Steve stops giving you rides to work and stops watching movies with you and stops letting you stay in his bed when you drink a little too much and don’t want to be alone. 

Steve says your name, and you force yourself to stop spiralling in your own thoughts to look over at him. “I had a really nice time tonight.” 

“Really? You didn’t think the place was a bit gross?” You pulled the sleeves of your jacket down over your hands, holding them in your lap.

Steve laughs, shaking his head at you. “The Hideouts always been gross. I had a really nice time with you.” Even under the dim street lights Steve can see your puzzled expression, brows pinched together and a little pout on your lips. 

“Well, yeah, we always have a nice time Stevie. S’why we’re friends.” 

Steve sighed, because you were right. But it’s not what he was trying to say. He was never all that good with his words, and he also didn’t really know exactly what he wanted to say. “Y’know what Eddie said?”

“We don’t have to talk about it, it’s just Eddie, he just says stuff.” You can’t make eye contact as you speak, in half a mind to just bolt from the car, hop your fence and lock yourself in your house for the rest of your days.

“Well, yeah, he does. But I guess lately I’ve been thinking about it, about us.” 

You swear your heart was moments away from actually bursting from your chest it was beating so hard, your hands feeling clammy as they gripped tightly onto the denim of your jacket sleeves. “What about us?” 

“Just that we’re so close, you know? You’re my best friend, but then sometimes, lately, I look at you and it feels different.” Steve tries to gauge your reaction to his words, but your eyes are staring down at your hands in your lap and your hair is falling so that it covers your face. Maybe he’s got this majorly wrong, completely misread things between the two of you. 

“Different how?” All you can manage is stupid questions pushing him for more, for him to just be clear and concise and put you out of your misery. 

“Different like sometimes I think I want to kiss you.”

You stop fiddling with your jacket then. The words hitting you in the chest like a semi-truck. You’re not sure you actually heard him right, because you’ve been so certain all this time that your feelings were one sided. A hopeless crush that would just burn in your chest forever, longing for more but never getting it. 

“You think you want to? Or you want to?” You finally look up at Steve, turning slightly in the passenger seat so you’re facing him. Seeing the way he’s looking at you, so full of affection and like you put the stars in the sky, makes your stomach flutter like there’s a hoard of butterflies in there waiting to be set free. 

“I want to.” Steve breathes the words out, soft spoken like if he says them too loud it’ll scare you away. “If you want me to.” 

Your mouth hangs open a little as you try to speak, words failing you completely. So you just nod, blinking quick a few times to make sure you’re actually awake and this isn’t just a cruel dream. “Yeah, I want you to.” You eventually manage, your voice cracking a little. 

Steve moves carefully, his hand cupping your cheek so softly it’s almost as if he’s not touching you at all. You breathe in deep through your nose, closing your eyes in anticipation. You’re still not entirely convinced it’s happening until you feel his lips press against yours. 

It’s slow and shy at first, a little unsure of what’s allowed when you’re kissing your best friend, when you finally cross that boundary. You tilt your head into his hand some more, as if to say it’s okay, permission to kiss you the way you’ve been dreaming about. 

Your hand moves to Steve’s jaw, thumb running along his cheek against the stubble that was there after a couple of days of not shaving. You part your lips a little, and Steve takes your movements as a green light. He kisses you a little harder now, still gentle but with more behind it. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip making your breath hitch in your throat. 

It’s a simple kiss, nothing crazy or wild but it’s just what you want. Because it was Steve, and he wants you. 

When he finally pulls his mouth away from yours, he rests his forehead against your own. “Was that okay?” 

You can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a ridiculous question to you. Of course it was okay, God, it was so much more than okay. “Yeah, Stevie, it’s okay.” 

“So I can do it again?” 

You’re both whispering, faces still so close that you don’t need to speak any louder. “Yeah, any time.” 

Steve presses another gentle kiss to your lips, just a quick one this time but still as full of affection as first. You have to blink hard when he properly pulls away from you to try and stop your head from spinning. 

“I wanna do this properly, y’know. Not just kiss you in my car. I wanna take you on a real date, wine and dine you.” Steve nudges your chin with his finger, head cocked to the side as he looks at you.

“I don’t really like wine.” You shrug. “I’ll give it a try though.” 

“You’re a real trooper.” 

“Anything for you.” You smile sweetly, and you mean it. You think you’d do absolutely anything for Steve Harrington. But it’s fine, because he’d do absolutely anything for you, too.

thank u so much for reading + thank u to the anon for the song rec / request <3

[pianostarinwonderland]

skully who r u [fae skully + a ramble on his possible background]

we have less than a day before we get the ending for this event and IM. NOT READY. im not ready to hear about how skully is a person from the past (and we're thinking 200 years or so), nor am i ready to go back to twst to hear that he's dead in our time and he's really the founder of modern halloween that nrc celebrates

... that's assuming he's human tho

and fortunately or unfortunately, there's hints that twst has been dropping that leads us to think otherwise

firstly: ears WHERE

in his live2D, you dont get to see his ears At All. not even a hint of an ear lobe. we know twst to be very detailed and deliberate with their designs so why did they choose to hide his ears

in his illustration, u can see a hint of an earlobe, but it's still very much covered

and as we know, when we look at malleus and lilia ears, we Know that they have pointy ears marking their pure fae ancestry. soooo skully..????? 🤨 fae skully real?????

i partly market the fae skully agenda bc PLS. WHAT IF... MEET . . .. .. IN OUR TIME. .. .. .. .... . PLS... . ... . .. . ..... 🥺 WE SEE HIM ALIVE BUT A LIL OLDER AND WAUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH pls i cant handle this yall

secondly: there is still that part in Episode 1-4 of skully saying to us "moshi... ne, moshi" instead of "moshimoshi", and a lot of ppl shared that the belief of supernatural beings not being able to address someone more than once is at play here. which would at least indicate to us that skully is at least not ur regular human being. and that is one thing about skully that we Can be sure about

on what skully may be, myonmyon put out a thread about how skully may be at least inspired by the Fear Gorta, a fae whose folklore was created from the irish famine. it's characterized by a skeletal appearance who wears tatters and rags. it can be benevolent or malevolent, but if u treat it kindly, it will bestow good blessings upon you. Fear Gorta also refers to Hungry Grass, which, if one steps on a cursed patch of grass (which i assume the fae created), they will always be hungry, no matter how much they eat, and will eventually die from starvation

ok why the irish famine? myonmyon and a few other theorists on twitter have speculated on skully possibly being inspired by (or maybe even being the twst equivalent of) the irish immigrants who moved to america, and from there, the tradition of halloween spread, resulting in the modern halloween that we know of today. it makes sense too given skully's character of spreading halloween to his fellow peers, who don't know what halloween is

oh but i don't mean to end this post here, no not yet. because there's a really interesting thread that i also found by Y_wwwsomething about how skully even got his viewpoint of halloween. i do like this thread because they kinda argue against skully's halloween being based on samhain, which a lot of people initially thought that that was his halloween. but samhain, even if it does have its scary side, is still a festival with feasting and noise, still very unlike skully's halloween. if anything, they suggested that the briar valley halloween is much closer to samhain.

my personal conclusion was that skully's halloween is based on all hallow's eve, and he's from a catholic family who celebrates halloween in a solemn manner. however, this thread is suggesting that skully idolizes the victorian british gentlemen and consequently the victorian halloween

let's look into the victorian halloween first. we note that the victorian halloween that was celebrated was often done by the upper class. several online sources will tell you that their halloween parties is, funnily enough, purposed for matchmaking. many halloween games involved girls looking into their futures, whether it's eating apples at midnight while looking at the mirror or looking at whatever object is in their apple or cake to see if they'll marry or die alone. halloween for them is less focused on fright and more on lover's passion.

however! their halloween parties are also dramatic in that they turn off the lights and only leave candles on, and when they greet guests, it's either by putting their own hand on the guest's shoulder or a glove filled with sawdust.

so we could have a situation here where skully, just like jack with christmas, may have observed one (1) party and misunderstood the victorian halloween, taking from it only the scary aspect and mixing it with any prior beliefs he may have had. it doesn't yet explain why he spent halloween alone, and tbh the catholic halloween celebration alone is already a near exact match of skully's definition of halloween, so im not very on board with this. could be that they are also loose enough to be festive? but im not sure

but im very interested about skully's possible reverence for the british gentlemen, which inspired his love for jack skellington! in the victorian era, they were defined by their birth (so if they were born to aristocratic parents), but men could also make themselves into gentlemen by growing their wealth and influence. some men have occupations that are respected enough to call them gentlemen (i.e. army members, members of the parliament). eventually the definition of a gentleman is one who received education from certain elite universities, but this is towards the end of the victorian era, so when trying to become a gentleman back then, it was much harder. so of course men tried to climb to become gentlemen. charles dickens actually wished to be recognized as a gentleman and so he wrote about it in great expectations.

and this is what interests me: during the irish famine, it's noted that british rule still stood on ireland, and if anything, the british elite even worsened the irish famine as they controlled trade between them. irish goods were exported out to britain and other countries while the people had nearly nothing, which either killed them off or pushed them to migrate. interestingly, british penal laws had it that irish catholics especially were suppressed—among their laws included that their land and home were confiscated by the british parliamentary officials in ireland

so what am i trying to get at here? it's that there's probably a nonzero chance that skully looked up to the gentlemen of britain... or if we're thinking in twst terms, the gentlemen of the queendom of roses. and this may be influenced by whatever was going on in his hometown, whether it's something akin to the irish famine and colonization or something else. a desire to be free? a desire to be more than what he is right now? it would very much be similar to sally and jack: sally, in how she wanted to be free from dr. finkelstein's controlling parenting, and jack in how he wanted to not just be the pumpkin king and tried to take over christmas. it also sort of mirrors leona's and jamil's desires for themselves too, how they want to be free to do the things they want to do and make an impact around them

what's even yummier is considering that if skully is a fae, or at least a nonhuman creature that has a distinctive ear shape, then he might take shame in his fae nature as he may perceive that the ideal gentleman is a human, which is similar to how sebek takes shame in his human nature. hence, his ears would be covered by his hair in order to hide this and mingle among the gentlemen.

anyway. idk how i went from "skully is a fae" to "skully is probably an irish catholic suppressed by the british colonial rule and wants to social climb hence he looks up to the ideal british gentleman, sees jack skellington in that image, and aims to be like that so that he can make something out of himself" but we ball ig

anyway, im cooked for tomorrow, im not ready yall :(

[becca-e-barnes]

As a romantic, sentimental shit, I decided to add a little spin off to the Moving In series.

While I'm not a huge fan of Christmas, Christmas Eve always felt really special to me. Christmas Eve traditions in our family have changed a lot over the years but I'm really excited to start my own! I've been trying to imagine what my perfect Christmas Eve would be like next year and it'd be pretty damn close to this.

If you celebrate it, have a lovely Christmas tomorrow! If you don't, I hope you have a wonderful day!

There's no way to keep the cat off the twinkling fairy lights on the tree. You've tried every trick the internet could offer but nothing stops her; except her own sleepiness.

After a long afternoon fighting the lights (and losing), she's curled up in the armchair, peacefully sleeping.

The tree is safe.

For now.

"Your fluffy murderer is asleep." Bucky hums contentedly, pulling you impossibly closer to him on the sofa.

"Good." It's about time. Even the TV playing Olaf's Frozen Adventure doesn't seem to be disturbing her and she loves that movie.

You're surprised the heat hasn't knocked Bucky out yet. Between your body heat, the matching pyjamas you're both wearing and the glowing embers of the fire, you're surprised he's not asleep too.

"What's Santa bringing tomorrow?" Bucky teases, running his hand from your hip to your waist, slipping his hand under you top and letting it rest there.

"I don't know! Hopefully the stand mixer I asked for... Maybe some baking supplies... Some cat treats maybe." You smile at the thought and feel Bucky laughing against your back.

"That cat of yours has not made it onto the Nice List, sweetheart. No chance. Santa won't be visiting her." His lips are curled into a smile as they drift from your collar, up the back of your neck.

"She's been good the rest of the year. She's only been naughty since I put the tree up." You feel like you have to protest on her behalf, even though you know Santa will be bringing her plenty of cat treats.

"So there's hope for you too then if that's how Santa works. If he excuses short bursts of naughtiness, you might still make it." His hand trails its way back to your hip, slipping just under the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"I've been good this year and you know it!" You tease, pressing your ass back against him.

"Oh see no, this is naughty." Bucky corrects you, kissing your neck with a little more pressure.

"I don't think so. You seem to like it so this is me being nice." You wiggle your ass against the front of his pyjamas, enjoying the evidence of his interest.

"Don't argue sweetheart, that'll put you firmly on the Naughty List." He knows you hate reasoning like that.

"Well, if you've been so good this year, what's Santa bringing you?"

There's a short pause but the kissing over your neck doesn't stop.

"I don't know... I don't need anything." He didn't ask you for anything for that same reason. "I have everything I need here."

"That's gross. Grow up." You know he can't see the way that made you smile so you're free to affectionately bully him for saying it.

"You're so right." He laughs, somehow shuffling even closer to you.

"I'm sure if I got down on my hands and knees in front of the tree and looked right in at the back, I could find a gift with your name on it." You go back to rubbing your ass against his crotch, tempting him to escalate.

"Sweetheart, that view alone would be enough of a gift." He's got a special way of making you feel like a temptation, without ever objectifying you. God, he's wonderful. "But I want to see that pretty face. I want to lay you down under your tree and unwrap my gift properly."

"Unwrapping your gift early will put you on the Naughty List!" You try to feign disgust at the very suggestion but really, that's all you want.

"Then I'll be the happiest man on the damn Naughty List this year." He laughs, scooping you up and laying you down on the plush carpet.

"You're more of a terror than the cat." You giggle before his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you with an intensity you really quite enjoy. His tongue slips past your lips, rubbing against your own and it's almost dizzying to start so intensely.

Your fingertips dig into his broad, muscular back and shoulders. It's easy to let need cloud your brain and he doesn't seem to mind as he sheds his pyjama top.

"We aren't matching anymore." You smile, reaching for the bottom of your own top, pulling it off in one swift motion.

"Excuse me. You're unwrapping my present for me." Bucky pretends to be horrified but your decision has its perks. He's now got full access to your breasts and it's like Christmas came early for him.

He wastes no time, sucking and kissing and licking your breasts. His tongue flicks over your stiff nipples, enjoying the way the sensation makes you squeal and writhe under his mouth.

"Bucky... Please." You whine after a while, desperate for him to move on.

"Someone's needy." Bucky smiles, raising an eyebrow before he reaches down to remove the bottom half of your pyjama set.

Fuck, he's not wrong. His fingertips trail against your sex, checking to see whether you're as aroused as you sound and he's almost surprised to find you are.

"God, you're so wet. I'm going to make this pretty little pussy gush for me." He slips a thick finger into you, followed by a second and he's thrilled to realise you'll be able to take him already. He can take the edge off for you now and then take his sweet time licking his own load out of your fluttering cunt once he's given you what you need.

"Please." You whimper, noticing he's offered you nothing awfully useful. He hasn't curled his fingers to stroke your walls, he hasn't moved at all actually.

"I wanted to take my time with you." Bucky begins, removing his fingers and taking off his pyjama bottoms. "But that's not what you want right now, is it?"

You shake your head, giving in to your own desperation freely, knowing he'd want you to be honest.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Let's take good care of you." The residual heat of the fire warms your bare skin as Bucky arranges your thighs, settling himself between your legs.

"Good girl." Bucky hums, dragging his thick, bare cock through the evidence of your arousal, coating himself in the slick mess between your legs. "So pretty for me."

He watches the way your body accommodates him so willingly and your whines remind him not to keep you waiting.

His thick, leaking tip presses to your entrance and the feeling of him sliding into you is breathtaking. It always is.

Both of you stop breathing for a few short seconds until he's slid the whole way home, buried as deep inside you as your bodies will allow.

"Hey, look at me." Bucky whispers, holding the side of your face gently with one hand, making you realise you'd closed your eyes.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He begins to pull back slowly before pressing back in, setting a slow rhythm.

If feels wrong not to tell him the same. It's wrong not to tell him how wonderful you think he is. It's not fair to let the moment pass without mentioning that you love getting to do this with him and be vulnerable but still feel safe. You love having him in your space and spending time together and getting to enjoy these tender, intimate moments at the most random of times. But those aren't thoughts for now. Those are thoughts for when you're both fully satisfied and cuddling together, breathless and tired and entirely aglow on this same carpet later this evening.

That feels right.

"You are the most incredible man I've ever met." You reply instead, tugging gently on his soft, dark hair to pull him into a kiss.

You hear him groan against your lips, offering the same intensity as before. He speeds up his thrusts to match his mouth, sliding in and out of you with purpose and a delightful need to spill his release into you as he's coaxing yours from you.

"Play with yourself." His instruction is clear and driven by his own need. He needs to feel you cum before he can allow himself to do the same and his orgasm really seems to have snuck up on him.

Your hand slips between your bodies with a practiced ease, finding the little bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing it in tight circles.

"Good girl. Fuck, I wish you knew how you feel. So wet and soft and warm." He hasn't taken his eyes off your face and that only lets you see how pleasure is evident all over his. He's almost overwhelmed and it's so lovely to watch.

"Fuck, I'm so close." You whine, begging him not to change a single thing. Not his pace, not his angle, nothing. This is perfect.

"Cum for me, sweetheart. Go ahead, I'm right behind you. I've got you."

The release is all consuming for a good few seconds, your body fluttering and twitching, milking Bucky's from him and he so willingly gives it to you. He groans gentle praises as he works both of you through your highs, taking every ounce of pleasure he can get from you while giving you as much as possible.

When your peak and his have both subsided, he slips out of you, giving himself a second to catch his breath.

"If you weren't on the Naughty List before, you definitely are now." You giggle, kissing his forehead repeatedly.

"I'm just getting started." He smiles, kissing your lips before moving down your body to kiss between your thighs.

[riniworld]

Can you please make a part 2 of the Heart Stealer? Its okah tho if you don't want to! It was just a really good story!

Have a nice day and don't forget to drink water!

heart stealer pt.2

yandere!crown prince oc (emperor) x maid!reader

warnings|| sexual harassment,blood,stabbing, swearing, very very rush at the end.

reference|| you,y/n, she/her.

a/n|| blame c.ai for this fic, i never imagined I'll write a sexual harassment in my life

++ I'm really happy that alot of people liked the previous part! and thank you for requesting,i never would have completed it without your motivation!

(p.1)

the past three days went awkwardly, everyone started to treat you not just better, but in a respect that started to feel uncomfortable, as well as your parents worried questions.

taron start to get more clingy,you admit that he's charming and getting his attention is everyone's dream, but he's showering you with expensive gifts that you wouldn't afford in your life, and that makes you feel...weird.

the coronation ceremony came,the traditional events was calm, the servants took this time to rest, but the afterward ball was chaotic,more than twelve servants was there just for serving drinks and you were on of them, who thoughts there was alot of nobles in the world?

taron was talking to a friend from his when he got bored and start looking around for anything to get him out of there,and that when his eyes fell on you as you were giving a drink to someone and smiling...smiling! for someone else! too close!, taron didn't hesitate nor did he think when he charged to your side, in an instant he's in front of you, gripping your arm tightly which caused the tray and the glasses on it to fall to the ground,and scratched your legs.

"what are you doing here?!,to my room!" taron shouted and made everyone look at you two.

"your majesty-" "now!." you pause looking at him with fear, he has never yelled at you not even when you come for the first time.

he grit his teeth in anger and dragged you out of the hall,leaving everyone in confusion.

he didn't care about the scandals nor the rumors that his action might cause, all he think about is taking you away from there, from anyone's watch.

"your majesty, may i know why are you angry at me? what have i done wrong?" you asked, raising your voice because of the pain his grip on your arm causing.

he didn't answer instead kept dragging you along with him, when you reached his room he throws you in,not in an enough force to knock you back, but enough to make you stumble on your feet, he closed the door aggressively behind him and glared at you, before you can utter a word he speak.

"what were you doing there?" he isn't shouting, but his tone holds anger that terrify you.

"i was-i was helping-" "who told you to help?!" he cut you off. "..what-i thought."

"you do not think!, should i carve it in your body?, you are MY maid, MY property, I am the only one who have the right to tell you what to do and where to work, and you are here just for me, your work is to serve me not anyone else!."

you press your lips together and look at the ground, knowing that throwing excuses is pointless, taron sigh in irritate, his eyes darts to your scratched legs and his heart stops,he steps closer to you taking your hands in his, guid you to his bed, sits you on it and takes some bandages from the drawer next to the bed as he kneel down in front of you.

"your majesty!" you put your hands on his shoulders making him glance at you "for the love of god! what are you doing?!"

"you talk alot." he says in annoyance,pushing your hands back,he took your shoes off and began treating the scratches, it wasn't anything big, maybe it bleed a few drops of blood but it's nothing gonna last more than two or three days,but still he was the reason of this, and for what? it wasn't your fault, you're just...naive, in a dangerous world, but you were lucky enough to fall in his hands.

after he finished, he stands up and but the bandage in it's place, you tried to stand up as well but he pushed you back down "you stay here." he said those three words and left you alone.

taron made his way to the throne room,to find it empty,his assistant comes to his side as soon as he enter.

"your majesty" he greets and bow "i thought it would be best to get everyone out of here.", taron nods and sits down on one of the tables" good, you did good." taron says as he sigh.

"by the way, you know that 'noble' that drinks too much, what was his name?" taron asked

"does your royal majesty mean Thomas Hezekiah?"

"yes, this, his name is so difficult."

"may i know why your majesty asks about him?."

"i have an idea....and it is crazy"

you were in the throne room cleaning it, while taron was reviewing papers, it's mostly about complaints from the folks, you think.

someone's knock on the door startled you, taron's assistant came in, he bowed before he speak "your majesty,the one you requested has arrived."

"let him in."

a man dressed in a fine clothes, and alot of gold, enters with a big grin on his face,the man bow his head.

"your majesty requested my present?" the man says.

taron move the papers to the side and gesture to the chair in front of him., when the man sits down, taron motion for you, you left everything in your hand and ran to his side.

"yes, your majesty?"

"hospitalities our guest as he deserves."

you bow your head to the two of them and walked out of the room.

"so, your majesty, may i know why you requested seeing me? not everyday an almighty emperor request seeing a simple noble as me."

"i want you to do me a thing....from your 'work' "

thomas raise an eyebrow "oho? the emperor has some issue?"

"yes or no?..no wait, you do not have a choice here, you will do it."

"i was not planning on refusing, but what will i gain from it?."

before taron could replay you entered pushing a cart that was full of all sort of drinks and sweets, thomas eyes was glued to you as you put the foods and drinks on the table.

"you must be new, i have not seen you around before." thomas says.

you look at taron before answering,seeing as his expressions is calm untill now "yes,i am new,mister.thomas, i believe?"

"and how old are you?."

"turning nineteen soon,sir"

"cut the talk, we have more important matters to talk about." taron says "y/n." he motion for you to come closer to him,you bow to his level "your majesty?"

"in the third drawer next to my bed you will find a dagger, bring it." taron whisper.

dread washes over you at that as you mutter "a-a dagger?"

"you heard, so go bring it." he demanded.

with a deep breath you walk quickly to taron's room, leaving the two to continue their talk.

"so y/n, is it?" thomas says.

"what do you want with it?" at this rate the irritation in taron's tone was clear.

"might be my prize, eh?" thomas grin widened.

"you will do it either way, but to keep good terms between us...i should agree."

"generous emperor, generous." thomas cooed "and like that, it is a deal."

you entred the room holding the dagger to your chest, before you can give it to taron he walks out of the room, pausing just before closing the door to give you a look.

you kept looking at the door for a minute before a voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

"well, dear, how about you come here?" thomas says

"pardon?" you say in confusion.

thomas stands up from his seat and walks to you trapping you between him and the door.

"you're such a beautiful lady, a shame to be wasted right?." his hands went to your waist,but you managed to push him away, not enough for him to fall down but enough to give you time to ooen the door and run away, unfortunately for you he pulls you back before you could take a step away, your head hit the ground hard but you could worry about that later when thomas climbed in top if you and closed the door with his feet.

"hard to get, it will be such joy to see you break." he says.

fear and panic filled you, where is taron? it's impossible for him to leave for him on purpose, when will he return?!

your mind stop when thomas buried his face in your neck, you couldn't think clearly when you stabbed him with taron's dagger on his back, you take it out when thomas screamed and roll away from you,he looked at you in anger "you little bitch!" he shout,you stabbed him again when he take a step closer to you, this time on his chest as he fell on the ground,motionless.

at the same time, taron was panicing in the other room,pacing around.

"what was i thinking, what if she was too scared to do it?! how can i be so sure??."

"please calm down your majesty, I'm sure it will go as you please." his assistant says.

"I will go check on her." taron say as he made his way to the door but before he can go out his assistant stopped him "your majesty, ten more minute, i am sure the plan will go as we want, let us wait." with a groan taron back up and sits back on a chair.

after exactly ten minute, taron charged to the throne room he pushed the door open harshly as he yell your name "Y/N!"

you were on your knees, beside a motionless thomas who's sinking in his blood, your eyes wide with terror as you kept looking at your hands.

taron kneels beside you, he put his arms around your shoulder "y/n, are you okay? look at me." he took your face in his hands making you look at him "are you hurt? nothing of that is your blood right? he did not touch you, did he?." he says quickly without taking a breath.

you nod slightly enough for him to notice, your eyes start tearing up.

taron let out a breath and hugs you "oh god." he helped you to stand up, he kept his arms around you as you two walk together, he stopped for a moment in front of his assistant "take this bastard out of here." he says.

taron lead you to his room, resting you on his bed, when you came to your senses you start crying and sttutering "your-your majesty-i-i do not-" your voice break in sobs.

taron hugs you again and shush you "shhh, it is okay, don't think about it, i am here, no one will be able to hurt you again, never"

a silent fell on the two of you, tarom kept holding you untill you calmed down a bit "we should take you out of here." he says all of a sudden.

"what-?" you say in a broken voice filled with confusion.

"I am sure he did not die,and when-"

"he did not die?!" you cut him off, knowing he didn't die make you ease a bit.

"no, he did not, thatwhat they told me, anyway, if he woke up, he will of course demand to hold a trial, and he will win if he did, before you say, yes i can, of course,prevents this from happening, but then everyone will think they can get away with what they do."

"but your majesty-i-i did not mean to do it, he-he.." before you can complete what you wanted to say he holds your face "i know, that is why I am taking you away, i have a mansion in the forest, I will take you there, you will live there, and i will make sure to have whatever is you need, i will visit you from time to time too." taron explain in a surprising gentle tone.

you didn't have a choice here, leaving your family will be hard, but staying will lead to either your death or trouble for everyone, or your parents death if you think it in another way, so you nod, accepting your fate.

taron smiles "forever mine, to see and to hold." was the only thing on his mind

after all no plan taron mad has ever faild.

"do not worry dear, you will be saver than ever."

have a nice day/night♡

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Birthday Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Not proofread. Rush translation.

Mitsuki: "So, Galileo."

Mitsuki: "Do you have a favorite food? It could be a dish or an ingredient."

Galileo paused from eating and turned toward me with a slightly puzzled expression.

Galileo: "Why are you suddenly asking me that?"

Mitsuki: "Well, your birthday is coming up, right? I thought I'd make something you really enjoy."

Galileo: "Birthday."

Galileo: "I see, from this year on, you'll be here with me."

Mitsuki: "Yep."

It will be the first birthday we spend together since our feelings became mutual.

That's why I'm eager to make it special.

Mitsuki: "Actually, I wanted to surprise you by making something, but then I realized I still don't know much about you."

Galileo: ".........."

Even though my feelings for him kept getting stronger, I still didn't know much about him.

As I lowered my gaze in frustration, a cool hand touched my cheek.

Galileo: "Don't make that face. From now on, we'll get to know each other little by little."

(Little by little, huh? He's right.)

Even that gentle smile of his was something I couldn't have seen not too long ago.

Mitsuki: "Okay, thanks."

Returning his smile, he nodded and neatly placed his cutlery on the plate.

Galileo: "Oh, right. For my birthday, could you prepare schiacciata with grapes?"

Mitsuki: "Schiacciata?"

Galileo: "Yeah. In some regions, it's also called focaccia."

Mitsuki: "Ah, I know focaccia, but I've never had one made with grapes."

Galileo: "It's a traditional pastry from my hometown. You won't really find it around here."

Mitsuki: "I see. That makes sense."

(Wait, but how am I supposed to make it?)

(Maybe I should check the bookstore or the library.)

Then, as if sensing my little dilemma, Galileo spoke up.

Galileo: "Don't worry. There should be a recipe in the local history book in my room."

Mitsuki: "That's great! Thank you."

I sighed in relief at his words.

Galileo: "To put it simply, it's made by layering dough with grapes and baking it."

Galileo: "However, you should use grapes meant for winemaking, not the kind for eating raw."

Galileo: "My hometown is known for its grape cultivation. My family often made it."

Mitsuki: "So, it's a taste filled with memories of your family."

Galileo: "Yeah."

(I'm so happy that he requested a dessert with such sentimental value.)

I learned one more thing about him.

Mitsuki: "Got it."

Mitsuki: "I'll start practicing tomorrow, and on the day of your birthday, I'll treat you to a delicious schiacciata!"

Galileo: "I'm looking forward to it."

(If I'm going to do this, I want to be particular about the grapes. But fresh grapes for winemaking might not be available at the market. Oh, I know!)

I made a suggestion as an idea struck me.

And so, the day of his birthday arrived.

Mitsuki: "Wow, the air smells nice!"

We'd escaped the bustle of Paris and traveled to a vineyard in the countryside.

Galileo: "The grapes are in good condition. It looks like this year's harvest will be a good one."

Vineyard Owner: "Yes. The weather's been kind to us this year, and I'm confident it'll be a remarkable vintage."

This little trip was the very suggestion I'd made to him that evening.

He agreed and even rescheduled his university lectures.

(I'm so glad I was bold enough to invite him. Galileo looks like he's enjoying himself.)

On top of that, we were able to get fresh grapes, and I got to spend the entire day with him.

Galileo: "The vineyard on the other side of the river looks like it has lower hedges."

Vineyard Owner: "That's because they're a different variety. The soil on the other side of the river is completely different from here."

The friendly vineyard owner led the way, explaining as we followed him through the fields.

Vineyard Owner: "But even with the same climate, the grapes here achieve a perfect balance of sweetness and acidity, just like on the other side."

Galileo: "The soil, huh?"

Suddenly, he stopped walking and crouched, running his hand through the soil to feel its texture.

Galileo: "This side seems to be a clay-rich soil, retaining just the right amount of moisture."

Vineyard owner: "Yes, thanks to that, the wine we make here has a smoother, fruitier flavor and is easier to drink."

Galileo: "I see."

He stood up again, gazing back across the river.

Galileo: "Judging by the terrain, the other side is probably gravelly soil. If that characteristic is a product of the soil's water retention ability, then the wines produced on the well-drained opposite bank would likely be rich and deep-flavored."

Vineyard Owner: "----!"

Galileo: "You're utilizing the unique characteristics of each soil type in your cultivation."

(Wow. He can even predict how the wine will taste just by looking at the soil.)

Vineyard owner: "I'm impressed! You've got quite an eye, sir. I'd hire you at our château if you ever wanted a job."

Galileo: "I'll pass, but I'll gladly take some wine as a souvenir."

Watching him enjoying himself made me smile.

Vineyard Owner: "Take your time and enjoy yourselves!"

Mitsuki: "Thank you."

We parted ways with the owner after he taught us how to choose the best grapes.

Mitsuki: "Shall we start picking?"

Galileo: "Yeah."

(I want to choose the very best-looking grapes from this vineyard.)

(The ones that are deep in color, uniform, and plump.)

As I walked, carefully examining each bunch of grapes一

Galileo: "Mitsuki."

He suddenly called my name and pulled me close, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Premium ╎ Epilogue

[lostmyremembrall]

📖

love the way you write the prompts <3 may i request prompt 18 ??

📖𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐭

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝐺𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 𝐴𝑠𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝐽𝑜𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 1𝐾 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡! Now closed

A/N: Oh my god. I am SO sorry it took this long to get to yours. Please forgive me, and I hope you'll still enjoy this.

You surprise Tom with a cat

Tom’s eyes widened at the sight that awaited him. Four tiny paws. A ball of brown fur. Large two ears. The tiny creature stared up at him, and bared its teeth as it meowed. Tom couldn’t help but jerk his head backwards 

“There he is!”

The enthusiastic voice of Abraxas greeted him when the resident Dark Lord peeked his head in through the doors of the Room of Requirement. His cautious eyes flickered around the room, reminiscent of an uneasy salamander that dared to poke its head out from underneath a rock to survey his surroundings.

“Let’s get this over with,” Tom sighed as he walked towards them, completely ignoring the birthday decorations that you, Abraxas, and Canopus had spent hours putting up.

“Of course. We won’t dare take up your valuable time any more than necessary,” Canopus responded somewhat sarcastically, approaching Tom and reaching up to put the cone hat that read ‘Birthday Boy’ on top of the disgruntled man’s head, knowing full well that he detested it. You might as well say that, for Canopus, seeing Tom in this humiliating hat was the only redeeming aspect of hosting this birthday party. 

“You never fail to make my day, Canopus,” Tom murmured quietly, his eyes coldly narrowing on the black-haired Slytherin. You had to admit, despite the comically small ‘Birthday Boy’ hat perched atop the Dark Lord, his seething glare was still enough to send a shiver down your spine.

  “Well, it’s tradition,” Canopus shrugged with a smug smirk on his lips, a brave reaction worthy of praise from a Gryffindor. You had no idea what it was that Canopus had: courage, stupidity, or simply a warped sense of fear. But, whatever it was, you couldn’t help but pity and admire it at the same time.

“So... Presents,” Abraxas clapped his hands excitedly, contently watching as the group sat around the sofas.

“Here, Tom. Happy birthday,” Abraxas beamed at Tom as he passed the wrapped package that was clearly a book from its size and shape.

Tom did not respond and tore open the paper wrapping.

“Oh. Actually… this is quite helpful,” Tom showed the book cover to you and Canopus; the title read ‘Dictatorship 101: A Beginner's Guide to Regime Change by Khalilah D Smith’. “Thank you, Abraxas. For the thoughtful gift,” Tom even managed a slight curl of his lips.

The blond looked quite pleased with himself, turning his nose slightly up in the air with a proud smile.

“Pshhh, as if our great Tom needs any instructions on becoming a dictator,” Canopus rolled his eyes. 

“I, on the other hand, got the only thing Tom needs on his destined path to greatness: Time,” Canopus added an exaggerated flourish to his hands that gestured to the box on the coffee table, ignoring the clear annoyance that flashed across Abraxas’ elegant features.

“You should know, Canopus,” Tom raised a brow as he opened the box. “Your words bring nothing but anxiety to my already troubled mind.”

You peeked in over Tom’s shoulder to find what exactly he meant by ‘time’, as Canopus dramtically worded. To your surprise, it was packets of energy drink powder.

“Ohh… nooo, Canopus…” you murmured quietly, recalling the Dark Lord’s sensitivity to caffeine. The last time he tried one cup of coffee, he stayed up for four nights in a row. “What on earth made you think this was a good idea?”

“Shush shush,” Canopus silenced your words of terror, not even giving you a glance. “Tom, remember the coffee that you had? Imagine that, but double that.”

Tom’s eyes widened in amusement as he glanced at it. “By that logic, I could conquer the wizarding world twice as fast.”

“Exactly my point!” Canopus’ eyes glimmered wildly. “You don’t trust us with a thing. And you’re right to do so. Imagine how much you could get done if you could do everything yourself.”

Tom hummed, nodding along. “You know what, Canopus? For the first time in my life, you did not disappoint.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “You two are just enabling his unhealthy obsession with power!” You grabbed Tom’s shoulders, and he slightly wobbled from left to right as your seething eyes captured Abraxas and Canopus. “What Tom needs is stability. Emotional support.”

The wincing was visible on Tom’s face as you said the word ‘emotional support’, but before he had any opportunity to protest, you presented him with a medium-sized box. Tom was bewildered by the way the box seemed to shake on its own. But still, carefully, he opened the box.

“Oh,” Tom seemed lost for words. “Oh. This is… rather… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? What is it-” but Canopus did not need to finish his question, as a small tabby kitten poked his head out of the box and pressed his paws against Tom’s eyes. 

Tom grew silent.

“You thought giving Tom a cat was a good idea?” Canopus turned his disbelieving eyes to you. “And here you were, telling me gifting energy drinks was irresponsible.”

You scowled at your friend, not noticing the kitten that had begun climbing Tom’s uniform like it was his life mission. “Well, I, as his friend who actually know him, happen to think that an emotionally volatile person like Tom needs a support animal.”

“Emotionally volatile?” Tom repeated to himself quietly, doubting his ears over the words that came from this supposed friend of his. At that moment, Tom was trying to ignore the kitten on his shoulder, who was pressing his paws against his cheek.

You had to admit, Tom was showing a surprising level of patience towards the kitten, a bitter realisation following closely behind that, perhaps, Tom tolerated the kitten more than any of his human friends. The tabby cat began to incessantly meow by Tom’s right ear, demanding his attention.

Abraxas was watching all of this with intrigued amusement in his pale eyes. “Well… let’s just hope that the cat will survive to see adulthood.”

You found the meowing rather adorable, but it was clear that Tom’s patience was quickly wearing thin. Even for kittens, the Dark Lord had his limits, it seemed. “Look, I only speak snake,” Tom barked, turning his head to the right, speaking directly to the kitten with frustration evident in his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

The kitten only responded by pressing his paws on Tom’s lips, perhaps for the first and the last time the Dark Lord was silenced. Either from rage or being overwhelmed by the kitten’s cuteness, Tom’s cheeks turned a bright red. For the sake of the kitten, you hoped it was the latter.

“Oh hey,” Canopus’ eyes widened at the kitten’s bold move. “What do you know? He might just live to see adulthood.”

Tom growled as the kitten began his climb up Mt. Tom again. “How wonderful,” he murmured darkly, his displeased eyes following the kitten’s tail that swung back and forth in front of his face as he made his way up his head. The kitten was now wrestling with the ‘Birthday Boy’ hat, fighting for his spot on top of his head.

“Not so intimidating anymore, are you Tom?” Canopus snickered as his eyes flickered

between the Dark Lord and the cat that had settled comfortably on top of his head.

Tom’s vehement glare from behind the swinging tail was quite the sight to behold. At that moment, for whatever came over its small brain, the kitten leapt off of Tom’s head and landed on Canopus’ face.

“Agh! What’s happening?!” Canopus tried to pull off the kitten while its claws dug into his face. “Get it off me!”

“Yes. Yes!” Tom’s dark chuckle echoed in the Room of Requirement, while Abraxas watched the scene in terror, his hands elegantly covering his gaping mouth. 

You could confidently say, that for the rest of your life, you would never forget the cheerful eyes of Tom when he turned to you and said, “You were right, dear. Emotional support was exactly what I needed.”

A/N: Ended up writing as a sequel of sorts to 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 ℒℴ𝓇𝒹 ℴ𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒾𝓃ℯ. Not my best writing, but hope you still enjoyed it!

[ofcowardiceandkings]

companion piece of young Link

AAHH i finally finished something :'D

i've uh had some very specific Thoughts about Zelda's childhood for a while now so its about time i put them to paper - this is actually round TWO since the original doodles are lost to ... somewhere ... i like these second editions better though so alls well that ends well

we're looking at ages around 4, 7 and 10 years old here touchin bugs in the dirt, archery practice, and playing a lyre ;w;

more detailed Thoughts under the cut 💙

iiitssss customary ranting about my BotW/TotK opinions tiiiimeeee welcome my darlingsss jfkdjfkd 💙

i had a much more solid idea about where i was going with Zelda than with Link but some of it is kinda abstract or weird lol

we know a fair amount about her upbringing in general, or can infer as much from Zelda's interactions with her father and what they and people around them wrote. she was clearly a smart and vivacious kid with a strong personality from the start, no matter how much you sort of squash that shit for the public face, repression etc. so yknow, her mother's death when she was 6, awful. her father's change in attitude especially in her teens, awful. being under public scrutiny her whole life, awful. restrictive structure of royal life, dull (i bet it bored Zelda to death at times no matter how strongly duty-oriented she is). having said that though, she got by and just by looking at her study, she clearly got stuff done to herself - you can take the kid away from the science but the science stays with the kid !!!

additionally, forgive me for mentioning ... timelines ... but in my humble onion, BotW/TotK serve as a Dragon-Break scenario which are SO far in the future from other entries that ALL timelines will inevitably converge and lead to that point, so it doesnt matter any more (i dont like extended Timeline theory, Nindooty doesnt like extended Timeline theory, the current writing team seem to want shot of it, let me be). being a history guy i also subscribe to leaning on the LEGEND aspect of 100 and 1000 year games of telephone, it makes things spicy. tradition is a strange thing, we do things we dont have much of a context for anymore, we're still living with the cultural hangovers of people living when mammoths were around and no thats not hyperbole lol its WILD. ive typed around the point enough lets get going

she was a bugs girl !!!! she still IS a bugs girl lmao but if our 16 year old girlie is gonna pounce on frogs apropos of nothing, that 4 year old girlie is gonna go catch bugs in the Royal Gardens and freak out her maids or escorts with them, good for her 💅

the other two are where my timeline thing comes in; the triforce is never mentioned by name, its just there in symbolism ?? something about the blood of the goddess ?? divine sealing powers ??? no one knows in the same vein, i like to think that its traditional for Hylian Princesses to learn archery and play a lyre or harp ... but no one remembers quite WHY ?? so Zelda does. the Priestess-Princess* role means the public is aware that Zelda had formal singing training, but its not really common knowledge outside of the Castle that the Royal Girls do THIS (no one knows why that part is important either, but it stays in the Castle). she might be a little out of practice now, but give that muscle memory enough time and she might be able to really surprise people.

*this is part of the Japanese translation, at least in Kass' final song Zelda is referred to as an term roughly meaning Priestess-Princess - which makes total sense to me

ohhh my god i talked a lot okay i just love my gorl fhjdkfjdk

actual footage of me explaining my shit and going way long

[darkdemeter]

Dem!!!demy!!! My bestie

This idea has been going around the ol' nogging for a little. But part 2 of A Warriors Armor (punk!human) where the human has been making the horsemen their own punk vests as a way to Keep themself sane. (I imagine this especially applies to death's human after he yeets himself to the well of souls).

I Also imagine that their human takes their measurements with like...a maker measuring tape/hj(everything's easier when you use the maker measurement system,aka: everything is "fuck you" big)

And the horsemen's reactions are priceless. Their little human adopted them into their punk pack??(and maybe its about time they confess)

As always take ur time,Im sure you have a lot on your hands!!

(Pd: looking forward to dark feathers SO MUCH. but take as long as you need!!!/gen)

-Jeri🧡

・issue #2・ STYLE OF WARRIOR II

⚤ Death/Strife/Fury/War x GN Punk!Reader just fluffy content with some angst ✎ 2.6k

✎ a note from the author, Death: throws himself in the well of souls Me, remembering your fic: T R I G G E R E D hahahahha! yes I still get all emotional and upset when I even think about that fic! I gotta read it again.... 😂 here you go, Jer, part 2 for your punk request!

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

For your dearest Horseman, you'd do all you humanely could to achieve what they asked of you. You'd brave the depths of hell, you'd face off the vanguards of the White City in protest of their declared 'holiness'.

But you never expected this.

DEATH

Having finally taken his measurements, it's all about fitting it to him nicely. precisely... no nasty points--

"Human," Death snarls after you jab him with the needle for the fourth time in a span of 30 seconds. It's not your fault that every time your fingers linger so close it's like his presence possesses them to tremble with violent impulse. And every time you do accidently poke him, you wince and apologise, but at this point, you may as well just stab him with the damn thing if he's going to keep carrying on like a ragged animal being prodded at intentionally.

"Then stay still," you breath back easily and roll your eyes. The insufferable nature of this reaper sometimes. Alright, you may have had to convince him a little but overall, this was his idea - his request. You're just being a good companion.

Placing the needle between your lips, you say, "I'm almost done. Back a little straighter." Your words are muffled but he overhears the tone of it and its enough for him to suffer through the remainder of his fitting in relative, blessed silence; just the way you both like it. Your eyes occasionally lift up to try and capture his expression, no matter how pointless it is with that mask, you can read the eyes at least. His gaze is elsewhere and you decide not to intrude on his thoughts.

You work better when he's not watching you with the eyes of a looming hawk anyway. You weave the last thread through the tiny hole and begin to stitch the final adjustments of his vest, but that's putting a fashion term nicely and you humour him just this once. He didn't exactly want a tradition vest like you due to the nature of his skill set and you obliged in his request, but you still kept some semblance of a vest-like quality to your craftmanship. The design ended up being a sort of an additional shawl that draped over his shoulder, but with a little artistic flare, you made the shoulder portion imitate torn sleeves.

"Are you almost finished?" he asks, almost causing you to flinch and lose control of the needle's point again. With a sigh, you nod. "Almost. Just a little stitch here... and a bit there-- and done!"

You step down off the stool because yes, he refused to crouch down to your level. Stubborn old bastard but you care about him nevertheless. You balance on the heel of your foot, nervousness flickering through the fluster of your beating lashes and the way you awkwardly angle your head down.

"What'cha think?" You suddenly take an interest in the very long, sturdy leather strip you used as a measuring tape. Alya's measuring tape.

"Hmm... I like it."

His confession could have come in an assortment of ways, and you're kind of confused by it still, but his embrace was comforting. "And I like you too."

You've never forgotten that compliment or that confession. The way it brightened your mood and turned your lips into a large smile. You'll always remember the way his eyes smiled down at you, applauding your work in the new addition of his attire.

That's what you think about as you stitch up the patches and sew new relics and decorations into the black fabric. Tears in your eyes, you find it hard to not jab your own fingers, wincing every few seconds when the sharp sting of your needle bites venomously. Now you know just how poor Death felt being pricked by you. Fond memories that now turn dark in this hour.

He's gone now. Sacrificed his very being to revive your species and to spare War a punishment to a crime he did not commit. He gave it back to you before his encounter with the avatar of corruption - his once brother, Absalom. By the time you managed to pry open the doors of the chamber, all that remained on the ground was the placid face of bone, sockets void of that vibrant amber you adored with secret fondness.

You're not sure if he will ever come back or the fate of War for that matter. The tears blanket your vision with a thickness that hinders your work, forcing you to stop. At this point, you're needlessly sewing and threat into it, reminiscing in every little detail and every tiny sensation that travels through your fingers. You begin to wonder as you lower the garb into your lap, haunted by a loud, audible sniffle, if Death knew what his fate was and that's why he finally indulged in your little scattered hints.

You'll wait for him. You'll keep adding these stitches and touch ups until the reaper returns. However long he may find rest in the well, you will wait for him.

STRIFE

The gunslinging Horsemen truly was a marvel at times. Not only did it take him exactly 48 hours to ask you if you would perhaps consider making him a punk vest. Suffice to say, your affirmative answer earned you a bone-crushing hug and a plethora of 'thank you's thereafter. Strife was excited right from the get go and eager to help you find the perfect material that was both strong and big enough to make a vest made for his size. Now to get a form of measurement...

"Alright, arms out, chest out and shoulders back."

He does exactly as you say and maybe a little too well. You take a rough estimate of his limbs and body proportions and when you ask, "Do you want me to make any alterations so it's more... suited for... y'know, your work?"

He shakes his head and his golden eyes flare with a giddiness. "Nope. Just like your one."

Eyes blinking rapidly, you take a short moment to compose your surprise. "Right. Okay then, let's see what we can do about that."

It takes a considerable amount of days but you finally get your hands on the perfect fabric and thankfully, you find some other suitable patterns and clothing to add to it and give it that punk flare. Strife particularly adores this one stripe of pattern that decorates the hem of your vest and so you do your best to replicate it, even going the extra mile in finding a similar pattern to it.

During your small sessions of camp and in your adventurous search for a measuring tape suited for his size, he watches you with that same excitement, almost fawning over your work right there and then, eyes blending to the fire's glow.

"Uh, hello? Earth to Strife." The Nephilim with spiked hair finally awakens from his dreaming stupor and addresses you. You can sense the sheepish smirk behind his mask. "Sorry, where you saying something?"

Your lips fold back into a slight grin as you shake your head. "Nah. Nothing important."

He's in awe of the delicate handle you have with the needle but fucking hell, does he whine when you so much as graze him with the needle point.

"Ow!"

"Quit your whining, I barely pricked you."

"Still... that hurt," he grumbles and you snort a little at that. His visor set aside, you're given full view of his expression which is both a good and bad thing. For one thing you can admire his handsome features, but the other means you can tell exactly what he's thinking. From the slack and slight of his brows and to the bevel between, all the way down to the small dimples that form in his cheeks with a deepened smirk.

"It's good you found a measuring tape for me," you say behind a chuckle, actually taking in just how long it was... "Where did you say you got it from?"

"I, er... found it." His reasoning doesn't add up and his eyes avoid yours.

"Yeah, that's a way to not sound suspicious, Strife." You continue to press the needlework into the craft, adding unique little strips of stitches and filling in any alterations and requests on the way. When you want him to be still, he's like a statue. Which is every tailor's dream client. You remember the countless times your mother complained about her clients being unable to stop fidgeting. Of course, Strife has his moments where he can't help it, but with a warning glare and threatening poise of the needle, he's on his best behaviour until you're done.

Indeed a very traditional vest and to say he wears it well is an understatement. It's like he was meant to be a punk. All he was missing was the vest. With a grin, you take a step back and allow him his space to take in the garment, waiting with batted breath.

"So?" you finally press to ask. He twirls around before stopping hot on his heels with a loud skrrt, flashing you with his signature finger guns and winks.

"It rocks! By the way, you know we're a couple now, right?"

Your jaw goes slack and your eyes increase tenfold in their blatant stare up at him, your face becoming flushed with a certain heat. "W-what?!"

FURY

"You know, you'd probably make a really kickass punk queen - if that was in our culture."

Could you have flattered her more? Here you go again, yapping on about how well her hair suits the culture and how she should think on it at least. It does get a bit boring sometimes when you're the only punk left in the world. After a few nights of noticing your considerable moping, she bit the bullet and upon preparing to leave the next morning, she caves in.

"Would you... like to make me a punk vest?"

With a gasp, you turn towards her in a way that causes her to flinch out of instinct when something moves that fast. "Yes!"

The task now at hand of making Fury's vest is a memorable one. Whilst she slays the hordes of hell, the seven deadly sins and gains mutual alliances, there you are in the background of it all; collecting whatever cool scraps you can fashion together. It's not like she held the jaws of gluttony apart for you just so that you could get that piece of textured fabric. It's a very beautiful piece of studded leather.

Back in the safety of Haven, Ulthan happily allows you to use the maker's measuring tape to your heart's content. Not that he really uses it much, rather knowing his know-how off the tip of his experience but to the younger maker, it could be more useful.

"Ugh, this is taking too long," Fury sighs.

With a raise of your brow, you huff in reply, "It's only been twenty minutes."

Fury only rolls her eyes but she lets you continue. You do well not to get her with the needle, only having done it once and she threatened that it'd be the last if you did it again. And so you go about her vest with the utmost care, cautious about how far your depth goes and where your needle point is aimed at all times.

"Look at you!" Jones taunts from the other side of Haven with a wicked waggle of his fingers, mimicking a playful, mischievous wave. In return, you do the same such to Fury's dismay. It says as much by the slow turn of her head in your direction, the milky whites of her glowing, Nephilim eyes glaring down on you.

Your lips pull into a thinned line and you continue your work in silence, carried on only by the sternness of her gaze that occasionally swept over you. When you finally finish her vest off, you feel a sense of relief that it's finished. Sighing, you gesture for her to have a move about in her new vest, to take it in.

"Ey? Ey?" you hum. It's not your fault that with each passing second you become more consumed by the thought of seeking her approval. Not very punk of you but for the longest time now -- and maybe because of your crush on the female Horseman -- but you have become obsessed with her opinion and moreso, her approval of the punk culture.

"Humans and their pathetic utility to craft such--" she pauses, and then slowly turns. She's observing the vest, now she's look at it closer... and she smiles!

Victory!

"This is actually... rather well made," she says, voice soothing and laced with an impressed purr. Then her eyes meet yours and you feel your heart melt, your chest swelling as the heat in your face surfaces. "I love what you did. I think you were right, I would make an excellent punk."

WAR

To make a vest for War would be putting an extreme limit on his capabilities. Besides, you'd be stitching that thing together for the remainder of your days with the way he throws himself into harm's way and dashes right towards it like a beast on the loose.

So you have to improvise. You decide to pin it here, cinch it there and around the shoulder to connect to the pauldrons and there you have it: a shawl that he can add over the top of his red one. It took many days and many sleepless nights by the fire's light to see what you were doing and your fingers are covered in tiny dots and a few makeshift bandages. But to you, it was worth it. It kept your spirits up and it made dealing with the whole end of the world thing easier to cope with when you have a personal project to work on. And War would watch you, observant but distant.

And finally, time for the final adjustments. When you first measured War, you'll admit - it was a very big undertaking to make him a punk vest. But the way his eyes looked at you like a shy puppy as he softly asked, almost mumbling his words as if unsure of how to present such a question.

You couldn't say no! So you pushed that overwhelming sense of dread when you realised just how big of a canvas you were working with. You would do this for him, to let him have his own piece of the culture and allow him to be a part of it.

By no means did he become impatient. Or at least he didn't show that side of him, but every now and then he'd check in and finally when it came time for his final fitting, you caught the slight blush on his cheeks as he stood still for you.

For the few times you accidently poked him with the needle, apologies poured out of your mouth as if you injured the most precious thing in the world, only for him to brush aside your doting concern. You'd shake and tremble a little out of worry that you'd hurt him.

"There! all done," you announce and brush a hand over your brow as you take a step back to analyse your work. "You look amazing, War!"

"You truly think so?" he asks, his voice unsure. He looks at himself however much he's able to. It's not until you direct him over to an old store window, allowing him to gauge his reflection in the splintered window.

"See?"

"Your craftsmanship is one of a kind."

You stumble over a sentence of half stringed words. Even to you they were unintelligible and so you sweep some hair that fell over your eyes away with a sheepish smile. "Thank you. Do you like it? I know it's not a traditional vest like mine, but I tried my best to keep in theme. I didn't wanna comp---"

His lips caress the delicate space between your hairline and your words immediately cease.

"I adore it. Thank you."