#their height difference just reminds me of that photo

[frugalkubal]

I didn't expect Cryonaia to be THAT tall. 😂

[kamfor334]

manifested my desired appearance!

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

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

how it happened

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

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

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

what I manifested

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

White, straight teeth, pretty smile.

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

plump, pink, soft lips

more prominent dimples

Slimmer, oval face shape.

4b, defined healthy curls hair.

longer hair.

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

slim arms, collar bones, back and neck.

how did I did it!

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

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

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

That’s it! I love youuuuuu

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

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

[whrfchnn]

에이티즈 ! ୨ KEEP IT JUICY JUICY, EAT THAT LUNCH .ᐟ

⭑ Ateez with a chubby girlfriend .ᐟ

Ateez x chubby!fem!reader (individually)

Warnings ! Not edited :( I fear I went a little overboard with the drabbles in seonghwa’s part + lil suggestive in hongjoong’s at the end also some ethel cain vibes with yunho but we love that. I’ve got a sweet drabble for each members which will be posted soon :3

Mona’s notes ! Something soft for my darlings, I hope you enjoy. 3462k words…whoops. Feedback is welcomed! I’m always looking to improve my writing so don’t be afraid to be straightforward. Reblogs are appreciated! You might like; losing my innocence in the backseat.

✦. ── kim hongjoong .ᐟ 김홍중

𖤐 Joong would 100% design clothing for you all on his own, he knows some brands are blind when it comes to size inclusivity and he hates seeing you go from super excited to self conscious when you finally get the chance to shop for clothes.

𖤐 He’ll spend hours sketching out ideas, finding the right fabrics knowing you’re sensitive to certain materials. Plus this way, he gets to include small meaningful things into his designs that only you two know about, like his initials.

𖤐 He’d constantly remind you that society’s standards are a scam, joong will make it his life mission to make you feel like the most beautiful gorgeous person in the room not only with his designs but with his actions and words of affirmations.

𖤐 I feel like his favourite feature of you would be your waist. When he brings you to a fashion event or anything, he loves wrapping his arms around you so he could slowly and gently rub the side of your tummy.

𖤐 I also feel like if you’re taller than him, he’d be so smitten.

𖤐 Literal stars in his eyes when he looks at you, adoring that soft smile on his face like, “wow…she’s really my girlfriend”.

𖤐 LIKE He loves looking up at you with that cheeky grin, resting his chin on your shoulder he be like, “And what about it?” to anyone who comments on the height difference, “She’s my goddess, of course she’s taller.”

𖤐 If you’re ever feeling down, he will pull out his camera and convince you to model for him. “Trust me, babe, you’re stunning,” he’ll say, positioning you under the best light and capturing candid moments of you laughing or simply existing. Later, he’ll compile all the photos into a little book, labeling it My Favorite Masterpiece.

𖤐 ALSO OMFG

𖤐 Istg he’d wear your initials, either on a charm bracelet, rings, or necklace. He’s wear your full name with zero hesitation or shame but you insisted on the initials for now because of his job sigh.

𖤐 Lil suggestive BUT have you seen those videos of woman doing self portraits with their body? Like sitting on the canvas butt naked with paint on them and going over it to enhance it?

𖤐 YEAH SO imagine gifting him something like that, the outline of your sweet ass and hints of your camel toe drove him up the wall. He hugged the canvas to his body when San tried to see just what was on it that sent joong into a frenzy.

✦. ── park seonghwa .ᐟ 박성화

𖤐 My love, when Seonghwa first saw you it was as if you picked him up by his neck and claimed him as yours.

𖤐 On day one my man was hooked and wanted nothing more than to show you what devotion is.

𖤐 He’s a foodie so he will ensure you eat your meals and snacks daily. I feel like he’d prepare you an over the top dish and write cute notes with it if he’s out and can’t eat with you.

𖤐 Expect self care nights, he loves to take care of you both and pamper you ranging from bubble baths and skincare routines. I’ve got a small drabble for both;

𖤐 Bubble baths !

⤷ The warm water lapped at the sides of the tub as you leaned back against Seonghwa, bubbles piling high around you. It was peaceful, the scent of lavender and vanilla filling the air. Your eyes were half-closed when you felt the subtle shift of his arm behind you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, voice lazy with relaxation.

“Nothing,” he replied, though the playful lilt in his voice betrayed him.

A moment later, you felt it—bubbles being stacked atop your head, the slick slide of foam as he carefully shaped something.

“Seriously?” you laughed, sitting up slightly to catch his grin.

“Hold still,” he teased, leaning closer to perfect his work. His brows knit together in faux concentration, lips quirked up in amusement. “I’m almost done.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but let him continue, feeling the unmistakable shape of a shark fin forming. When he finally sat back to admire his creation, the pride on his face was impossible to ignore.

“There. Perfect,” he announced with a triumphant chuckle. “My very own bubble shark.”

You turned to face him, water sloshing gently as you scooped up a handful of foam. With a quick swipe, you smeared it across his nose and cheeks, earning a gasp of mock outrage.

“Now you’re next,” you said with a smirk.

𖤐 Skincare routine !

⤷ Seonghwa’s lap was warm beneath you, your knees resting on either side of his hips as you faced him. The faint glow of candlelight flickered across the room, casting a golden hue over the array of skincare products spread out on the table beside you. The soft cotton of the Light Fury headband around your head kept your hair neatly away from your face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Seonghwa’s matching Toothless one.

“One second Princess,” he murmured, voice low and soothing as he smoothed the face mask over your cheeks with gentle fingers. His brow furrowed in concentration, tongue peeking out slightly as he carefully applied the cool, creamy mixture.

“You take this way too seriously,” you teased, though the fondness in your voice betrayed you.

“And you don’t take it seriously enough,” he countered, his lips quirking into a soft grin as he leaned back to admire his work. “There. Perfect.”

You smiled softly and but couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest as he reached for a towel to clean his hands. Before you could shift or move, his hands found their way to your waist, sliding slowly down to rest on your stomach.

The touch was light at first, his palms gliding up and down your sides, the warmth of his fingers seeping through your oversized shirt. Then he gave your tummy a soft, affectionate squeeze, his thumbs brushing over the gentle curves there.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost shy.

“Appreciating you,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours with an honesty that made your breath catch. His hands continued their slow, loving exploration, his thumbs drawing lazy patterns as he squeezed you again, this time with a little more intention. “You’re so beautiful.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, trying to hide the way his words flustered you. “We’re supposed to be waiting for these masks to dry, not… whatever this is.”

“Waiting is boring,” he said with a sly smile, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your nose. “This is better.”

You sighed, feigning exasperation, but melted into his touch as his hands stayed firm and comforting on your body, grounding you in the moment. The quiet hum of music in the background mixed with the sound of your breathing, and for a while, the world outside didn’t exist.

✦. ── jeong yunho .ᐟ 정윤호

𖤐 Just carve out his heart and eat it please. Let him become one with you.

𖤐 He’s the kind of man who views his love as sacred, almost religious. To him, loving you feels like fulfilling a divine purpose. You are his universe, his North Star, and he orbits around you willingly.

𖤐 He adores your softness—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

𖤐 He’s constantly touching you, whether it’s tracing circles on your thighs, resting his head against your stomach while lying on the couch, or pressing kisses to your arms while you cook.

𖤐 I’m telling you right now, yunho isn’t shy about expressing his love. He tells you daily, in ways that range from poetic declarations—“You feel like the home I’ve been searching for my whole life”—to soft-spoken affirmations, whispered against your ear when you wake up.

𖤐 He loves seeing you confident, but he thrives on the quiet moments when you’re vulnerable, trusting him enough to show the parts of yourself you usually hide. To Yunho, those moments are where your beauty shines brightest.

𖤐 To me, he’s more so protective than possessive on occasions, always prioritizing your comfort and well-being.

𖤐 Anyone who even tries to make a comment about your body in a negative way will be met with that cold, cutting stare. Yum.

𖤐 He wants to become one with you—not just physically but spiritually. He dreams of the day he can say, “This is the life we’ve built together.”

✦. ── kang yeosang .ᐟ 강여상

𖤐 Yeo-yeo is more of a subtle admirer, he is quiet about his affection but his actions speak volumes.

𖤐 He’d casually drape his jacket over your shoulder, pull you closer with an arm secure around your waist, and compliment you in ways that make your heart flutter.

𖤐 His eyes OMFG, he talks with his eyes. If you were out with friends having dinner or something and see him looking at you, you can easily interpret what he’s saying, “You look beautiful” or “Come here, I want to hold you.”

𖤐 He’s your personal photographer, and not those who stand in one place and take a picture no, he will do whatever to get the perfect shot. If he has to get on his knees or raise his arms while already standing on an elevated platform, he will.

𖤐 He loves capturing candid pictures of you. Whether it’s your soft smile, your laughter, or just the way you look at him, he treasures every photo. And when you criticize yourself in photos, he’ll firmly say, “What are you talking about? You look incredible, don’t you ever disrespect my girlfriend like that.”

𖤐 Also 🥹

𖤐 Yeosang remembers everything you tell him, no matter how insignificant you think it is. Months later, he’ll bring up that obscure snack you mentioned liking as a kid or a book you said you wanted to read, often surprising you with it. “You said you wanted this, right?” he’ll say casually, like it’s no big deal, even though you’re stunned he remembered.

𖤐 If you have a unique fashion sense, he doesn’t just hype it up, he matches your energy. He’ll subtly coordinate his outfits with yours, ensuring you both look like you stepped out of a fashion editorial without stealing your thunder TEHE.

𖤐 This made me cry but

𖤐 If you ever feel down or insecure, Yeosang’s words are like a balm. He’ll remind you of your strengths and beauty without hesitation, often framing his encouragement as a matter of fact. “You’re incredible. Anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve to know you.”

𖤐 While he’s fine with going out, his ideal date is staying in, curled up with you under a blanket while you watch a movie or talk for hours. He loves the intimacy of those quiet moments where it feels like the world is just the two of you.

✦. ── choi san .ᐟ 최산

𖤐 AGH I LOVE THIS MAN.

𖤐 He will NEVER miss an opportunity to tell you how beautiful you are. He’s the type to bombard you with compliments like, “You’re so cute” or “You’re so sexy,” often in the same breath.

𖤐 SAURRR MUCH PDA

𖤐 And he’s unapologetic about being affectionate in public. Whether it’s holding your hand, a thumb stroking your knuckles, full-on bear hugs, wrapping his arm around your waist, or outright kissing you in front of others, San LOVES showing the world how proud he is to have you.

𖤐 He loves wrapping his big arms around you from behind and holding your tummy in his hands, he’d sway you side to side just chilling on you like a koala. If you try to move, he’ll groan and pull you closer, mumbling with a pout, “nope, you’re stuck with me now.”

𖤐 I feel like he’d definitely tease you, he’ll poke your cheeks or pinch your sides and call you adorable, but he never crosses the line.

𖤐 How to keep it playful and always follows up with a sincere, “I love every part of you.”

𖤐 I also feel like if he ever found out he made you cry after teasing you, he’ll dig his own grave. he’d do everything in his power to make it up to you, but he’ll never be able to forgive himself or get rid of that ache in his heart :((

𖤐 If you jokingly ask him something like “can you even lift my weight?” he’ll bench you right there and then, no need to go to the gym to show you.

𖤐 He’s your biggest fan in everything you do. Whether it’s a hobby, work, or even just picking out an outfit, he’ll hype you up like you’re the greatest in the world. “That’s my girl!” he’ll shout playfully, clapping dramatically, making you laugh and blush at the same time.

𖤐 Yk despite his playful nature, San has a deeply emotional and nurturing side. On tough days, he’ll hold you close, stroking your hair and whispering affirmations. “You’re everything to me, you know that? I’m so lucky to have you.” His voice is calm and steady, grounding you in the warmth of his love.

𖤐 If you jokingly ask him something like “can you even lift my weight?” he’ll bench you right there and then, no need to go to the gym to show you.

⤷ “San, I don’t think you can lift me,” you teased, a mischievous grin playing on your lips.

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide with mock offense. “Oh, really? Is that a challenge?”

Before you could respond, he was on his feet, grabbing your hands and pulling you up with him. “San, no!” you squealed, laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Too late,” he said with a playful smirk, easily hoisting you up bridal-style. “See? Light as a feather.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, your arms looping around his neck as he spun you around. “Okay, okay, I believe you!”

He set you down gently but didn’t let go, his arms still secure around your waist. Leaning in, he kissed your forehead softly. “Never doubt me again,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

𖤐 He’s so serious about you I can’t even type I’m blushing so hard bye.

✦. ── song mingi .ᐟ 송민기

𖤐 GIVE HIM A CHUBBY BADDIE AND HE WON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO HE’S THAT WHIPPED.

𖤐 Like he’s already smitten, but if you dress up or put in any effort, Mingi is left absolutely speechless, stammering out compliments like, “You… you’re literally the hottest person alive.”

𖤐 He LOVES cuddles and is all about physical affection. He’ll wrap himself around you like a blanket and tell you how soft and cozy you are, he loves pressing his cheek against yours and resting his hands on either your lower back or love handles, being close to you is his happy place, and he’ll never pass up a chance to cuddle.

𖤐 NUMBER ONE HYPE KING.

𖤐 He’ll randomly yell things like, “THAT’S MY BABY!” if you’re walking by him or just doing anything that makes you look confident.

𖤐 He loves boosting your self-esteem in the loudest, most Mingi way possible.

𖤐 I feel like you guys would have this little playful thing where he pretends he doesn’t know you and when walking past you he double takes, turning his body around to check out the bunda with them elevator eyes. He’d jog up to you and ask if you’ve got a boyfriend, also throwing in ‘mami’ mhm idc I said what I said.

𖤐 OOO he’d definitely bling you out so you’re matching. If he’s wearing a chain, you’re wearing a chain. If he got them rings on, so do you.

✦. ── jung wooyoung .ᐟ 정우영

𖤐 Woo is all about showing you off yessirrr.

𖤐 He’ll post pictures of you together on his social media with captions like, “My Queen 🤗” making sure everyone knows he’s proud of you. He’ll talk about you to his friends, constantly raving about how lucky he is. “Have you met her? She’s amazing,” he’ll brag to anyone who will listen — actually that doesn’t matter, he will make them listen.

𖤐 He loves cooking for you, especially if it means seeing you enjoy food without guilt or self-consciousness. “Food is meant to be enjoyed, babe,” he’ll say, feeding you bites of whatever he’s made. He’s adamant on making sure to remind you that there’s no need to feel guilty for indulging.

𖤐 OML ON THAT NOTE he’ll definitely spoon feed you, making sure it's not too hot by blowing on it and checking the temperature with his lips before feeding you (yk where this came from mhm)

𖤐 He’s always got your back and will defend you no matter what, wooyoung has zero tolerance for body shaming. If anyone makes a rude comment, he’ll roast them into oblivion and then reassure you and make sure their stupid comments don't get to you.

𖤐 Wooyoung is extremely protective of you, especially when it comes to anything that could affect your confidence or self-image.

𖤐 If anyone dares to make rude or body-shaming comments, he won’t hesitate to speak up. He’ll roast them in oblivion and make sure they know exactly where they stand. Afterward, he’ll be there for you, reassuring you and reminding you how beautiful you are, inside and out. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re perfect, babe, and I love you

𖤐 He’s the type to always want to be physically close to you. Whether it’s holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder, or wrapping his arm around you while watching a movie, he just loves being near you.

𖤐 He’ll even sneak up behind you for surprise hugs or kisses, just to make sure you know you’re loved. “I just want to hold you,” he’ll say, snuggling up to you on the couch or in bed.

✦. ── choi jongho .ᐟ 최종호

𖤐 Baby bear 🥹

𖤐 Jongho’s love isn’t loud or showy, but it’s steady and unwavering. He’s the type to show his devotion through actions rather than words.

𖤐 Whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable or going out of his way to do something thoughtful for you, he always lets you know that you’re a priority in his life without needing to shout it from the rooftops.

𖤐 Jongii is so incredible observant when it comes to you. He’ll remember your favorite foods, the things that make you laugh, and the small gestures that bring you joy.

𖤐 If you’re feeling a little off, he’ll notice it before you even mention it and do something to make you feel better, whether it’s bringing you a hot drink or quietly holding your hand. “I noticed you were quiet today,” he’ll say, his voice soft but concerned. “Is everything okay?”

𖤐 Jongho loves showing off his strength, but he’s soft with you. feeling down about your body, he’ll remind you of all the ways you’re amazing, saying things like, “Your body is strong and beautiful, just like you.”

𖤐 Jongho is a quiet romantic, and nothing says “I love you” to him more than sharing his music with you. He’ll often hum or sing softly when you’re together, his voice like a lullaby that wraps around you.

𖤐 Sometimes, he’ll even make up little songs just for you, serenading you in the most tender way. “You make me feel so lucky,” he might sing, smiling at you as you relax by his side. His voice is comforting, and hearing him sing just for you feels like a gentle, loving embrace.

𖤐 Jongho doesn’t need grand displays of affection to show you he cares; it’s in the little things. He’s the type to send you thoughtful texts during the day, reminding you to take care of yourself. If you’re feeling tired, he’ll offer to take on a chore for you, or if you’re out together, he’ll carry your bags without a second thought. His gestures might be small, but they’re full of meaning, and they’re his way of saying, “I love you and I’m here for you.”

𖤐 Honestly? When Jongho loves you, he loves you deeply. He’s not the type to fall in love lightly, and once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll find him sharing little details about his life, his hopes, and dreams, trusting you with the parts of him he usually keeps hidden. “I’ve never been able to open up like this before,” he’ll admit, his voice sincere. “But with you… it feels easy.”

Copyright © 2023 whrfchnn! All fanfics belong to me and only me, I don’t give permission for my work to be translated, published to another site, or copied.

[bryan-writes]

Hey! I don't know if you take requests but I like collecting headcanons of people

so do you have some Obey me headcanons?

Have a wonderful day<3. (if you don't take requests then feel free to ignore)

Hello anon, I hope this is what you were asking for! Thank you sm for the request, I hope you have a wonderful day as well lovely<3!

Obey me headcannons— the seven brothers

Just a bunch of cute head cannons I have about the brothers :)

No warnings!

Lovely dividers by @cafekitsune <3

Lucifer

A total plant dad in secret! He has a small collection of rare plants in his office (hidden away from Mammon ofc). He enjoys their low-maintenance nature and often has a calming ritual of watering them and reflecting after a long day. You found out by accident once, and gift him small plants whenever you visit the human realm (a spider plant, dracaena, snake plant).

He's a classical vinyl collector. I feel like this one’s pretty popular, but he has an extensive vinyl collection (mainly of classical or jazz) and insists they sound better than any digital recording he’s heard. He prefers to listen to them alone, insisting his brothers will only ruin the experience, but he’ll never deny or turn you away if you ask to join him.

He’s a total fancy sleepwear enthusiast. You’d think it’d be an Asmo thing, but Lucifer has a collection of luxurious silk and satin pajamas. He believes that “even in sleep, one must uphold dignity” (he gave you that speech the first week when you wobbled through the kitchen in an old, stained band shirt).

Mammon

He’s absolutely adored by stray animals in the Devildom, but especially by cats. They tend to follow him around (much to Satan’s dismay), and he’s always a bit flustered about it but secretly loves it. Sometimes he’ll even sneak treats and treasures to them (things like fancy ribbons and long necklace chains).

He’s a total hoarder too, keeping a collection of things that remind him of you specifically— small trinkets, wrapped, tickets/receipts, photos (I wrote a oneshot for this if you want more!). He keeps them hidden, safe from his brother’s prying eyes and questions.

He also has a ton of good luck charms. A little ceramic ladybug, a pressed four-leaf clover, crystals, a horseshoe, etc. He’s convinced they’ll bring him good luck and fortune in his schemes, even if he doesn’t quite remember where they all came from. His favorite good luck charm is you though. He refuses to leave the house in the mornings without a good luck kiss.

Levi

It’s no secret that Levi loves the ocean, keeping a fish tank that he’s decorated to look like the real deal. He’ll watch Henry swim around in the rare moments he’s unwinding, taking the quiet time to find inspiration for his gaming and anime stories.

He totally has an otaku daily planner that he’s decorated with anime stickers and fan art. He tracks everything from game release dates to plans with you— which he surrounds with little hearts. He’ll doodle in free spaces and will bring it with him everywhere.

He’s a total random trivia buff, with a surprising amount of knowledge for most obscure topics. He’s like the caps of Snapple bottles, popping off with a random fact that relates to the conversation every now and then.

Satan

Satan is an avid audiobook listener. He likes to experience different narrations of the classics he loves, often falling asleep to them. There have been countless times where he’s recorded you reading to him just to later listen to your voice when he naps.

Over the years, he’s secretly given each of his brothers a nickname of a cat breed based on their personalities. He calls Mammon a Bengal (for their boldness) and Lucifer a Maine Coon (dignified and regal) for example. Nobody knows he does this, and would rather die than tell anyone.

Satan is a tea connoisseur. He loves to experiment with different tea blends based on his current read. He’ll make a “Wuthering Heights” blend on stormy days or a “Sherlock Holmes” blend when he’s feeling particularly investigative.

Asmo

Asmo has a vast collection of rare perfumes and fragrances from both the human and demon realm and can identify perfumes by smell alone. He’ll often make blends for you that he thinks “capture your essence”, and makes you wear them on date nights.

He creates outfits based on moods, and very rarely based on occasions or weather (although whatever he wears is beyond beautiful anyway). If he’s feeling even slightly out of sorts, he’ll wear a specific scarf to “help align his vibes”, insisting you wear a matching one with him.

Asmo has an elaborate manicure routine, and he offers special “spa nights” just for you (it’s become a weekly routine). He does all of his brother's nails, but never treats them to full nights of face and hair care that he does with you.

Beel

He loves to experiment with recipes, trying to come up with “the ultimate snack” with a variety of unique flavors. He has a small notebook filled with random snack ideas he wants to try with you, including “infernal honey nachos” and “fiery chocolate popcorn”.

He will occasionally build the most elaborate and beautiful blanket forts in his room, to hide from his brothers for quiet time and snacks. He’ll sometimes invite you to join him for late-night snack chats.

Beel loves trying to combine Devildom foods with human foods, attempting to make hybrids like “hellberry pizza” or “demonic takoyaki.” He gets super excited when you introduce him to new human-realm foods and suggest new fashion ideas.

Belphie

He has curated playlists for every possible sleeping scenario ever. He has a “nap in a meadow” playlist and an “underwater dream”, which he’ll share with you if you ever want the “perfect sleep/nap vibes.”

Belphie has a habit of sketching while sleepy. He doesn’t remember half of what he draws, but he’s done some surprisingly good doodles of you, the brothers, and his dreams. You’ve started keeping them to collect in a sketchbook for him.

He actually puts some thought into his “lazy look.” He has favorite clothes that he feels make him look effortlessly comfortable and will proudly say, “Fashion is all about making it look like you didn't try.” (You’ve seen him get mad when his hair won’t look ‘the right amount of disheveled’, whatever that means).

[curiositydooropened]

Hell Hound • Part One

Being FWBs with metal rockstar, Eddie Munson, is all fun and games until a dozen red roses show up at your door with a warning: Stay Away from The Devil or you will die. Despite your protests, Eddie appoints his personal bodyguard to keep an eye out for you.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 10, 712

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

The interior of the L never looked that beautiful, at least not through Steve’s eyes. Every experience he’d had was tainted by Bears fans or teenagers filming videos on their phone, or God, don’t remind him about St. Patty’s Day. No, the seats were too small for his shoulders, the windows too short, and the whole thing smelled like plastic bags.

Your perspective was vastly different. You were just the right height to catch the sunlight as it filled the train car with that golden glow. The city whirred by, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and reflections off the glass. You positioned poles and handholds just so with satisfying symmetry.

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens. 

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft. 

He’d seen that look dozens of times tonight, timid gratitude that poured out of you and onto every surface in this little gallery space. You’d caught his gaze a handful of times, reassured him with a smile that you were okay, great even, oozing with sheepish pride. He’d just nod and go back to admiring another of your photos.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm. 

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.” 

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man winked at you, and your eyes lit with mischievous delight. You nodded along, conspiratorially while the woman rambled on about the neighbors’ cat meowing and another neighbor practicing saxophone into the wee hours. 

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room. 

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo. 

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?” 

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?” 

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“How’s it going?” He elbowed you, glancing once more around the room at the patrons to your first gallery showing. He’d agreed to come run point for your opening, soft-pitching the idea for Munson to hit out of the park.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach. 

“Told you.” He grinned, and you swatted his arm and told him to shut up. He really could watch you for hours, the micro-expressions on your face prettier than any photo you could take, though your talent came up a close second. 

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

Steve blinked once, twice. The rapid flash of headlights cast your cheekbones in shadow. He spun on his heel to find his employer and friend, Eddie Munson, slipping out of the backseat of a tinted-windowed SUV. He cursed under his breath and excused himself, shouldering through a confused crowd to meet the rockstar at the door. 

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves. 

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.” 

You’d followed Steve out into the rain, slipping through party guests to greet Eddie. The rockstar wrapped studded-leather arms around your slender waist and greeted you with something salacious whispered into your ear. Steve knew because of the shocked look stretched over beautiful features, and the way you’d swatted at Eddie’s shoulder as if he’d said something bad enough to curl your toes. 

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.” 

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.” 

—

“I think I’ll buy all the ones left,” Munson quipped with a lazy arm tugging you back into his chest. 

You snorted, and shook your head. “Then no one else will be able to buy them, which is kind of the point of a gallery.” You gestured around at the carefully placed frames on carefully designed walls. 

“Well, good. Maybe I want you all to myself.” 

Steve’s eyes ached to roll. He collected plastic flutes and discarded trays of half-eaten vegetables and tossed them into large, black garbage sacks. 

“Are you coming over tonight?” 

“I just had my gallery opening,” you barked a laugh, pulling away to help Steve with the table you were leaning on. “I need to sleep.”

“You need to celebrate,” Eddie rationed, tugging you back into him. You yelped, your thumb going into a rogue slice of cake. With waggled brows, Eddie pulled your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Steve thought he might be sick. He turned his back and held open the bag in front of him, just in case. Unfortunately, he could still make out your reflection in the windows out front. Your meticulously picked-out slacks hugged your curves, and Munson’s ringed fingers slipped over the breadth of your backside to squeeze you closer to him. 

“Anything else you need help with?” Steve’s voice tasted awkward, a little too loud, too scratchy. 

You separated from Eddie and dumped your haul into Steve’s bag. “I think that’s it. Thank you for everything, Steve. Really. And I’m serious about paying you.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He said, twisting the bag closed with a knot. 

You shot him another look and said, “Eddie, tell Steve to let me pay him.” 

“You don’t take money from her, you don’t take money from me, pal.” 

Steve did roll his eyes this time, and glared over your shoulder at the rockstar zipping and unzipping his leather jacket. “Yeah, we have a contract, dumb ass.” 

“I’ll have my lawyer sue your lawyer.” 

“Your lawyer is my lawyer.” 

Eddie grinned. “He’s got me there, Sug.” 

You scoffed and snatched the bag from Steve’s hand. “Fine, I’ll have to come up with some other way to repay you.” 

Steve was thankful for mood lighting and the late hour. His face heated another twenty or so degrees, and he scratched at the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. “Eds, you need me to call you a car?” 

“Would you mind, Stevie-dearest? Sugar, I gotta take a piss. Care to show me the can in this place?” Eddie stood up and adjusted the crotch of his tight jeans for show. 

“You’re a class act, Eddie Munson. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You gripped the hefty garbage bag in one hand and took Eddie’s hand in your other as you led him back into the office space of the warehouse. Before the heavy door closed, both of you made eyes at Steve, one friendly, the other randy.

Steve’s stomach churned, and he pulled out his phone to call a car. 

Working with Eddie had been tedious, but simple. Call him a car, shield him from paparazzi and groping fans alike, bring him his hangover cure breakfast, ask beautiful women to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement before his plethora of one-night stands. 

You were the toughest pill to swallow, a beautiful girl at a hometown gig. 

Hometown gigs meant rowdy afterparties, venue-catered alcohol and executive-catered drugs. It meant too-lax security checkpoints and easily-bribed security detail, and after months on the road, Steve wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. So he posted himself at the Green Room door, one eye on the metal detector, one eye on the front man who’d hired him, and prayed the ache between his shoulders would go away soon. Eight more hours and he’d be at home in bed for a long awaited and much needed vacation.

Eddie was two water bottles in, and his hand still trembled when he introduced himself to some recording mogul.

Steve snapped his fingers at some kid and told him quickly to hand Munson another bottle of water and get him a towel. 

When the items had been delivered to a thankful rockstar, Steve turned back to the collection of items being tossed into plastic trays on the outside of the metal detector: a cell phone, keys with a neon carabiner, a leather wallet, a DSLR.

“Whoa, whoa,” he stopped the attendant from picking up the camera. “There’s no press on the guest list.” 

“No press, just freelance,” you said from across the metal threshold. You wore a well-loved leather jacket, softened and faded with time and an expression that toed the line between compliance and try me.

Steve swallowed, shook the stars from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, this is a camera-free zone.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before stepping back over the threshold and against the current of waiting party-goers to fiddle with the camera.

“Here,” you cupped something in an outstretched hand, waiting patiently for Steve to accept whatever gift you had to offer.

With caution, he accepted the tiniest of SD cards, bright blue.

“Call it insurance?” You smiled, tongue behind your canine in a way that made him itch under the collar. “Find me before I leave and give it back?”

Munson had found you first, dragging Steve with clammy hands to meet his “dream girl”. He gave the signal for Steve to start pulling up the contract on his phone as he made his way down a long, concrete hallway.

You hadn’t flinched, just cocked a brow and signed your name on the dotted line with a, “Thanks, Steve. Have a great night.”

He kept your SD card. He didn’t even tell Robin that it rested on the corner of his dresser next to a picture of Dustin on his graduation day. 

He assumed he’d never see you again, but Munson had grown a fondness for you, and soon you were a regular part of Chicago meet-ups. Every hometown gig became a room full of you. 

Steve heard giggling from the office, that soft melodic bounce of your laugh against the bass of Eddie’s voice. This was the worst of it, catching you two in compromising positions around parties or Eddie’s ornate penthouse, and pretending like it didn’t kill him inside that it wasn’t him with his hands on you, making you laugh, smelling the warmth of your throat.

His phone buzzed in his hand. 

Robin: How was the gallery opening? Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet? We on for our FaceTime date tonight?

Steve: Eddie showed up. Yup. See you in 10 hours.

Robin: Shit. I just sent you money. Buy yourself a fifth and we’ll drink it together.

A car rolled up outside, blinding him with strong headlights.

“Munson, car’s here!” He called, praying you could both hear him.

There was the shuffle of a few things in the back, and with the clack of Eddie’s boots, you both returned. You looked a little more windswept than before, and Eddie’s sunglasses has been pulled back over his eyes, despite it being nearly midnight. 

“Steve,” you breathed, approaching him with arms outstretched for a friendly embrace. “Thanks again for all of your help tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me.” 

He gave the tightest squeeze he could under supervision and let your hand fall into his to give you one more gentle squeeze. “Anytime. It was really no problem. Do you need a ride home?” 

You shook your head, smile wedged between your teeth. “I guess Eddie wore me down.” 

“Yeah I will.” He snorted, and you shushed him. 

Steve nodded and started for the door. “Cool. Well, have fun, you two. Be safe.” 

“Thanks, man,” Eddie knocked knuckles with his friend, rings sharp against Steve’s scarred fists. “I’ll call tomorrow.” 

Steve swallowed and glanced over his shoulder to bid you one last, weak smile. 

You waggled you fingers, and he stepped out into the cool night air. 

—

“You are the most embarrassing person I know in real life.” Even Robin in lag was brutal. 

Steve sipped his coffee and rubbed at tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much. Mostly, he scrolled and wondered exactly what you and Eddie were getting up to, wondered why it wasn’t him. 

“You asked if she needed a ride home?” 

“I was being polite,” he grumbled. He took a banana off its tree and began to peel. They had all begun to brown. 

“You’re so sweet, Stevie. Like a little lost puppy dog.” 

“Oh fuck off, Robin. Remember you and that girl in Buchapest?” 

“Bucharest,” she corrected his pronunciation. “And she was merely a fleeting crush.” 

“You cried over her for like three weeks.” He shot his best friend a look over the screen. 

The lighting was horrible in her Istanbul flat, internet connection worse. Steve told her he’d pay for anything better, but she argued that he needed to quit babying her and let her live the nomadic experienced she’d always dreamed of. 

“Okay, okay,” her connection stuttered in and out, face pixelated as she ducked out of frame and back. “So you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not so bad.” 

“At least I have you.” Steve nodded, mouth full of squishy sweet banana. 

He nearly choked when his phone began to ring in his hand, your name and photo popping up on the display screen. “Robin, it’s her.” 

“What?” 

“She’s calling me.” He held his phone to the camera on his laptop to prove a point. 

“Speaker phone!” Robin squeaked. 

With a sigh, he answered, phone pressed to his ear to respect your privacy. Robin glared. 

“Hello?”

“Steve?” The worry in your voice had his heart kicking up in his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Robin echoed his sentiments until he snapped his fingers and put his finger to his lips to quiet her.

“Nothing, it’s um… could you… are you busy?” 

“Nope. Not busy at all,” he said. Robin threw a silent fit on her end. “What’s going on?”

“Could you just… come down to the gallery? I need your help with something.”

“Yeah,” he frowned, walked the rest of his banana to the garbage can. “Like, later today?”

“Or right now. Could you come right now? As soon as possible?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. “Yes. Yes, I will be right there. Keep the door locked until I get there.”

“Okay. Thank you.” 

He hung up and rushed to the door to get his shoes on. His keys and wallet were in his pocket before he heard another voice echo throughout his kitchen. 

“Harrington!? Hello!? Earth to Dingus!”

“Shit,” he sidled up to his laptop. “Robin, I am so sorry.” 

She managed a knowing smirk and a laggy nod. “Yeah, you owe me, big time Harrington. Text me everything that happens.”

“I love you,” he agreed. 

“See you next week!” 

“In real life!” He hung up before she had a chance to blabber on, and he was out the door.

—

The worry etched across your beautiful features was devastating. 

Steve yearned to wrap you into his arms and promise he’d protect you, to kiss the frown lines from between your brows, to tickle at your ribs until you smiled again. 

Instead, he stood three feet away, inspecting a bouquet of three dozen red roses that had been delivered to the gallery that morning with a note attached.

Roses are Red

Beauty is You

Stay away from the Devil

Before he kills you

A printed photograph was pinned to the card, a pap photo from a gala you and Eddie had attended together a few weeks ago. Eddie’s shoulders were squeezed into a rhinestoned blazer, flash reflecting off his sunglasses. Devil horns and a tale had been crudely drawn over his features in red ball point pen. You stood beside him, hand-in-hand, curves standing out in a black silk dress. One small strap was dangling off your shoulder. The same pen was used to etch slash marks through your exposed throat, so hard it had ripped through the page.

“Is this… like Eddie wouldn’t do this, right?” Your voice shook, hand trembling against your cheekbone. You balled a tissue into your fist.

“No! God no,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, Jesus, I hope not.” He muttered under his breath. “Have you called him?”

You shrugged, nodded. “I tried, and texted. He was still asleep when I left.”

Steve cleared his throat with a nod, remembering you’d gone home with the rockstar. You probably slipped out of black silk sheets and into the black and grey marbled shower. You probably toed around in front of the massive high-rise window, searching for various garments that had been removed on every inch of the house. Maybe you’d made yourself a latte, with a splash of lavender like you like it, wearing an oversized black hoodie that smelled of weed and cigarettes and some cologne Steve couldn’t afford.

“I can try again,” you fished your phone from your back pocket and dialed.

Steve plucked the card from the roses for any indication of a delivery service or floral company, but the card was blank, ivory, high-quality. “Who delivered these?”

“Old guy, balding, green vest,” you shrugged. 

Steve nodded.

“Hey, Sugar,” Eddie’s voice rasped over speaker. “S’matter. Did you leave something here, or d’you just miss me?”

“No, um…” You changed your balance from one foot to the other. “Eds, did you send me roses?”

“Fuck, you want me to eat you out and send you roses?” The rockstar chuckled.

Steve swallowed and didn’t dare look at you directly. He felt the heat radiating off of you as you frantically turned off speaker-phone and held the device to your ear, covering your face with a hand.

“No, babe, Jesus. I got a delivery of roses today with a um…” Your voice trembled again.

Steve brushed delicate fingers to your arm and held out his hand to take the phone.

You gave it willingly.

“Eddie, hey,” Steve sighed. 

“Harrington? What is going on? Am I still asleep?”

“No, dude, she called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you. Listen, there’s this big bouquet of roses here with a death threat attached. You didn’t have anything to do with this, right? It’s not some kind of prank?”

“A death threat? What do you mean? A prank? Jesus, how shitty of a person do you think I am? Is she okay? I’m coming down there.”

Steve winced around the shuffle of bedsheets and the sound of Eddie clomping around his bedroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dude. Here, let me send you a picture.”

Steve took his own phone out to take and send a photo, rifling past a barrage of text messages from Robin. 

You’d propped yourself on the reception desk, eyes darting between the flowers and outside. The morning light poured in, hollowing your cheekbones and painting your walls pink. 

Steve reached for your elbow, running his thumb over the bit of skin there to pull your focus back.

You offered a sheepish smile and squeezed his wrist.

“Oh what the fuck?” Eddie yelled through the phone, startling you both. 

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Steve agreed, rubbing at tired eyes.

“Is she okay? Let me talk to her. Wait, Harrington, do you think it’s Carver?”

Steve’s blood ran cold. 

Jason Carver was a religious zealot from a small town with a vendetta for Eddie Munson and “demons like him”. Two years ago, his army of his cronies marched to a Corroded Coffin show in Milwaukee and set the place on fire. They managed to get everyone out of the bar before the roof collapsed. More Molotovs were thrown before the cops arrived.

Since Carver wasn’t in attendance and denied any involvement in inciting the riot, he received a slap on the wrist and no jail time. The band did manage an airtight restraining order, but Steve doubted that looped in contact with Munson’s hook-ups.

He cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, fuck is right. Let me talk to her. Don’t let her leave your sight. I’ll pay you triple if I have to. Twenty-four hour surveillance. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry about the cash, man,” Steve shook his head. “I won’t leave her. I’m going to call the delivery company and see if they can give me any more information on the purchase, and then I’ll call Joyce and see if she can’t get her written into the restraining order.” 

“Thank you, man. I want you to take her home to get her stuff and then bring her over here. If it is him, he can’t get to her here.”

Steve hated that he was right.

“Put her on for me. Thanks again, bro.”

With a resigned sigh, Steve slipped the phone back into your trembling hands.

He overheard Eddie’s tone slip into something softer, “Sugar, how’re you doing? Are you alright? I’m so so sorry this happened to you, my sweet girl.”

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze before you wandered off across the gallery for some privacy in your phone call. 

Steve opened his browser to began searching for the delivery company’s number with a pit in his stomach and an unfillable ache in his chest.

—

Robin: OMFG that’s so scary. Is she ok? Are you ok? Is Eddie ok? I’m going to be there in a week, plz don’t get murdered.

—

Your keys clicked in the lock, and you toed open the door to your little apartment. Light poured in through large windows, casting warmth on the small space that the dark hallway hid. You stepped in first, and Steve followed with trepidation. 

He’d never been to your house, and when he walked over the threshold, he was overpowered by how you it felt. The whole place smelled of you, of your shampoo and the perfume you spritz on special nights. Your little kitchen table was scattered with stacks of old mail and rolls of film. A laptop sat open on a squishy futon sofa. Beneath your television were a handful of films he knew you loved. 

“How long um… how much should I pack?” You squinted, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is a lot, and I don’t know how to handle it.” 

Once again, he felt the ache to pull you into him, to whisper sweet words into your hair. Instead he gestured to a bar stool. “Take a seat. Take a breath. I’m going to check the house, if that’s alright.” 

He winced as your face flooded with realization, and fear. 

“It’s probably fine. I just want to be safe.” He tried to sound nonchalant, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed, nodded, gestured for him to go ahead. “Sorry it’s a mess.” 

He waved you off with a knowing smile and started down the hallway, relieved when he turned to see you sitting as instructed. You’d been on your feet all day, making arrangements with the gallery owners to have someone take your shift for the evening and tomorrow. When you weren’t on the phone or emailing buyers, you were staring out the windows, a far-off gaze in your eye. You held that now, looking down your living room windows at the busy downtown street below.

Steve took the first door to the left and found a small bathroom. Some tiles in the corner were cracked, and the sink was scattered with the remnants of a makeup bag, a toothbrush. The bathtub’s curtain was pulled back to reveal a loofah dangling from the faucet. 

Your bedroom waited at the end of the hall. His fingertips pushed the door open, breath shallow, face warm.

Sage green linens were crumpled on your bed with three overstuffed pillows. Dirty clothes littered your floor in piles leading to and from the closet. That black satin dress topped an armchair, the strap snapped.

Steve swallowed.

A hefty dresser sat to the right of the door, the top scattered with trinkets and photographs. He was surprised to find his own image scowling back at him, arms crossed, black t-shirt on, leaning against a concrete wall. The sun hit him just so, framing his eyes like a superhero mask, the rest of him cast in shadow. God, all of the world really was better through your lens.

“All clear?” Your soft voice startled him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks warm, to find you at the doorway, hugging your arms to yourself. He smiled. “Clear. I’ll just wait in the front room.” He gestured to slip past you.

“Actually, do you mind hanging out? It’ll only take a second.” You gestured for him to sit on the bed before you scampered about your room, picking up the dirty clothes and depositing them into the hamper.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed like they were in the photo. “Get enough for a couple of days if you want, but we’re going to get this figured out.”

You wore your anxiety like a jacket, hunched shoulders and furrowed brow, a shell of the vibrant woman he knew. 

He took a few steps forward, halting your frantic shoving of clothes in a backpack.

You blinked back up at him, eyes wide, hands trembling.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You laughed then, a manically sound that didn’t meet your eyes. “Steve, am I just insane? Or stupid? Am I the dumbest person in the entire world?” 

“What?” He tried not to focus on the way your hair haloed around your face, light pouring in through gossamer curtains.

“I knew the novelty of sleeping with a rockstar would wear off eventually, but I was thinking like he’d cheat on me with a super model or maybe I’d get a curable STD, but not this.” It was the most you’d spoken all day, your old self sinking back into your voice.

Steve smiled, itched at the back of his neck, shrugged. “Eddie’s a very charming man.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I mean, okay, Eddie’s good, but he’s not death-threats good.”

Steve felt a little surge of excitement at this knowledge, maybe a bit of competition sparking in him again. “Sure, but he’s a good guy. He really likes you.”

“I think he calls me ‘Sugar’ because he forgot my real name and got too embarrassed to ask.” 

Your confession had Steve’s jaw on the floor, and when you laughed, he felt light as air. This time your laugh met your eyes, met your mouth, your cheeks. You swatted at his chest.

“Steve, you were supposed to tell me that’s not true.” 

Steve snickered and merely shrugged.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You pushed past him and to the bathroom to start collecting your toiletries. The anxiety was temporarily snuffed and replaced with the ease of routine, of being in your space surrounded by your things, and Steve felt himself relax a bit knowing you were comfortable.

—

Joyce: Got it taken care of, sweetheart. Hop says he’ll file a report and to let him know if you need an extra hand. Dinner next weekend? Steak and potatoes? Take care of yourself.

25 Notifications

Mail

Calendar

Messages

Instagram

DoorDash

—

Munson pulled his ragged hair up into a bun with a hair tie he kept around his wrist. Steve often wondered if it was yours, or if the rockstar pulled it from the locks of some groupie on the road, long nights spent in truck stops and blues houses. The tie had lost some elasticity over the years, and tendrils managed to fall into the man’s eyes, and even still, he looked cool, casual, calm.

He was anything but calm. His knee bounced as he took a glass of water from Steve filled for him. “What did I do wrong, man?” 

Steve sighed and sat across from him, back to massive windows overlooking the city lights. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this tiff you were having. 

“I mean, I just want to keep her safe. I’m the one that got her in this mess in the first place.” Eddie extended an inked arm toward his bedroom door. You’d been in there for over an hour now, having excused yourself to bed for the night. 

You’d made a point that you were going to bed alone.

“Should I not have told her how I feel?”

Steve pinched at this bridge of his nose, eyes tired and struggling to focus in a room of black velour upholstery and gold trim. 

The spat started when Eddie informed you he’d booked your ticket to join him in England for the next few months while Corroded Coffin records their next album. It ended when Eddie, on bended knees, hands gripping your ribcage, told you he loved you.

Steve watched the entire exchange awkwardly from the kitchen, trying to blend in with white marble countertops.

Apparently, today was a day for firsts. He’d never seen you as nervous as he had in the gallery that morning, and he’d never seen you as angry. You were the silent type, but he felt the rage radiating off of your frame, the clench of your jaw, the subtle brush of Eddie’s hands from your waist.

He caught your gaze when you exited the room, and your demeanor shifted to apologetic, embarrassed maybe. He managed a tight-lipped smile and a wave. 

“Harrington,” Eddie snapped his fingers. “Come on, you’re good with women, right? Help me out.” 

Steve snorted. He’d been good with women, sure, but not since you waltzed into his life with your SD card and that smirk.

“How do we make up?” Munson’s shoulders were hunched, face fraught with worry.

With another drawn out sigh, Steve shrugged. “Give her space, man. She had a really scary day. You remember your first death threat, right? She needs time to process and not for you to demand she be shipped off to another country for two months.” 

Eddie nodded, too much, too exuberantly. “Okay, okay. You’re right. That makes sense. I just…” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want to lose her.” 

That emotion, Steve understood. It was a fear that prickled at the base of his neck anytime Eddie winked at another girl in the front row, anytime he had his arms looped over two women backstage, anytime his phone sat on the coffee table between them with Sugar blowing up the notifications, neglected. Didn’t Eddie know what he had in you?

“We won’t.” He shook his head. 

Eddie nodded. “You’re a good man, Steve Harrington. I’m sure going to miss you.” 

Steve frowned at that, arms crossed over his chest. “Miss me? The hell are you talking about?” 

“When I’m in England,” Eddie explained, reaching forward for the tin lunch box he kept tucked under the coffee table. The lid hid the glass with a clang, and he reached in for rolling papers, a lighter, and a ziplock bag full of weed.

“Are you firing me?” Steve wasn’t following.

Munson snorted, rolled a neat joint, licked it closed. “Harrington, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

Steve warmed, as he often did when someone complimented him, and frowned. “Cut the crap. What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to stay here, with her.” He nodded your direction and lit up, flame glowing in big, brown eyes while he took a drag. He held onto it for a minute, shoulders going slack, knee stopping its bounce. He tilted his head against the back of the couch and released a large billow of smoke skyward, casting the room in a sickly sweet haze.

“She’s right, man,” he continued. “It’s not fair of me to take her from her gallery. She worked too hard for this.”

He sat up, offered the joint to his friend. Steve declined, head already starting to spin.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit. “I need you to protect her.” 

Steve nodded. That was the easiest thing his friend had ever asked him to do.

“While I’m away, think you could do me another favor?

More smoke billowed from the man’s pink lips, that familiar Munson charm tugging at the corners of his mouth until his teeth were bared in that irresistible grin he was so famous for. He leaned forward then, gesturing for Steve to meet him at the center of the coffee table.

Steve leaned forward, and then a little more when the gesturing didn’t stop, rolling his eyes. “What now?”

Eddie’s smile fell to something far more serious, concern etched in his features, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes big like a baby deer in the headlights. Steve had only seen him this scared a handful of times. “I need you to use those killer wingman skills of yours to make her fall in love with me.” 

Steve’s mouth almost fell open. He had to clench his jaw to keep from doing so, blinking across the six-inch gap at his friend. He could taste the weed on the other boy’s lips, the sweat off his brow. 

“Please, man. I can’t lose her.” 

—

Robin: You said yes!? How much do you actually hate yourself, Harrington?

Steve: You don’t want me to answer that, do you?

Robin: Was it the baby deer eyes?

Steve: Obviously.

Steve thanked Becky at the front desk with a wink, desperate the ego stroke he got every time she smiled at him like he hung the moon on a string. 

Mood boosted, he balanced the coffee order in one hand and his phone in the other and ducked into the nearest elevator that would take him to the penthouse. 

Steve: What do we think of Front Desk Becky?

Robin: You leave that sweet girl out of this. 

Sufficiently deflated by his wise best friend, Steve keyed in the code to Eddie’s penthouse and let himself back in. Your sneakers remained on the entry rug, camera bag discarded on a nearby table. 

Eddie’s bedroom door was open, satin sheets crumpled and pillows stacked to accommodate one. Upon quick glance, the ceiling mirror reveled the room to be empty. 

Steve frowned. He hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

He pressed forward down the hall and into the open living space, setting the cardboard coffee carrier on the kitchen island before turning to find you pressed against the glass, silhouetted in pink morning sunlight. Eddie’s face was buried into your neck, hands unseen, and your eyelids were heavy, pink lips bowed in ecstasy.

Steve froze. He knew he should look away, leave the room, make a noise, but his gaze lingered on the soft skin of your thigh hitched up Eddie’s leg, the curve of your calf, the point of your toe. 

He could hear his heartbeat thundering, breath held, desperate not to make a sound or to scream and run. 

Eddie dipped to his knees, mouth finding purchase lower on your chest.

Steve caught your gaze. Your eyes widened, and you shoved Eddie away from you and scrambled to cover bare skin with an oversized black hoodie. 

“Steve,” you breathed, and Jesus it was dizzying. “I’m so sorry. I thought you left.” You pulled the hoodie down in a vain attempt at covering your thighs, looking everywhere but at the bodyguard in the kitchen.

He felt his own face warm, tapping fingertips to the countertops. His throat felt tight, a loss for words. His pants felt tighter.

“I ordered us coffee, Sugar,” Munson recovered the quickest, taking your hand to help himself off the floor and lead you into the kitchen.

You resisted his pull, taking a few steps back to say, “I’m going to get ready.”

“Need help?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a dog. Steve tried to ignore how wet the man’s lips looked.

You shook your head, venturing a glance Steve’s direction and looking immediately away when you were caught. Then you slunk off back to the bedroom from whence you came.

When he finally heard the click of the door, Steve frowned at his employer. “Guess I should’ve knocked.” 

Eddie waggled his brows at Steve, too, taking his cup from the carrier and managing a sip. 

Steve was ready with an ice water to cool the man’s burned tongue. “Does this mean you made up?”

Eddie shook his head fervently, tonguing at his water like a dog. “Hell no. She told me she’s going to the gallery today because, and I quote, she ‘can’t be held hostage in this velvet prison forever’.”

Steve grinned over his own steaming coffee and shrugged in commiseration to his friend.

Eddie nodded, took a gentler sip of his own coffee this time. “Had to shut her up when she started telling me to ‘have fun in the UK’ and maybe I should look up some old friends while I’m there.” 

Steve swallowed and nodded. “I mean, Lizzie.” 

“Don’t make me pin you to that window, Harrington,” the rockstar warned, inked finger extended with a scowl. 

Steve followed his point to the window, wherein he could just make out the smudges of four distinct handprints, two much smaller than the others. There was also the faintest of smudges where your ass had been pressed against the glass. Steve coughed at the saliva gathering in his mouth.

“Eds?” You called upon reentry, voice echoing off concrete floors. “I’m leaving. I’ll… call you or something.” You were dressed and you had a tube of lipgloss in your hand, uncorked. 

Eddie scrambled for you, scooping you up in his arms. 

You stiffened, glancing up at the bodyguard keeping watch in the corner. 

Steve swallowed, made himself look busy. 

“Sugar, Steve’s going to keep an eye on you, just until we figure this death threat thing out, okay?” Eddie cleared the hair from your face.

Steve glanced back up to see you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter. No offense, Steve.” You held a hand up to him. 

“He’s not a babysitter,” Eddie snapped, “and he’s going to keep you safe. I can’t lose you. You hear me?” He pulled your gaze back to him, cupping your small jaw in large hands. “I love you.” 

“Eddie,” you winced, tugging at his wrists.

The rockstar dropped his hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, and he turned to give Steve a pleading look before he turned back to you. “Alright, Sug. I’ll see you in two months. I’ll call as often as I can.” 

“Okay,” you nodded and allowed him to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

—

Your lipstick stained the lid of your lavender latte, peachy pink. Your nails were freshly manicured for the gallery opening, and you always wore that delicate gold ring on your middle finger. 

You set your cup on the countertop and didn’t look up from your laptop to say, “If you’re bored, you don’t have to stay here. I promise I’ll tell Eddie I never left your sight.” 

Steve smiled over his own cup. “I’m not bored.” To appear occupied, he settled onto the desk behind yours and pulled out his phone.

The first image on his feed was yours, something you’d managed to snap of the old woman and her husband from the opening. They stared at the portrait of their apartment building, hand-in-hand, and you’d taken it at just the right instant, when the husband was smiling down at his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Jones • Chicago

The gallery opening was everything I’d ever hoped for. Thank you to all sponsors and patrons who attended and to everyone who helped pull this together. If you’d like to check out my work, please drop by the gallery and say hello.

Steve hummed to himself, double-tapping, and typed a comment.

sharrington: Best gallery opening I’ve been to.

“Steve,” you scolded, “quit commenting on my shit. I’m standing right here.” It was the first smile he’d seen since yesterday. 

“Oh, sorry,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest again to say, “Yours was the best gallery opening I’ve been to.”

That beautiful smile tugged even higher on your cheeks, despite your eye roll. “It was the only gallery opening you’ve been to.”

“You don’t know that,” he feigned offense.

You cocked a brow, bursting his facade until you were both snickering a laugh.

“Okay, but come on,” he pushed himself off the desk and strolled out into the open gallery. Egg shell white walls were naturally lit by skylights and the fourth glass wall of the small space. “This place was packed with people obsessed with your work, myself included.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, but remained behind the shelter of your desk. “Which one’s your favorite?”

A bubble of giddy excitement kicked in his chest, and he turned to face your artwork. The sunlight reflecting off the lake was good, the streak of streetlights in the rain, a collection of big, red brick buildings: all of these were his favorite. You’d managed to capture his city in unique and beautiful ways.

He pointed at each one and glanced back to see you shaking your head, eyes brightening and mouth failing to hide that smile.

Finally, he found that photo of the L he was admiring that night and wrapped his knuckles near it. “This one. You managed to capture no plastic bags.”

You rolled your eyes, but let his gesture pull you from your desk. “You can’t see it, but there was one caught around my ankle when I took the shot.”

Steve laughed. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.” 

You sucked your cheeks in a pout and glanced down the row at all of your photos, your accomplishments on display. “Steve,” you muttered. “Can I… vent for a second?”

“Of course,” he nodded, turning to face you, giving you his undivided attention.

You turned your body toward him as well, hands tucked under your arms. “It’s about Eddie.”

Steve felt his brow raise, but he nodded, miming the zip of his lips and extending you the key.

You chewed around another smile and extended your hand for him to place the invisible key into and wrapped your beautiful fingers around it. Then, you looked back at your photograph and chewed on your words.

Steve leaned forward to catch your gaze, pull your focus back on him.

You sighed, shrugged. “It’s just… Eddie’s used to having women fall at his feet and do whatever he says, isn’t he?”

Steve tried to keep his expression stoic, but it was hard when he thought of all the bras he’d kicked off of a stage, all of the groupies Eddie fingered in the wings, all of the women he’d had to call a ride share for to ensure they got home safely, too wobbly on their legs to drive.

You barked a laugh. “I know he is because I’m one of them.” You didn’t seem amused.

Steve frowned, shook his head. You deserve more credit than that. You weren’t like the others, not by a long shot.

“He came to my opening, right? He saw how important this was to me. Hell, he told you to help me run it because he had faith in me that it was going to be big.” You gestured around wildly as you spoke, frustration building in your tone. “And yet, he expects me to just pack up everything and fly to England for two months?”

Steve swallowed, chewing on his own words now.

“I know, it’s because he’s worried about me, and I do appreciate that, but it’s also like… I feel like he didn’t know what he had in me until he saw me get spooked, and now he’s trying to lock me down.” You frowned. “I can’t be broken. I’m not a horse.”

Steve nodded.

You paused a moment longer before looking into his eyes again. “If I ask you something, you promise to be honest with me?”

He nodded again, slowly. He’d do anything for you.

“Do you think he’s really in love with me?”

Steve’s heart shattered at the hope that lingered in your voice. He swallowed, remembered his promise to Eddie, and nodded.

You let out another strained laugh, as though you couldn’t believe it, and centered yourself before asking another. “Do you think he’s going to sleep with other women while he’s away?”

Again, Steve steeled himself with a deep breath, and shook his head. Eddie wouldn’t if he knew what was good for him, and what was good for him was you.

You cocked a brow, unbelieving of this answer, and toyed with another question in your mind for a moment. “Do you think I should go with him to England?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gesturing around at your beautiful gallery. Two months with Eddie Munson wasn’t worth giving all of this up. If he was serious, and he really did love you, he’d prove it to you when he got back. 

Your lips ticked upwards at that answer. “Hey, this zipped-lip Steve thing is kind of fun. I should have made you shut up a long time ago.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and snorted at your delight.

You reached your hands out to grab his, swinging them back and forth between the two of you. Your hands were warm and and small and soft. “Hey, Steve, is there something you really, really want to tell me, but can’t? Because you can, you know.” You smirked. “This is a safe space. We’re all friends here.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting your face in a golden glow. Your eyes sparkled, cheeks round, lips that soft, peachy pink.

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, he didn’t know where to start. So he caressed the backs of your hands with his thumbs and nudged you ever-closer.

The toes of your sneakers touched. Your eyelashes batted. You tilted your face skyward to look up at him. You licked your lips.

God, he wished he could kiss you. He wished he could taste the lavender of your latte and the length of your throat. He wished he could press you to the glass and let the world know you were his. He wished he could tell you every day for the rest of his life how beautiful you are, how talented you are, how perfect you are. 

The smile fell from your face. You released one of his hands to brush hair from his forehead. 

He held his breath. 

You searched his gaze for something, your own features filled with worry, and you nodded. “You’re really scared about this Jason Carver guy, huh?”

Steve blinked. He’d forgotten entirely about the roses, the death threat, the reason he’d been paid to spend time with you, to watch over you, to protect you. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at your hand in his. He brushed the back of it again with his thumb. His throat was tight, voice raw. “I just want to keep you safe.”

A bell rang, putting a few feet between you. You adjusted your hair and straightened your top before shooting him a ‘wish me luck’ look and stepping away to greet your newest buyer.

—

Hopper: No leads on that delivery. I’ve got Callahan asking around. Powell’s looking into Carver. Keep me posted on other developments.

Steve tapped nervous fingers to the deli’s glass countertops, craning his neck for a vantage on your gallery windows. 

You’d practically forced him out, insisting this was your favorite sandwich place in town and nothing else would suffice. When he offered to pay for delivery, you reminded him how uncomfortable you felt with deliverers right now and promised you’d lock the door behind him. He wished he could have convinced you to join him.

“Dude, we’re going as fast as we can,” the sandwich artist snapped, cutting pastrami into thin slices. 

Steve frowned back at him, confused for a moment, before taking his hand from the glass and shoving it into his jeans pocket. “Oh, sorry.” His foot tapped instead.

An 80s love ballad played over the speakers, and the whole place smelled of cold cuts. A small line had formed behind the counter of people going about their day-to-day. 

Steve looked at each one of them as a suspect. Though, he was pretty sure Babushka in the headscarf wasn’t eliciting death threats to beautiful girls via three dozen red roses. She felt more like the cast-a-spell type. 

He snorted and glanced back out the window just in time to see a black car pull up to the gallery. A man stepped out. 

“Forty-five?” The deli employee called out.

Steve took a few steps toward the window, squinting against the glare to see a tall man with white hair approach the glass. He wrapped two knuckles on the front door. You met him there.

“Dude, your sandwiches!” The guy behind the counter called, and Steve cursed, grabbing them with a thanks and a nod.

He glanced up just in time to see you unlocking and opening the gallery door, and he began to run your direction.

“Hey, man! You forgot your pickles! Asshole…” 

The wind whipped at his ears, and he nearly ran out in front of a moving vehicle. The driver honked and flipped him off, and Steve waited for him to pass before checking both ways and crossing to get to you again. 

He made a mental note of the black car’s license plate: GCCF and swung open the gallery door with a ring of the bell. 

The man stood beside you, tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a haircut that hadn’t changed since the early 70s. He wore a grey suit, and a black tie, and a smile as he admired your photos.

You smiled at Steve from across the space and waved.

Relief warmed Steve’s spine, and he toed to the desktop to place the sandwich bag, careful not to make any noise so he could overhear bits of your conversation.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you said, even-keeled, though Steve knew you were bursting inside. “I’m honored for the invitation.” 

“I’m glad you agree,” the man chuckled. “Your talent really is a gift to this city, and we’ll be proud to display your work in our halls.” 

You were beaming. Steve’s stomach flipped.

“Now, our guests usually love to speak with the artists featured in the auction. Are you free Friday evening? Could I coax you to attend?” The man turned to face you now, reaching into his inside pocket for something.

Steve took two steps forward. 

The man extended you a small, white slip of paper. 

You read it over with a tight-lipped nod. Then you smiled. “I would love to go.” 

“Excellent,” the man nodded. “It is black tie. Could I give my assistant the name of a plus-one?” 

You swallowed before answering. “Sure, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve felt his face warm, and he nearly tripped over a power cord stepping back behind the desk. 

The man you were speaking to nodded with a knowing smile and glanced down at his watch. “Well, unfortunately I must be going. I have a lunch meeting to attend. Good timing too, it seems as if your lunch has arrived, and it smells delicious.” He ventured a glance Steve’s direction, and the bodyguard squared his shoulders. 

“Thank you so much for dropping by, and for your business. I look forward to the event.” You smiled, extending a hand for the stranger to shake.

He reciprocated your gesture. “Thank you for your work, my dear. It is breathtaking. Expect that deposit by end of day, and we’ll see you Friday evening. Have a great day.” 

“You too.” 

Steve watched you watch the man walk to the door and get into his car. Your chest was still, breath held until the black car was started and began to drive. 

Then, you began to jump up and down, screaming, like a teenaged girl who had just been asked to prom. 

Steve frowned, shaking his t-shirt to dry the sweat that clung to his back. “What’s going on?”

You grinned and did an adorable little skip and hop back to your desk, sliding two pieces of paper across for him to read. Then, you broke into the sandwich bag.

Steve peered down at a stark white business card with grey lettering, and a matching invitation. 

Martin Brenner

Founder and CEO

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Annual Gala and Live Auction

“So, this guy, Brenner or whatever,” you explained, peeling the parchment paper from your bread, “just came in and bought my entire playground collection. Can you believe it? All nine photos. He said he’s going to hang them in the halls of his school.” The sound that came from your lips exceeded dogs’ hearing in pitch.

Steve bit back a smile to let you continue.

You took a huge bite of your sandwich first, olive oil clinging to the corner of your lips and dripping down the back of your hand. 

Steve shook a napkin from the paper bag and handed it to you.

You thanked him, mouth full, and swallowed before mopping your face. “Then he says he wants to offer up another one of my pieces in their annual live auction.”

Steve snapped a photo of the two cards and sent them to his contacts in the police force for some background information, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“Do you own a tuxedo, by the way?” You asked, cheek chipmunked.

Steve frowned back at you. He’d been head of security for Corroded Coffin for upwards of six years. He’d been to more award shows than he could count. Of course he had a tuxedo. 

“What?” You feigned innocence, cracking into one of the sodas you’d pulled from the vending machine while you waited for Steve to return. “If you have to be my new bodyguard, I can’t go to this gala alone.”

He sighed and began to neatly unfold his own sandwich, lettuce falling every which way. “Yes, I have a tuxedo.” 

“Really?” You grinned. “I should bring my camera.” 

He shot you a look. “You going to tell me why you unlocked the door for a random stranger while I was picking up your lunch?” 

You swallowed. “He sent me an email?”

Steve maintained eye contact while he popped the tab on his own soda, shoulders squared. He felt like a dad every time he interrogated Eddie for late nights out with no correspondence. The stance didn’t translate well to Robin over text. 

“I figured I could take an old man,” you shrugged.

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, for now, Steve took a bite into his sandwich and stared back down at the business card on the tabletop, hoping this guy didn’t have any ties to Carver or whoever it was that sent you that note.

“No pickles?” You frowned, peeking into the mostly empty paper sack.

—

1 Voicemail

Hey, kid. It’s Hopper. Brenner’s one of Chicago elites, but as far as we know he’s harmless. He runs that school for gifted kids. Real pillar of the community type. Could be mob ties, but who the hell in this city doesn’t have mob ties? 

Couldn’t find anything on the delivery company, and no florists in town filled orders that big. Something’s definitely off. Powell spoke to Carver’s assistant, but he was out of the office. Keep an eye out.

Joyce wanted me to invite you and the girl to dinner. Stay safe, kid. Let me know if anything else comes up.

Lucas: All safely on the plane and ready for take off. England won’t be the same without you, man. Take care.

Eddie: Ready for take off. Thanks for taking care of my girl, big man. See you in two months.

Robin: You’re sitting in your car watching her apartment? You’re a creep, Harrington. Please tell me you don’t know the color of her bra tonight.

Steve groaned and rubbed at tired eyes.

He hated that he knew your bra was a soft, stone grey. He’d seen the strap slip down your arm. You’d caught it and pushed it back up, mid-conversation with a browser this afternoon. 

He glanced up from the glare of his phone at your open front window. He couldn’t see anything substantial from this vantage, just the shadows cast on dimly lit ceilings as you moved around your home. 

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should go home and rest. No more threats had been issued today, that he knew of. You seemed to be less afraid than you were the day before, and with Eddie gone, maybe you weren’t in as much harm as you had been. Still, something gnawed at him. 

Steve startled when his phone began vibrating in his hand. Your name, and a photo of you grinning back at him, filled his little car with light. He answered. “Hello?”

“I can see you.”

Steve gulped and shifted to look back up at your window. You stood there in an oversized sweatshirt, waggling your fingers.

“Come inside, please.”

“What?”

“Bring your fedora and binoculars and come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”

You met him at the door in baggy clothes with two glasses of wine in your hand. You waited for him to step out of his shoes and shrug off his jacket before handing him one glass, and then you led him to the little futon propped up into a sofa near a loved coffee table.

A few candles burned, casting everything in flickered shadows. The place smelled of lavender and honey and smoky amber. 

“So,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping from your glass. You pulled your legs up to be crossed and tilted yourself to face him. “Tell me about this Carver guy.” 

Steve frowned, stretching an arm across the back of the couch to appear comfortable.

“Well, if it’s serious enough that Eddie’s got you staking out my apartment, I need to know who I’m up against.” You frowned, taking another sip from your glass, the legs spilling from your sweet lips and back into the liquid. 

Charity events attracted a diverse crowd, metal bands and church groups converging for the greater cause, their own positive PR. Knocked elbows at the start of the night often led to knockouts once the open bar started flowing. The mob made connections and burned bridges and somehow, the world kept turning.

One such event, Steve had eyes on Munson from across the room. The rockstar was flirting with some senator-to-be or another, a good friend of the Obamas, if he remembered correctly. Sinclair had eyes on the other band members at other tables. They all seemed happy, buzzed, low-key despite studded tuxedos.

Steve clocked the approach before Eddie had. A blonde man in a white suit caught sight and B-lined from near the stage.

Steve crossed to intercept him, stopping the young man with two fingers to his chest before he could get around the final linen-covered table. “Can I help you?”

The stranger’s face split in a menacing grin that sent chills down his spine. Never in his life had Steve felt something so cold. All his instincts went on high alert, fight or flight. One fist clenched at his side.

“I was just hoping for a little tête-á-tête with Mr. Munson,” the man gestured a hand out.

Steve dropped his hand, noticing the steel tie pin in the shape of a cross. “He’s busy at the moment, but let me take down your information, and we’ll see if we could find time for you at a later function.” 

“Are you his secretary or his babysitter?” Still with the grin, dead between the eyes.

“Why? You looking for a playdate?” Steve squared his shoulders, inches taller than the other man. 

“I’m just looking to ask one question.” 

“Shoot,” Eddie approached from behind Steve, shoulders squared in the same manner as his bodyguard. 

The other man tucked his hand into white jacket, and Steve stuck his hand in front of Eddie, just in case, until Carver retrieved his business card and handed it over. Sleek, white, with grey lettering.

Reverend Jason Carver

Faithful Servant of Christ

“Do you, Mr. Munson, take responsibility for casting yourself and all of your followers to the very depths of Hell to burn for an eternity?” 

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Carver, but he could feel Eddie’s grin growing beside him. 

“You’re damn right I do.”

Carver seemed just as pleased with this answer as the rockstar had been. He nodded, an odd twinkle in his eye, and said, “Thank you so much, Mr. Munson. I hope you and your hell hound have a lovely evening.” 

That was the one and only time Steve had met the man, and he’ll never forget the weight of his presence. 

You’d set your wine glass on the coffee table beside his, and you were curled closer now, frown creasing your sweet brow. “And then he burned that place down in Milwaukee?” 

Steve sighed, playing with a loose thread on the futon, fingertips dangerously close to your shoulder. He wished he could sweep your hair back, kiss the crease from your forehead, reassure you he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

“Well, first, he had all of the funding pulled from that almost-senator, set her up for public exposure, basically ruined her entire life. When asked to comment, he said ‘jezebels and harlots get what they deserve’. Fucking asshole.” Steve scoffed.

There was a far-off look in your eye, like you were considering the weight of those words when compared to you.

Without a second thought, Steve brushed his knuckles against your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. “Hey, you know I’ll never let anyone hurt you, right?”

You surprised him by leaning into his touch, nodding. You released a shaky laugh, your voice caught in your throat. “I was really trying to be brave.”

Steve smiled, and opened his mouth to tell you you were, to tell you you were beautiful, to tell you he’s been in love with you from the moment he met you because you were all of those things.

Your phone began ringing, loud and incessant, a vibration from the coffee table that lit up the room with a photo of Eddie’s face. 

You ducked away from Steve’s touch and patted at warmed cheeks, reaching for your phone. “I should probably get this.”

Steve nodded, cleared his throat, reached forward to take a long swig of alcohol. It went down dry. 

“I actually think I’ll go to bed.” You silenced your phone and stood up, backing slowly from the living room. “You don’t mind the futon, right? Here are some extra blankets and a pillow.” You gestured toward a little wicker basket beside the sofa. “Use whatever you’d like in the bathroom.”

Steve stood to mirror you, hoping his smile seemed more reassuring than he felt. “Sleep tight. If you need anything…”

You nodded, smiled. “Thank you. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.” 

Halfway down the hallway, you answered your phone, sweet nothings murmured for someone else.

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

[A/N: So yeah, this just kind of... came out of me. It's been cooking since February, but I've sat down like three times over the last week and spewed out 10k. And I got too excited to wait to post it, so here you are. Please give me all your thoughts and feelings. Is bodyguard!Steve my new favorite Steve? Is rockstar!Eddie my new favorite Eddie? Maybe so. xoxoxo]

[tonteenyton]

Telling them that they are short/small

A/N: this is my first reaction post, please be kind🧎🙏. I’m posting this after a long nap so if there are errors pardon me. I also love this pic :>

Shotaro:

You had been sitting next to the sleepy man for a few hours now. His body spread out on the soft rug as he played with the loose threads. Looking over at his limp body, you realized how small your boyfriend looked. Standing up, he was taller but on the ground he was as small as you.

“Taro- you’re so tiny-“ the words had slipped out of your mouth. “I mean- I would put you in my pocket.”

“Really? I wish I could fit. I want to go with you wherever.” He looked up at you with his big eyes and a sleepy smile.

Good thing he found you adorable or else he would have squared up. Though, he did like that you found him adorable enough to call the man of his size tiny.

Eunseok:

Boy was he hurt. You had only told him, “baby- you look so small.” You had only said it as a compliment. You found his appearance adorable.

Eunseok was dressed in fluffy pajamas and wore a Cookie Monster headband. How could you not call him small and adorable. He was so soft looking with flushed cheeks and a dopey grin.

“Small? I’m taller than you. I’m taller than most people.”

“I- didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’ll show you how big I am.” Eunseok stumbled onto his two feet and stood up like Superman. He puffed his chest out and sang the theme song. “Look!” He had a stupid smirk on his face as he stood on the tips of his toes.

“Yeah…yeah…I get it. You’re not small.”

Sungchan:

Here you were, underneath Sungchan as he has you pinned against the wall. The pencil above your head marked your height. Making sure to get an accurate measurement, he erased it a few times before he was satisfied.

“Really Channie?” You squirmed out of his grip and looked at the great difference. “I only called you small as a joke.”

“Well- do I need to remind you that I’m the tallest person you know?”

“Actually-my ex was-“

“Do I have to measure my dick next?”

Wonbin:

“I could never be with someone below 6 feet. Like they would be so short.”

Sitting on the couch, Wonbin had his head buried in your neck while listening to you go on about your friend’s boyfriend. He had been attentively listening until you insulted him. “Huh?”

“It’s an ick Binnie.”

“I’m an ick?” He looked at you with his big round eyes and tight lips. “I’m not 6 feet.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Wrapping your arms around him, you rubbed his back. “You can still reach the plates.”

“You’re confusing me…”

“No I’m not.” You peppered his cheeks with kisses. “You’re prefect the way you are. We fit perfectly.” You patted his butt, reassuring him.

The perfect image, Wonbin on your lap as he buried his flustered face in your neck. You underneath him, almost buried underneath his broad frame. This image was the perfect one. Your small boyfriend fit perfectly.

Seunghan:

“You’re so small~”you held onto the flimsy photo as you adored him. Swooning over the adorable toddler in the photo, you suddenly felt a shiver run down your spine.

“I’m not small…”Seunghan glared at you with pouty lips. He looked exactly like the photo, sending you into orbit. His adorable cheeks and downward lips ate you alive.

“But you are-“ You squished his cheeks and suppressed a giggle. “You’re still a baby.”

“That you made out with a few minutes ago.” Seunghan turned his head around, gently bitting your finger.

“Don’t say that.” You smacked his arms before pushing him away. “I just want to put tiny you in my pocket forever.”

“Whatever, I’m not small.”

“Sure you aren’t Seungie.” You gave his butt a firm pat. “Small boy.”

Sohee (MY BOY):

Sohee was the sweetest yet goofiest man you had ever met. You had seen a few tik tok videos where girls were calling their boyfriends short. The thing was, he wasn’t short, just shorter than his members and he was around his members a lot.

“Sohee? Baby?” You looked around for your boyfriend, lifting covers up and looking underneath furniture. By no means was he “small” but he was small enough to hide in places.

Exhausted from all the searching, you fell onto the couch, only to hit something. To your surprise a little groan came from behind the mountain of pillows.

“Sohee?!”

“Mhm?” His head poked out of the mountain with a dopey grin and sleepy eyes. “Hi~”

“I was looking everywhere for you! My small boyfriend~” You stood up before jumping onto the pillows.

Sohee let out a gasp of air and wrapped his arms around you. “Hi, other small baby~” His warm body enveloped yours and trapped you. “Sleep-“

Anton:

“Am I intimidating?”

“Intimidating in a beautiful way? yes.” You mixed the bowl of bibimbap, trying to enjoy your dinner in peace when you were bombarded with several questions. “Why?”

“No- like scary?” Anton stared at his reflection on his phone and tried to make a mean scowl. He scrunched his adorable nose and tried squinting his eyes.

“You look like a small Maltese.” Mixing the bowl, you were going to take a bite when you were suddenly knocked down by tremendous force. “Ow!”

On top of you was a sulky Anton who was whining like a big baby. “I’m not someone’s dumb dog.”

“That hurt!” You smacked his back, trying to get up. However, the more you resisted, the more he whined. “Anton, you’re acting like a little baby.”

“I don’t need you to protect me-“

“Ok ok. If I give you a bite will you get off?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Bark first you small-.”

[n0vazsq]

hii, could you please do Marc Bernal bf!headcanons? Thank you :)

Marc Bernal Boyfriend Headcanons

pairing . . . marc bernal x gf!reader

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . hii! yes ofc!!!! probably my fav headcanons i ever did?? i did like 5 but who cares anyway idk if they were good or nah but yeah! tysm for requesting <3

bf!marc . . . ALWAYS has his arm around your waist when you go outside or when you two are in public

bf!marc . . . who's social media consists mainly of you and the little stuff you do together

bf!marc . . . who takes photos of you or you two on your polaroid camera and hangs them up in the fridge or keeps saves them somewhere safe

bf!marc . . . who always hugs you from behind randomly

bf!marc . . . who has his hand in yours at all times

bf!marc . . . who compliments you at the most unexpected times

"you look so beautiful, mi cielo" "how can you be so pretty?" "there isnt a better girl than you on this entire earth" "i love you more than love itself, got that, mi vida?"

bf!marc . . . who makes fun of your height difference, whether it was a few centimeters or an entire foot

bf!marc . . . who always leaves kisses on your face to wake you up

bf!marc . . . who drags you along to the pitch after a match win so he can kiss you in front of the crowd and celebrate with you

bf!marc . . . who buys you boquets of flowers every five days so the previous ones don't wilt

"i got you another one, i saw the last ones we're drooping a bit" "these flowers reminded me of you, hermosa, so i got you a bunch of them"

bf!marc . . . who LOVES to call you spanish nicknames, like mi vida, mi cielo, hermosa, mi amor

bf!marc . . . who would ask his mom for advice when he doesn't know what to get you

bf!marc . . . who plans date nights for you two when he knows you're stressed from work or school

bf!marc . . . who would ask to help you everytime you looked the tiniest bit tired

bf!marc . . . who would run his hands through your hair to put you to sleep

bf!marc . . . who makes you run your hands through his hair because it helps him relax and makes him feel safe

bf!marc . . . who would kiss you until you both ran out of breath, only to start kissing you again once you got a huff of air

bf!marc . . . always sends you little texts throughout the day, either to check on you or to tell you that he loves you

bf!marc . . . who has to kiss you at least once a day or he gets into a bad mood and takes it out into everyone (expect you ofc)

bf!marc . . . who would silently cry when watching sad movies with you, not wanting you to hear him get emotional after claiming that he was 'tough and didn't cry over fake stories'

"i'm not crying, amor! these tears are just from dry air" "you're crying! not me!" "why did you have to pick such a depressing movie, mi cielo? and how aren't you crying?"

bf!marc . . . who has a picture of you in his wallet, phonecase, and car

bf!marc . . . who has you saved as his lockscreen and wallpaper, changing it only to put a more recent picture of you

bf!marc . . . who buys you the stuff you eye for too long in the shops but walk out without

"you were staring at this for too long so i bought it for you"

bf!marc . . . who would carry you on his back when you got tired from walking or felt sleepy while out in public

bf!marc . . . who would quietly learn your habits and your love language, eventually shifting around his personality and routine to match them

bf!marc . . . who would randomly get you gifts because they reminded him of you

bf!marc . . . who REFUSES to let you pay no matter what, only letting you when you give him pleading eyes

bf!marc . . . who has memorised every single inch, curve and part of your body

bf!marc . . . who HAS to remind you that he loves you no matter what you two were doing

"did i tell you that i loved you very much today?" "i love you" "morning, mi cielo. i love you so much"

bf!marc . . . who would cave in and do all the tiktok trends you wanted to do with him

bf!marc . . . who would learn how to do hair and how to braid it so he can style your hair into pretty hairstyles

bf!marc . . . who would have a lovesick look on his eyes no matter you were wearing or doing

"i don't care that you're wearing pyjamas and have no makeup on, you look more gorgeous than those famous supermodels"

bf!marc . . . who, despite all the teasing and jokes, will always kiss you and hug you in front of his teammates just to show you off

bf!marc . . . who always make sure that you feeling comfortable telling him stuff before he makes you talk

bf!marc . . . who tells you EVERYTHING that happens with his team or life

bf!marc . . . who loves you so much that he feels it's impossible to describe it

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 1. Appearance

In the canon, he's described as handsome 3 times from Harry's point of view - but never pretty. By the way, Harry has only described four people as handsome (+ Tom Riddle, Cedric Diggory and Gellert Grindelwald).

"Sirius was tall and handsome. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face."

"Beside him was Sirius, carelessly handsome, his slightly arrogant face so much younger and happier than Harry had ever seen it alive."

"Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so."

"Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’s nor Harry’s could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed."

"He's still handsome, isn't he, even after Azkaban?" (Tonks about Sirius, Pottermore)

So, Sirius was handsome, but definitely not pretty. The word handsome can be used for all genders, highlighting attributes like strength, elegance, or a more classic form of beauty.

His height is described as tall several times. James is described as the same height as Harry in the Deathly Hallows, meaning at the time of his death James was as tall as Harry in the 7th book: “James was exactly the same height as Harry”. He was described as tall in later books but not as tall as other characters like Dumbledore, Ron, Sirius, Draco, Tom Riddle, Bill.

In England, as in most Western countries, a man is usually considered tall if he is over 6 feet. Typically, very tall is considered to be 6 feet 3 inches and above. So, James could be somewhere from 6 to 6'3", and Sirius taller, say 6'3"-6'4", Remus possibly under 6', but not short, since Harry doesn't note his height at all.

"To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much admired rebels that James and Sirius had been."

The average head length of an adult, regardless of gender and age, usually about 8.7 to 9.8 inches. So, Peter was noticeably shorter.

6'3"-6'4" is indeed very tall. (When fanon gives Remus a height of 6.7, I wonder, have you often seen such giants in real life? My granddad is 6'8" – and he's huge to me, frighteningly so.)

After Azkaban and in the fifth book, he has long hair, but in the fourth book, when Sirius is doing well and is relaxing somewhere in the south, he has short hair.

"Sirius looked different – the hair was short and clean now, Sirius’ face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph Harry had of him, which had been taken at the Potters’ wedding."

"Sirius, when he still had short hair" (Moody about Sirius in the Order of the Phoenix photo)

Though in the story about Sirius and James for the auction, Sirius had long hair in 1977:

"The one who had been driving had long black hair; his insolent good looks reminded Fisher unpleasantly of his daughter’s guitar-playing, layabout boyfriend."

I prefer him with long hair, so that's usually what I go with.

Build isn't described. We know Regulus was definitely smaller than Sirius, but nothing specific about Sirius himself.

"Regulus was instantly recognisable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: he had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter and rather less handsome than Sirius had been."

His animagus form is a bear-like dog of huge size, but that’s a weak argument.

"The enormous, bear-like dog bounded forwards."

Perhaps canonically Sirius was naturally inclined to muscle (i.e., tall and muscular rather than lanky, because lankiness usually suggests skinniness. Regulus, likely, was lanky), but since he probably didn't engage in activities like workouts, he wasn't exactly buff. Muscles don't just appear out of thin air, but some people are naturally more muscular. Basically, a normal build that doesn't need any special description (not bulky, not skinny, just normal, but tall).

He definitely doesn’t have any tattoos described, but it's unlikely Harry would have inspected every part of his body for tattoos... So, I don’t quite get it when someone says "Sirius didn’t have tattoos". It's a blank slate.

[bluewatersfairy]

homebody - l.b.

loosely inspired by homebody by kalin white (a/n: i've been wanting to use this song for a longgg time)

synopsis: requested by @bemybinarystar! two people meet by chance on an app that thrives on anonymity and begin an x-rated relationship with one another filled with late night video calls.

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI!! depictions of sex work, mutual masturbation.

word count: 3.2k

•••

Melo grabbed his laptop and climbed on top of his bed, checking one last time that there were no tell-tale signs in view that would make him identifiable.  This had become a part of his routine and what was once him being cautious was now a natural habit.  He originally didn’t care, it never even crossed his mind, but she had told him he needed to, she didn’t want to know who he was.  That was weird for him to hear too, it reminded him of how different this relationship was.  If you could call it a relationship.

When he had first discovered her, he was doom scrolling on the type of site that was created for late-night rendezvous.  He’d convinced himself he was just curious, he’d laugh about it later and go back to the more traditional way of fulfilling his needs.  But then he saw her smile and he had to stop scrolling.  Her description was limited, her height, tag name, and that she was drawn to the anonymity of the site; tell me something good and maybe we can figure something out.

The only reason Melo had even caught her attention was because his profile looked like a cheap bot: 2 tall, 2 long, fire’n’ice, was all his profile said.  His request sat in her inbox for two days until he sent her another message, ‘you ever think about castles?  they got pretty ones by the lakes in lithuania.’  It was a bizarre opening, but it got him out of her requests and into her inbox.

They messaged back and forth for a full week before anything remotely sexual was discussed.  Melo liked that she wasn’t jumping at his every response and that it looked like she had a life too.  During that week, they hadn’t shared much about themselves, but he felt like she was investigating him, despite the very few questions she asked.  The first time he received the app notification that she’d sent him a picture, his palms started getting sweaty.  

He locked himself in his room, something that would become routine, laid back on his bed and opened her message thread.  It was a tasteful shot of her full thighs and ass peaky out of a red silk slip.  Her deep amber skin against the scarlet made him gulp.  It was so little, nothing he hadn’t seen before, but it pulled his interest and ignited his curiosity.  She had waited for him to see the message before she sent the follow up, ‘your turn…”

Melo had spent the next 10 minutes cleaning his floor and checking that nothing could be seen in the background from his messy room.  He spat in his palm and stroked his hard-on till it was raging and grown.  He held the base of his shaft with one hand and took a photo with the other before sending it through.  

That was two months ago and though neither of them had asked many personal questions, there was this unspoken bond between them.  She didn’t need him to say when he’d had a rough day, and he knew how she needed to be talked to.  He found himself thinking of her at the worst of times and turning to her when he needed a boost.  In return, he’d transfer undisclosed amounts of money to her account.  Again, this was something they hadn’t really talked about, it was an unspoken agreement.

Of course, she never expected him to be so generous.  

At first, she assumed that it was an attempt to impress her and keep her interested in him.  She had told him after maybe a week of exchanging racy pictures that she offered more, but for it to be fair to the other people she entertained, he had to pay a small fee that he felt reflected their time together.  The beauty of the site that she considered her secret life was that she got to choose her clients and could easily report and block people if they ever became aggressive or obsessive.  She’d always managed to attract men who exhibit something she’s attracted to, but she knew “fire’n’ice” was closer to her age and clearly in a high position, and that image was addictive to her.  

When he had first sent her a large sum out of the blue, she’d been 3 hours deep in official documents.  She imagined him in a similar position, probably in slacks and a white button up, trapped in his office thinking about taking her at his desk.  She’d quickly excused herself, citing lady problems, and clicked off to the employee bathroom.

Melo, who was standing in his kitchen heating up one of the several protein-based meals he had made weekly, received a message with 3 attachments.  She was spreading herself open for him, and had framed her tits in such a way, he just wanted to latch on.  He’d groaned loudly and abandoned his meal in favour of his room.  His cock was tight against his pants and the second he freed it, he felt the ache take over his body.  

He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured her, imagining how she posed.  He thrust into his fist and straggled words flew out of his mouth.  In the haze of the moment, he grabbed his phone and opened the camera. 

“Look at my fuckin’ cock, babygirl, look how hard it is for you.” He spat as he finished his sentence, needing more moisture so he could fuck his hand better.  “I bet you’d love to choke on my big fuckin’ dick, aye baby?  I’d fuck your face and finish all over your tits.”  

He paid no mind to what he was saying, he was just talking shit as he thrusted harder and faster into his hand.  His cum spurted all over his desk, some of it landing on his phone screen.  He swore and stopped the recording before bending over, his chest heaving.  He’d never thought to do something like that before.  She hadn’t even made a video for him, she’d only ever sent pictures.  What had she done to him?

The video worked in Lamelo’s favour in more ways than he could have possibly known.  She already had a growing soft spot for mr. fire’n’ice but that video sent him to the top of her list.  He was the first client she reached out to during the days and his sessions were always top priority for her.  It didn’t have much to do with the money, she was just drawn to him in every way a person can be to someone they’ve never met or even seen properly.  He even had her questioning if she should take a step back from her other clients and just entertain him.  

It was bad.  Unprofessional even.  But she couldn’t stop herself.

LaMelo was still checking his background when her call came in, popping up on his screen with her explicit profile icon highlighted with a red ring.  He pressed the green button and did one final adjustment to his laptop so all she could see was below his neck.  He always wore a black wife-beater so that his chest tattoo was mostly covered but so she could still get a good view of his toned torso and the ever growing bulge in his shorts.

“Hi pretty boy,” her ruby red lips pulled into a grin on his screen.  She looked like she was laying on her stomach, her tits pushed together under a slip of vibrant material.  

“‘Sup baby,” Melo swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, “you lookin’ edible.”

She giggled as she ran her hand down her neck before reaching somewhere off camera.  She was sitting up, he realised, before she brought something of a prop on screen.

“I was gonna say I found these today and thought of you,” she giggled again, “I know you’re much bigger, but you can’t tell me that’s not a close match.”  Melo smirked as he watched her twirl two rainbow lolly-cocks in the camera.  

“They not that girthy, you could still fit them in your mouth easy,” Melo felt his dick twitch as she rested her pouty lips on the tip of the lolly.

“Are you saying your dick won’t fit in my mouth?” she bit on her bottom lip and dragged her hand down her chest as she spoke.

“I’m sayin’ it won’t be easy.”  Melo’s hand moved to the bulge in his pants and he gently palmed it.

“I like a challenge,” she smiled, “I’ll make sure it fits baby, you know I’m a good girl for you.”

“Show me.” 

His voice was raspy, and his dick was hard.  She’d caught him at the perfect time and he knew she could tell just how desperate he was for her.  He didn’t care that she knew anymore.  Truthfully, he thought it showed how well they knew each other and how much he trusted her.  

“Of course baby,” she grinned before adjusting her laptop camera slightly.  

Melo watched closely as she spat on the tip of the lolly cock and used her tongue to glide it down.  Kitten licks and teasing kisses quickly turned into her pouty lips wrapped around the head.  The wet sounds her mouth made against the hard lolly did nothing but strengthen the pulse in Melo’s cock.  He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip before readjusting himself, watching as she pushed the lolly further into her mouth.  

“You’re such a good girl, baby,” Melo pushed out with his head leaning back.  He watched her through his eyelashes, picturing her wrapped around him.  His chest rose and fell at a steady pace and his skin flushed pink.  He was getting caught up in the thick of things, he barely processed her transitioning from the lolly cock to one of her dildos.

It was one they had purchased together.  It was a late night call, much like they were currently on, and she had wanted to find something a bit different for the two of them.  Her screen was shared with him as they scrolled through an adult website.  Every now and then Melo would point out one, whether he was being serious or joking was always up for interpretation.  

“I want something that’s like you,” she said sheepishly when Melo had asked why he was involved, “it’s like torture seeing such a pretty and big dick and not be able to ride it.”  

They’d found a dildo similar to his size and when it came in the mail a week later, Melo received a video of her putting it in her mouth, popping it out and pushing it between her tits.  She said she wouldn’t to anything else without him, but he was out of town and sharing a room so it would be a minute until he was going to be able to be alone with her.  It ended up being one of their better calls.  Melo could barely keep his eyes open by the end of it, he felt so fucked out and exhausted, you’d think she had actually been there to suck the soul out of him.  He’d jokingly texted her the next morning saying he had a sore wrist.  It wasn’t a complete joke though, many coaches commented on his shooting being off that day at practice. 

“Oh baby,” she moaned through the camera as she pulled the rubber cock out of her mouth, “touch yourself baby, show me how you stroke it.”

Melo was rock hard.  He hissed as he ran his hand up his thick shaft and circled his thumb over his throbbing head, spreading his leaked pre-cum so she could see it.  She spat on her dildo as he squirted lube on himself.  

“Follow my pace baby,” she instructed, “you know how much I love to push you.”

“I’ll do whatever you say baby,” Melo swallowed and began to stroke his dick as she jacked the dildo.  She switched between going fast and slow, bringing different sounds out of Melo as she encouraged him.  She moaned at every twitch of his dick and felt herself growing hotter and hotter with each stroke.

“Fuck,” she spat out as Melo had to let go of his cock, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut, “you wanna cum don’t you baby?”

“I don’t wanna,” Melo groaned as he smacked his cock, “you just drive me crazy Ma.”  His eyes refocused on his screen to find she’d changed positions.

She was sitting now, her thighs spread so her pussy was on full display.  Melo cussed at the sight of it.  Even through the camera he could tell she was just as heated as he was.  She was visibly swollen and practically dripping.  She giggled as she slipped her fingers through her folds, a visible tremble running through her at the same time.

“Look how ready I am for you,” she moaned as she fingered her clit, “you’d stretch me out so good with that big cock.”

“I’d give you the fuck of your life,” Melo gripped his cock again, “have yo ass screamin’.”

She picked up the dildo from her side and rubbed the tip against her entrance, “tell me baby,” she hummed, “tell me how you’d do me.”

“I’d fuck you in so many ways,” he started to jerk his cock again.  “God, I’d fuck you into your mattress baby, giving you the deepest strokes of your life.  You’ve never had a dick like this.”

“No I haven’t,” she whined, pushing the dildo inside her, “you’d have to go slow with me, I wanna make sure I feel every inch of you.”  she let out a gasp of a pet name, her free hand gripping on to her tit.

“God just the sight of your cock makes me feel crazy,” her hips were moving against her hand, pushing the rubber cock in and out, trying desperately to match Melo’s pace.  If he could function enough to think of anything at that moment, he’d appreciate her commitment to making it feel like they were together, fucking.  But his brain wasn’t working anymore.  Everything that came to mind was nothing shy of filth. 

“It’s all yours baby, and you’d look so fucking good bouncing on top of it.”

She moaned at his words, her tits bouncing as she fucked herself harder.  

“This big fucking dick is all yours, whenever you want it, I don’t care where, it’s yours.”

His room filled with a mix of her moans, his heavy breathing and the sound of his hand beating his cock, slapping with how fast he was jerking.

“Oh and this pussy is all yours daddy,” she moaned loudly, “I’m all yours baby.  You can put that pretty dick whereever you want and use me for whatever you need.  I just need you all over me daddy, your big hands wrapped in my hair, around my throat.”

“I’ll slut you out baby,” Melo groaned as he chased her words, “I’ll make you cum so much the whole world gon’ hear.”  

“I’m gonna cum,” she all but screamed, “keep talking, tell me baby, I want to hear you.”

“I’ll fuck you from behind in the mirror, baby.  Smack yo’ ass and pull your hair and make you look me in the eye while you cum all over my big dick.”  Melo repressed a loud moan and swallowed hard.  “We gon’ fuck all night, baby, the second you cum, I’m sticking it right back in there.  I’ll make it so you won’t be able to walk in the morning.”

Melo watched her body react to his words and struggled to process the sight. Her chest was heaving, fucking the dildo in and out of her hole with her hand tight on her clit.  She swore over and over again until her words were nothing but moans and Melo saw everything reach it’s peak.  She pulled the dildo out of her and did everything she could to stop her thighs from clamping shut.

“Holy fuck,” she gasped with her head thrown back and her hands jammed between her thighs.  She collasped against whatever was behind her and Melo watched her spread herself open and squirt.  “Oh baby, I’m cumming so fucking hard.”

Melo just about double over, letting out the loudest moans and groans he’d ever made as his load spurted out of his tip.  He massaged his balls and watched his seed cover his lower stomach and parts of his laptop.

“Fuck,” he sighed as he leaned back and let his dick stand to its own want.  

For a minute, the two of them didn’t move, just panting heavily staring at one another.  Occasionally, he’d stroke his shaft and rub his balls at the same time to see if he had anything left.  She was the first one to move, laying back down to the position she’d been in when the call started.

“Every time I think we’ve reached our peak, you go and do the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she giggled as she put one of her fingers to her lips.

“Tell me how that pussy tastes babe,” he said, his voice audibly strained.  She smirked and put her fingers in her mouth, sucking them off.

“It tastes sweet and creamy,” she let her wet fingers drag down her naked torso to her nipples.

“You’re a fuckin’ problem,” Melo grinned and shook his head, reaching for the rag he washed for this call.

“I’m a problem?” she giggled, pointing to herself, “you’re the one who’s got me thinking of throwing all the policies out the window.”

“Policies?” Melo asked, suddenly brought out of his post-nut daze.  “What are you tryna say?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug, “but don’t you feel it too?  Don’t you want to see my face?  Know my name?”

“I want all of the above, baby,” Melo pulled his laptop closer to him.  “Are you saying there’s more we could do?”

“I’m just thinking out loud here,” she hesitated, “you’re the first person I feel like I’d be safe sharing my secrets with.”  What was she saying?

It was a big confession, she wants to elevate things.  Melo couldn’t decide if it was his money or him but he really didn’t care.  He wanted to have her name and he wanted her to know his name.  But it’s unique, and she’d know exactly who he was if he said it.

Fuck it.

“LaMelo,” he rushed to say, spitting it out before he could think twice.  “I’m LaMelo.”

She smiled wide and he watched as she reached out to her laptop screen and pushed it back slightly.

“I’m Y/N,” she giggled.

LaMelo repeated her name, letting it pass through his lips to see how it’d feel saying it.

“So Y/N,” Melo smiled as he pushed his laptop screen a bit too, showing more of him, “if I offered to fly you out, would you say no?”

“Oh baby,” she smirked, “I’d be there in a heartbeat.  I want all that dick in real life.”

“Aight, bet,” Melo picked up his phone from beside him, “you give me a date and I’ll work out all the rest.”

[aestheticpebbles]

Saturday October 19th,2024 New York Comic Con

So I took a solo trip to NYCC and attended, let alone dressed up for such an event, for the first time. (I literally assembled my cosplay within a week bc I got my hair dyed the previous Friday, and my best friend pushed me off the ledge out of my comfort zone and encouraged me to dress up!).

Somehow, one of the absolute WORST weeks of my life due to major personal life issues between my car engine exploding in the middle of the woods in north carolina, being forced to stay in georgia until literally 5:30pm THE NIGHT BEFORE (FLEW up I-85N to the closest airport when I could finally leave. delta literally saved my life when I managed to catch a flight leaving at 7pm to go back home where ALL of my cosplay outfit pieces)straight up $🔥🔥🔥 hurt so bad but I was NOT missing this event for anything)) landed at 11:30pm and ended up just pulling an all-nighter to get ready and drive 3 hours back to nyc. my layover was in laguardia and it hurt so bad to know I had to turn around and drive right back past it LOL. however, the week I was PRAYING for to end, still ended off to be an incredible first-time experience thanks to these two, and everyone else I met who attended!

Someone sedate me. How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing the very first words he said were “wow, look at you”, and then “I’ll sign whatever you want” at the table? talk about giving me a free lobotomy on the spot bc I couldn’t formulate a single sentence. Matt was so nice too!! I wish I was able to interact w him more but im so thankful that I was able to get a duo picture.

tom autographed a copy of our solo pic together, and I didn’t even make it out of nyc on saturday night before running to the first target I saw to grab 4 8x10 photo frames.

I circled back around the line after realizing he was willing to sign my crown too and he had his white pen out and ready!! 😭😭 I was so excited and awkwardly laughing bc I was flustered as hell that I walked right by the swau booth. completely forgot that I added the up charge to have them authenticate it, but I guess it doesn’t matter all that much because this crown will only be pried from my cold, dead hands.

Jokingly told my mom to bury the crown with me and a few other trinkets like a pharaoh’s tomb if you will. I got an odd side glance from her. Reminded me of Penguins of Madagascar’s “smile and wave boys… smile and wave….😬😀”

I didn’t even realize Tom wasn’t feeling well and had to leave early because of how bright his smile was, and how responsive he was both when taking pictures and signing autographs.

Dream come true! 💚💚 blushing, giggling, swinging and kicking my feet.

gotta lock it in, im literally yapping right now… not done yet though :)

spay me for saying this— i cant tell what i enjoyed more about meeting him: seeing his toothy smile, or smelling his cologne, or learning what the IRL height difference is? 🤤🫠

okay yall imma shut up now but OMG!!! im obsessed with how good these pictures came out! im so excited to receive more. I hope everyone who attended had an amazing time!!

[vertical-tacos]

"be strong. always be strong."

hey guys I return from the basement with another killer page

bro I fr just ran out of room on the paper to finish drawing his legs assume they are like normal

info below cut as per usual

GUEST 1337 - KILLER CONCEPT

INFO

BACKSTORY: After being promised a safe exit for him and those he cared about, Guest 1337 will do ANYTHING to get the survivors out of the picture as fast as possible. it's only with them gone would the other end of the deal be fulfilled... right?

ABILITIES

PASSIVE: “SEASONED VETERAN”. If a survivor stays in a certain area of the map, or tracks a similar path for too long, it will be highlighted to Guest 1337 for 10s. Can be re-highlighted if the survivor comes back to the area, and every time it is, the duration of the highlight grows by 5s.

LMB: Simple punch. 1337 doesn’t care about style, he cares about getting the job done. 40 damage, 10s cooldown.

ABILITY ONE: “ONRUSH”. Guest 1337 winds up, before barreling forward in a rolling motion (speed of this attack is 2x that of his sprint speed). If he makes contact with a survivor, he deals 60 damage, and applies Slowness II for 10s. If not, he is stunned for 10s. (hmm, i wonder why you'd be slowed down after being barreled into by a human tank. maybe because YOUR BONES ARE PROBABLY BROKEN) Rectangle hitbox, large endlag, 30s cooldown. massive damage, massive punish.

ABILITY TWO: “RESOURCEFULNESS”. Guest picks up the nearest object and tosses it forward. Vertical Arc hitbox, slow movement, HEAVY damage (50). 75s cooldown, can only be used if near an object that can be picked up (anything not lodged in the ground)

Possible application: Picking up a nearby generator. If the generator has no progress. Guest 1337 will pick it up no problem and toss it as usual. Afterwards, the generator becomes unusable but the amount of generators needed to count as full completion goes down by 1 (because now you only need to complete the ones still working, not the now broken one). If the generator has any progress on it, it will stun him instead of being picked up. The further the progress, the longer the stun- (¼ of the way through = 2s stun, ½ of the way through = 4s stun, etc)

STATS

DIFFICULTY:★★★★☆

DAMAGE: 40. (He hits HARD.)

HEALTH: 1500

REGULAR SPEED: 2

SPRINT SPEED: 12

STAMINA: 200

STAMINA-LOSS: 22

STAMINA-GAIN: 32

VOICE LINES

Idle

Passive

slow breathing

low growls

When "ONRUSH" is used

"They're back."

"You're too predictable.."

When "RESOURCEFULNESS" is used

"COMING THROUGH!"

"GET OUTTA THE WAY!"

When HITTING "ONRUSH"

"I told you to MOVE."

"that's your OWN fault."

When FAILING "ONRUSH"

"OW!"

snarl sfx

KILL LINES

"Take THIS!"

"I'M SICK OF YOUR GAMES!"

Stunned:

Growling sfx

"Have fun getting AWAY WITH THAT."

When killing Jason

When killing John Doe

"Should've kept away."

"You couldn't even tell the difference."

When killing 1x1x1x1

"Another loss for the signature duo."

"You should've stepped away when you had the chance."

When killing C00lk1dd

"Unimpressive."

"I expected more from someone so revered."

When killing Guest 666

".. You're not her."

"Hm. you remind me of someone."

When killing Azure

"YOU."

"FINALLY GOT RID OF YOU."

"Not my fault your cult didn't come through on your RESPAWN."

"And STAY DOWN this time."

Bonus:

his kill animation would be like him kicking you down and stomping right on your ribcage. quick but... not necessarily painless.

He is the tallest (and bulkiest) killer, right above Two-Time and 007n7 in height

He's too grumpy for the other killers, doesn't hang out with them.

"Work" oriented to the MAX.

has used Noob as a "dumbell" at least once (just fuckin picked the guy up and started bench pressing him with one hand. Noob couldn't complain bc uh he'd get his ass beat if he tried fighting with 1337)

the flag on his uniform has been torn out and replaced with a photo of a certain someone. (Ch█r█ott█)

something feels off about that visor he's wearing. where did he even get that?

there are some minor details hidden in / around the face & head, point em out for bonus points :3

[babyleostuff]

If you asks are still open can I please request a reaction to something big breaking around the house and you fix it like it's nothing?

i think i kind of changed your request a bit, sorry about that

seventeen when you fix stuff around your house | ot13

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 

𓆩♡𓆪 Will get sulky and pouty if you don't ask for his help. It's not that he doesn't want you to be independent or anything, but he loves doing stuff for you *heart eyes*. But if it's remotely dangerous or includes any sharper objects, you're out of the room in a second. He knows you could have probably fixed that, he's just scared you'll get hurt.

YOON JEONGHAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 Oh my god, did my baby just fix that??? They're amazing, now I have to shower them in kisses and affection. Is so proud of you. Even if you just fix the smallest thing, he doesn't care. In his eyes everything you do is praiseworthy and he has to let you know. 

HONG JOSHUA 

𓆩♡𓆪 He doesn't stop you from fixing stuff, but always asks whether you need his help. Always hangs around you if it includes any heights, in case you trip or fall. He has one hand on the chair and the other on your back. Afterwards tells you how good of a job you do and that neither he or the house would survive without you. 

WEN JUNHUI 

𓆩♡𓆪 Looks at you with the most awestruck expression. What do you mean you did it all by yourself and didn't need his help??? Always scolds you that you should have waited for him to do it, but it's only because he doesn't want you to hurt yourself. 

KWON SOONYOUNG 

𓆩♡𓆪 Will tell everyone around that yes, my partner just fixed that and that they're perfect and beautiful and the smartest and everyone are like OKAY WE GET IT!!! As much as he wants to help, he is just so amazed with what you can do and the fact that you do it all by yourself *chefs kiss*.

JEON WONWOO

𓆩♡𓆪 Because you usually fix stuff by yourself, it's not often that you ask for his help, which makes him (would never admit it) a little bit sad. He always gets this warm and fuzzy feeling whenever you ask for his help :(((( He'll try to help you anyways, even if you push him away. He mutters something about it being too dangerous (even if it's just a photo that needs to be hung).

LEE JIHOON

𓆩♡𓆪 "That's my girl", he thinks every time he sees anything that you had fixed. As much as he doesn't mind changing light bulbs or putting together the furniture, every time he sees you doing it all by yourself makes him so so proud and happy that you can take good care of yourself. 

XU MINGHAO 

𓆩♡𓆪 Could not be prouder of you. Buys you your favourite snacks and tells you how amazing you are. It's basically an excuse for him to gush about how incredible you are. But he also reminds you that you can always ask for his help, because there is nothing wrong with that and it doesn't make you any weaker. 

KIM MINGYU  

𓆩♡𓆪 Sad, sulky, angry (not really), disappointed (just because he really wanted to fix that for you). Just let him fix stuff for you or at least ask for his help. No matter how good you are at fixing stuff at your apartment, just please, let Mingyu do it. He gives you lectures about what could happen if you are not careful enough. Every. single. time. So please, for Mingyu's peace of mind, ask for his help next time. 

LEE SEOKMIN 

𓆩♡𓆪 Could go two ways: "oh my god, you're the best, amazing,  I love you, what would I do without you honey" or "no no no, are you hurt? you should have waited for me, I told you to wait for me." No matter how proud he is of you and how much he trusts you with fixing dangerous stuff, there is always this thought at the back of his head that you could possibly get hurt. 

BOO SEUNGKWAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 Heart attack. "Why did you do it by yourself?" Side eye. "You could have gotten hurt." Sad puppy eyes. "Ask me for help next time." An angry stare. He goes through at least ten different emotions in a span of twenty seconds. He just doesn't know whether he's supposed to be proud, worried because you could have gotten hurt or angry that you didn't ask for his help. 

CHWE VERNON

𓆩♡𓆪 So cool. He thinks you're so cool. You're absolutely the best, because like come on??? You just did that. All by yourself. He's not even sure what goes with what and you fix such complicated stuff like it's nothing. He swears the house would be all in despair if it wasn't for you.

LEE CHAN 

𓆩♡𓆪 No no no. Please let him fix things. He has been treated like a baby his whole life and now he wants to do something for you. No matter how much you try explaining that he doesn't need to prove that he is strong and capable of fixing stuff (because you know that he is more that capable), he just wants you to be proud of him and find a source of safety and comfort in him :(((

[gogandmagog]

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Anne of the Island, Chapter Three!

Here comes Redmond! It would be on a Monday, too.

Two things I really, really love: that Di and Anne wanted to drive to the station together, and Anne’s sense of foreboding/little “presentiment” that she was actually leaving Green Gables forever. Of course, we readers know this to be true, but we thankfully have the advantage of knowing yet another truth... that yes, Anne can be happy somewhere else. I also wonder how much of Anne’s foresight is linked, in terms of the bends-in-the-road, to the appeal and/or dread of the ferry itself (as last time she was a passenger, it brought her from the asylum to Green Gables), because it seems to be the very vehicle of Anne’s shifting futures.

“Dora […] was one of those fortunate creatures who are seldom disturbed by anything.” Funny. I can’t tell if this is supposed to be her natural-born disposition or if it’s a defense mechanism learned by way of necessity, on account of having Davy for a brother.

Something else (of virtual inconsequence) that I like to note about the boat interlude, is that Anne’s internal monologue demonstrates clear annoyance towards Charlie, supposing that he’d be only pretending to be sentimental about watching PEI disappear from their sight... when only one or two lines later, it’s Gilbert that’s actually openly unsentimentally commenting, “Well, we’re off!” But Anne is somehow rather fine with that, lmao. I suppose it’s just the pretense that bugs her. Or maybe it’s the pretense of Charlie being able to relate to her feelings that bugs her? Meanwhile, there’s zero pretense in Anne’s ability to comfortably share her truest feelings with Gilbert. Cute!

That Gilbert’s not-so-very-sentimental over leaving Avonlea is not particularly strange, either. He is 21, and he has been largely out of his parents home, experiencing self-reliance, for over a year now, while boarding and teaching at White Sands. The age gap between Anne and Gilbert is nearly always negligible, but here in this one book I do think it’s occasionally a little glaring. Anne’s just a wee and nervous fledgling, dipping a pinky toe into the pool of independence, where as Gilbert’s wings are strong, and already maturely developed. 

Anne of the Island, Chapter Four!

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Every time I read this chapter, I’m reminded of the main difference between Anne of Windy Poplars and Anne of Windy Willows… which is that the Canadian publisher, for Windy Poplars, was mighty concerned about Maud’s fixation on graves and cemeteries and gruesome deaths throughout the text, and asked for quite a lot of it to be cut out. The English (Windy Willows, that is), however, really said doooon’t care. 🤓

Much respect and credit due to the Montgomery scholars, who have over the years hunted up and presented the following photos of Old St. Paul’s Burying Ground in Halifax, as close as possible to how it would’ve looked, for Anne and Pris and Phil.

Pris feeling like an ‘elephant’ at registration because of her considerable height, besides just making me sad for her, is always a source of curiosity for me. Anne is tall too... but she is proud of this, and when people speak of Anne being tall, it’s always in a tone of admiration. So, I wager we can guess that Pris must dwarf Anne’s tall? In the 1880s, historical data generalises that the average Canadian woman was 160 cm or 5’3[ish]. Anne, being ‘tall’, was probably 165 cm or 5’5, soooo Pris, markedly feeling enormous, maybe 172 cm? 5’8? This would be boyishly tall, since the average man of this time-period was the same 172 cm or 5'8.

Phil! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Btw who’s gonna take one for the team and dream up an “Anne of Mount Holly” fic, an (obvious) AU where Anne’s mum Bertha and Phil’s mum were pals (since they’re from the same city, after all), and it ends up it’s actually the Gordon’s that take Anne in, when her parents pass. An Anne from luxury, instead of an asylum.

“Thanks,” laughed Anne, “but Priscilla and I are so firmly convinced of our own good looks that we don’t need any assurance about them, so you needn’t trouble.” How far Anne has come. I think of that Louisa May Alcott quote, “love is a great beautifier.” Maud also leans heavily into love as transformative/beautifier for so many of her girls, and imo this is a pretty great message and overall universal truth, security and kindness giving way to confidence.

Okay, but between the two, as described, am I on crack or is the obvious choice not Alec? Or maybe I’m prejudiced against the name Alonzo, as well.

Anne going cold on Phil the second she mentions finding Gilbert ‘really handsome’ is soooy charmingly Anneish. Bonus points to Pris here, because evidentially she knew to begin preparing to leave in that moment too. Girlish solidarity.

The connection between Phil and Ruby is yet another point of interest to me. They share nearly the very same lines, sometimes, here specifically when we march steadily backwards to Anne of Green Gables when of Ruby the narrative asserts for her, "Frank Stockley had lots more dash and go, but then he wasn’t half as good-looking as Gilbert and she really couldn’t decide which she liked best!" Compared of course to Phil’s, “I like them both so much that I really don’t know which I like the better.”

Anne of the Island, Chapter Five!

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Gilbert Blythe is good at everything he puts the tiniest amount of effort into. 😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌 He’s class president, he’s football captain, and he’s singled out among the other members of the freshman class, to join a frat. Niiiiice. I know I’ve totally yapped about it before, but I think it’s wildly intriguing that Maud put Gilbert into Lamba Theta, when irl there were only three frats existing across all of Canada. Even when she attended Dalhousie, almost two decades after Anne and Gilbert attend Redmond. Small potatoes Dalhousie wouldn’t have a proper frat until 1923. So, I’m dying to know where from she gathered her frat info, especially as she’s obviously familiar with hazing/initiation processes. Elsewhere, the good news is: a Victorian-era frat was a legitimate intellectual and debate society, not a collection of dudebros in Sperrys, having beer pong championships at 9 am on a Tuesday.

“Gilbert Blythe won’t take any notice of me, except to look at me as if I were a nice little kitten he’d like to pat. Too well I know the reason. I owe you a grudge, Queen Anne.” Gilbert Blythe also has tunnel vision. You can line up every single one of the above ^ accolades, but none of them hold as strong or are even half so appealing as this; Gilbert’s capacity for fidelity. Phil’s the best-looking girl in her class, and besides which is also enormously clever and funny and affluent, and yet her attempts (“won’t take any notice of me” implies that Phil did try, and did seek said attention) fall flat. His heart has been spoken for since he was 13, you see.

Officially entering ‘Queen Anne’ 👑 into the registry of Anneisms.

"Even the grumpy old professor of Mathematics, who detested coeds, and had bitterly opposed their admission to Redmond, couldn’t floor her [Phil]." This was reputedly a real fellow iirc. In a magazine article from I think, 1912, A. Wylie Mahon published a review of Anne of the Island, in which he stated emphatically that “Redmond College is Dalhousie University” (true) and that the 'grumpy old professor of Mathematics, who detested coeds,' “was known to the students of his day as ‘Charlie'...” (possibly true).

“I don’t believe any but fools enter the ministry nowadays,” she wrote bitterly. PFFFT 😭😭😭 I laugh every time I read this letter. I wish I could correspond with Mrs Rachel.

I do wish I could forget about the ugly ‘big black man’ story that Davy shares, but is anyone familiar with “the old Harry” he refers to? 🧐 I’ve never been able to tell if this is a Mi’kmaq Gugwe reference or if it’s just supposed to mean literally like… some guy… named Harry. Orr?

[messylustt]

an assortment of my men in self ships. updated version. some characters i have works for, some i don’t, and just simply love.

MIGUEL. miguel o’hara & holly

the lost soul down. tristes ojos. black out days.

spiderverse boss with civilian gf, enemies to lovers trope, slowburn, frowning bf with smiling gf, forehead kisses, spanish phrases whispered, she fell first but he fell harder, height difference, protective bf, “can’t take my eyes off you”, back hugs from gf, hickeys / marks, dinner dates, bad at communicating, staring into your soul with those eyes bf with not a single thought behind those eyes gf, grumpy bf with sunshine gf, back scratches, doesn’t know how to initially react when she cries, playing with his hair.

HOBIE. hobie brown & holly

government hooker. politicians in my eyes. start a riot.

resident secret spider-man (spider-punk) with classmate, friends to lovers trope, sharing earphones, teasing head pats, boob grabs, piggybacks, licking and biting, always seen together, bold bf with shy gf, taking pics and selfies together, always stealing the seat next to each other, forcing him to try certain foods she likes, relaxed bf with anxious gf, physical touch bf with physical touch gf, the ‘tall’ model couple, movie nights that always turn into more, both get lost easy, drinking together, sloppy cheek kisses, surprise hugs.

LEON. leon kennedy & holly

how you remind me. heart-shaped box. all my life.

special agent with presidents daughter, bodyguard romance trope, heroic bf with scaredy-cat gf, her learning how to shoot his gun, protective bf, blonde bf with brunette gf, hiding together, stoic bf with amused gf, falling asleep in his lap, love letters, forbidden romance, she fell first he fell harder, jealous bf, pining, dart dates, words of affirmation, hand holding, paper rings, kisses on the doorstep, respectful bf.

CARLOS. carlos oliveira & holly

give it to me. about a girl. heartbreaker.

umbrella mercenary with city civilian, friends to lovers trope, wearing his clothes, sporty bf with couch potato gf, air kisses, bicep hugs, teasing hand pecks, inside jokes, playful sparring, overly sensual cheek kisses, secret photos taken, linked pinkies, big bf with small gf, “uh huh, go for it” amused bf with determined annoyed gf, sweet tooth.

MICHAEL. michael afton & holly

alien blues. better than me. romantic homicide.

son of william afton with fazbear employee, slow burn trope, playing with his hands, jerk bf with nice gf, dead-eyed bf with doe-eyed gf, silent words but loud actions, unfazed bf with scaredy-cat gf, sideways glances, “no i don’t like you” lying michael, he fell first and harder, staring into your soul with those eyes bf with a comforting look behind those eyes gf, falling asleep on each other by accident, bully-flirting.

NICCOLO. niccolo govender & holly

absinthe. swim. stop the world i wanna get off with you.

classmate with classmate, tutor trope, misunderstandings, jealous bf, playing with her hair, friends with benefits to lovers, stolen kisses, pining, lazy bf with active gf, very protective bf, longing gazes, ass slapping, polaroids, museum dates, gradual desperate bf, bad at communicating, kisses in the car, “yeah she’s my girlfriend” soon to be bf with surprised soon to be gf, sitting next to each other in class, late night skincare.

RAFE. rafe cameron & holly

closer. lost in the fire. daddy issues.

mean boy with sweet girl, opposites attract trope, bad at feelings, overprotective bf, experienced bf with naive gf, blushing, boat dates, jealous bf, long makeout sessions, acts of service bf with physical touch gf, her forcing him to enjoy the sunset view, mending his bruises and cuts, teasing gf with hard gazed bf, him wanting her to wear his clothes, hand on her thigh while sitting, expensive dates, hickeys, comforting hugs from her, let me spoil you bf with loves being spoiled gf.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[curiositydooropened]

Hell Hound • Teaser

Being FWBs with metal rockstar, Eddie Munson, is all fun and games until a dozen red roses show up at your door with a warning: Stay Away from The Devil or you will die. Despite your protests, Eddie appoints his personal bodyguard to keep an eye out for you.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 824

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *See individual chapters for warnings.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist • Fic Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Chapter One [Coming Soon]

The interior of the L never looked that beautiful, at least not through Steve’s eyes. Every experience he’d had was tainted by Bears fans or teenagers filming videos on their phone, or God, don’t remind him about St. Patty’s Day. No, the seats were too small for his shoulders, the windows too short, and the whole thing smelled like plastic bags.

Your perspective was vastly different. You were just the right height to catch the sunlight as it filled the train car with that golden glow. The city whirred by, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and reflections off the glass. You positioned poles and handholds just so with satisfying symmetry.

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens. 

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft. 

He’d seen that look dozens of times tonight, timid gratitude that poured out of you and onto every surface in this little gallery space. You’d caught his gaze a handful of times, reassured him with a smile that you were okay, great even, oozing with sheepish pride. He’d just nod and go back to admiring another of your photos.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm. 

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.” 

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man winked at you, and your eyes lit with mischievous delight. You nodded along, conspiratorially while the woman rambled on about the neighbors’ cat meowing and another neighbor practicing saxophone into the wee hours. 

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room. 

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo. 

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?” 

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?” 

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“How’s it going?” He elbowed you, glancing once more around the room at the patrons to your first gallery showing. He’d agreed to come run point for your opening, soft-pitching the idea for Munson to hit out of the park.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach. 

“Told you.” He grinned, and you swatted his arm and told him to shut up. He really could watch you for hours, the micro-expressions on your face prettier than any photo you could take, though your talent came up a close second. 

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

Steve blinked once, twice. The rapid flash of headlights cast your cheekbones in shadow. He spun on his heel to find his employer and friend, Eddie Munson, slipping out of the backseat of a tinted-windowed SUV. He cursed under his breath and excused himself, shouldering through a confused crowd to meet the rockstar at the door. 

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves. 

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.” 

You’d followed Steve out into the rain, slipping through party guests to greet Eddie. The rockstar wrapped studded-leather arms around your slender waist and greeted you with something salacious whispered into your ear. Steve knew because of the shocked look stretched over beautiful features, and the way you’d swatted at Eddie’s shoulder as if he’d said something bad enough to curl your toes. 

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.” 

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.” 

---

[A/N: Yeah, I love him. I wrote this ages ago and I thought I hated it, turns out I love it and wrote like 5k yesterday and it's still going. So this is going to be another long one. I couldn't resist writing it though. Oh! And quick disclaimer: I've never been to Chicago. I'll try to be as non-specific about the city as possible, as to not get on anyone's nerves. It's really just about vibes, you know? Anyway thanks love you bye. xoxo]

[ozzgin]

What type of woman would pickle would be attracted to? Like a woman from the modern world

Lmao I can just see Baki giving Pickle photo's of women, like models etc. Etc. And he shows reader to pickle, and he quickly falls inlove

What type of woman would reader be?

Sorry if this is confusing

-🎧anon

So, I can definitely imagine this scenario and I think it’d be cute and funny, but the part where I offer concrete answers is where it gets tricky. I don’t want to detail much on physical appearance because then I’d risk excluding readers. Ultimately I think that any kind of appearance could be considered attractive to Pickle. Allow me to explain:

One possibility is that he’d be inclined to go for someone that resembles him in features. So a reader that’s dark skinned, dark haired and has non-Caucasian characteristics would pique his interest because it brings him the comfort of familiarity. He’d think you’re one of his people and cling to you as a reminder of home.

But the complete opposite is also a possibility. Maybe a pale, foreign looking reader would attract him out of sheer novelty. Back in his time he would’ve never seen a human with this kind of appearance and it makes him extremely curious. Same would go for anything in between, any mix of traits is basically unusual to him. (Although I just had this funny idea that he’d be initially wary and afraid of a reader with brightly dyed hair because they could be poisonous or something, just like animals in the wild that use color to warn predators)

As for other details such as body shape and height, it wouldn’t really make a difference to him. Whether reader is short, skinny or chubby, tall or strong, Pickle’s role of being the protector still stands.

I guess this logic works for any character, haha.