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munsonsmixtapes · 16 hours ago

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This could be just my hormones going insane but I just need a fix of Steve/eddie (or both) giving reader some loving cause all of her friends are having babies and she’s feeling a little bit frustrated it’s not happening with her. Either of the boys end up catching the vibes so they doo all they can to help our girl out and it sticks

What I would GIVE!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) grinding, breeding kink, creampie, mention of pregnancy, hurt/comfort, cockwarming

Having a baby isn’t something you’ve ever really thought about. Your life has always been so you haven’t really had the time, but as you’ve gotten older, you’ve begun to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t mind having a little one running around. You see the tiny little clothes when you’ve gone shopping and your heart bursts. At restaurants, you’ll see the cute little families and wonder what if that could be you?

Your baby fever get even worse when one of your close friends who just had her first child invites you over to meet him. The second she puts him in your arms and his tiny hand wraps around your finger, that's it. You just know you want one of your own. A little baby that you would raise until they eventually would venture out in the world on their own.

But that's all a pipe dream in your eyes. That would never happen for you because you’re single and sperm donors and adoptions can be tricky. So you're just stuck thinking about it for the rest of your life, just hoping, wishing that it'll miraculously happen.

You spend the whole drive home sobbing. You can barely even see through your tears, but you somehow make it home to your apartment that you share with your best friend, Steve. And for once, you hope he isn’t home, because there's no way you can tell him why you're crying. It'd be way too embarrassing.

So you wordlessly hurry to your room where you bury yourself under your covers as the sobs pour out of you. You feel so pathetic for crying about something like this, but you can't help it. It just hurts way more than it should.

There's a knock at the door and you're so glad that you locked it. You really can't talk to Steve right now. He just wouldn't understand. You know that he would be understanding and sympathetic like always, but this time, it would be even better if he was actually experiencing what you are.

"Hey, y/n," he says from the other side of the door and you can just imagine him with furrowed eyebrows, the look he always gets when he's upset. You know you've hurt his feeling by shutting him out, but this is for his own good. He doesn't want to have this awkward conversation with you. You're sure of it.

"I know you're upset about something so I uh, I made you that hot chocolate you like." He's so sweet that it makes your heart ache sometimes. What did you do to deserve a best friend like him?

You throw the covers off of you and make your way to the door. You unlock and open it to reveal Steve's sympathetic smile. He holds the mug out to you and you take it, taking a sip before heading back to your bed, Steve sitting next to you, but making sure to keep some space between the two of you.

Just like always, the silence isn't awkward between the two of you as you sip on your beverage and he just sits there. You set the mug on your desk then sit next to him again, this time to where your thighs are touching and you lean your head on his shoulder.

His arm wraps around your arm, his hand moving lazily up and down it as a way to comfort you. You can't help but let you mind wonder what it would be life if Steve was the father of your child. You're he'd be the perfect candidate, but you're sure that he'd think it was weird. His best friend wants to have a baby with him? That's definitely out of his comfort zone and you know it.

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you?" No fucking way. you're taking that shit to the grave. You've got to make something up, and fast.

"Just womanly stuff, you know how it is," you sniff, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks again. You do your best to try and pretend that your stomach is cramping and Steve is quick to pull you into his lap.

His rests is hands on the lower part of your stomach where he knows they get really bad and he begins to massage the area to relieve some of the pain. He always take sure good care of you and that's how you know that he would be a great dad.

You think about him doing the exact same thing when your stomach starts showing, talking to the baby and you suddenly feeling wet between your legs. You're staring to see Steve in a different way and you're not entirely sure how to feel about it.

"How does that feel?" He asks, looking down at you and suddenly, every single thought is replaced by your need to know what his lips feel like. They look like two pretty, pink pillows and you just can't stop staring.

“I’m not really cramping,” you tell him, feeling guilty that you lied to him. “I uh, I was actually upset because-well, because everyone around me is getting married and having children and I just-that’s what I want. I just want a family, Stevie.”

You look so heartbroken and Steve can see your eyes welling up again. He suddenly gets an idea, but he knows it’s crazy. When you mentioned having a family, clearly he wasn’t supposed to be in the picture. But now that it’s come to his mind, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d be honored to have a baby with you. He just knows you’d be an amazing mother, especially when he’s seen you with the kids in his family at different Harrington functions. Now that he’s thought of it, he can’t unsee it. Now he’s got to see it through. That is, if you agree. And why would you? The idea really isn’t something that he should be suggesting to his best friend, but what the hell?

“What if we had a baby?” He asks, his honey eyes boring into yours and you swear you just might melt. He’s so sweet sometimes that you don’t feel like you deserve him. He takes your silence as his answer and quickly tries to backtrack. “Just forget I said anything.”

“No, Steve,” you grab hold of his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’d love to have a baby with you. Honored, actually.”

“You would?” His face lights up and you can’t help but laugh at how adorable he is.

“Yes,” you nod.

You move so that you’re straddling his lap while his hands rest on your waist. Shit, you’re really doing this and Steve can’t hide his excitement. This might be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

You make the first move, leaning down and bringing your face to his, slowly capturing his lips with yours. He's quick to respond, trying to match your pace as his lips move against yours. Yours are soft and he's convinced that this is the best kiss he's ever had. You know exactly what you're doing and he's just desperate for more.

Just as he melting into you, he feels you grinding against his crotch and he lets out a whine, already feeling himself getting hard. This has to be a record for sure. He lets you do what you want, loving everything you're doing so far.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he swears he's going to come just from hearing you. It's so hot and now that he's hearing it person and not on the other side of the wall when you pleasure yourself, he's sure it's even hotter because he's the cause of it.

“God, you’d look so pretty,” he sighs against your lips. “So fucking hot. And I’d praise you any chance I got.”

He’s saying all the right things and now you think you’re ready. You’ve-you’ve never done anything like this with Steve, but something about it feels so good, so right.

Your top comes off and it’s thrown to the side as Steve takes advantage of your now exposed skin. He kisses and nips at chest as you melt in his arms, mewling at every touch of his lips.

He slips the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and continues his kisses there, mixing in his lips with it as your hands grab hold of his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles against your skin and you flush, feeling hot from both his compliments and his soft lips. “Now let me see you.” He unhooks your bra and pulls it away from your body to reveal your bare chest.

Your nipples are hard and Steve’s mouth waters as he thinks about how badly he wants them in his mouth. They’re practically begging for it as your back arches, moving your body from side to side, his gaze following you.

Without warning, Steve grabs hold of your waist and turns your bodies so your back is flat against your bed, him on top of you. He goes straight for your nipple, taking it into his mouth, giving it a hard suck as he pins your arms to the bed.

You gasp as the feeling and Steve continues, introducing his tongue as he licks and sucks on your nipple, one of his hands moving to massage the other one so it gets some attention as well.

Your back arches against his as a pretty moan falls from your lips and he takes that as an invitation to continue. He bites down hard and you mewl, your fingers gripping the bedding underneath you.

“That’s a pretty sound, baby,” he compliments as he pulls away for a split second. “Wanna make it again?”

“Please,” you whine and he goes in again with another as you let out another moan. Once you’ve reached your peak, he moves onto the other nipple, doing the exact same routine until you’re orgasming again, grabbing onto his shirt, trying to pull it off of him so you can proceed.

Steve’s shirt is off in an instant and he kisses his way down your torso slowly, giving your stomach special attention. He peppers it with kisses as he showers you with the sweetest words, wanting to make you feel special, to know that he really wants this and isn’t just doing it because he should.

“You’re gonna be such a great mother,” he starts off, pressing a kiss to the spot right above your belly button. “I’d be honored to raise a child with you.” Another kiss to the spot. “Fuck, I’m gonna love filling you,” is what he finishes off with before pressing a kiss to the spot right above your jeans. He then unbuttons them and you just now you’re a mess now, feeling your slick rolling down your legs.

Your jeans are off in an instant followed by your panties and Steve undressed himself before spreading your legs wide, lining himself up with you before slowly inserting himself. It’s a tight fit, but by the time he’s done with you, you’re going to be so loose.

His pace is slow as he takes his time, watching you so intently to make sure that you’re okay. You’re more than enjoying yourself, it seems as you moan and whine, your nails scratching down his back. Steve didn’t realize just how much he loves not using a condom, feeling every single part of you against him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he says as his thrusts pick up, moving even faster, inch by inch trying to get all of himself inside you.

“Haven’t done this in a while.” It’s at least been a couple of months.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll loosen you up in no time.” He’s pumping even harder and faster now, trying to get to a pace that the two of you will enjoy and continues at that pace as you respond positively.

“And look at that. You’re taking me so well.” He’s moving so fast now that the bed is squeaking underneath you, moving back and forth with every pump and you’re eating it up, needing feel all of him.

“More,” you whine and Steve just chuckles.

“Can’t go any faster than this.”

“No, Steve, more.” You grab hold of his hips and push him further inside you, bucking your hips against his so he gets the hint.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he winks. “Sure I’m not gonna hurt you?”

“I want you to. I just need to feel you. Want you to fill me.” You buck your hips again and again as the two of you work together, trying your best to get the other off.

He’s all the way inside you now and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you can feel every single inch of him, so sure that he’s going to split you apart. Not that you mind. That would actually be the best way to go of you’re being honest.

“Taking me so well. Look at you, so close to coming. I can see it. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Gonna look even more beautiful with my baby. Gonna-“ his words are cut off as he reaches his own orgasm. He releases inside you and you watch him come undone, curling his head towards his chest as his eyes shut tight. His fingers are digging into your waist and you push his hair away from his sweaty face as he’s coming down.

He’s got just enough energy for little more. Just enough to get you there. He’s moving as hard and fast as he can, watching you come undone underneath him. You’re so pretty, the perfect mother for his child.

As soon as your orgasm is over, Steve lowers himself down onto, not even bothering to pull out because he just wants to be this close to you for a little longer. His lips find yours in a gentle kiss before he lays his head on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

You spend the rest of the night like that before cuddling up in your bed, the two of you discussing baby names, deciding that neither of you care whether it’s a boy or girl.

Nine months later, you welcome your baby girl into the world. Steve is right by your side the entire delivery and seeing you hold her for the first time, he’s sure that you’re going to be an amazing mother and he’s so excited to navigate parenting with you.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n

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salemlunaa · 3 hours ago

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﹏𓊝∘˚ STOP SCRAMBLING FOR THINGS YOU ALREADY HAVE 𓇼∘˚

why? well because it’s already done

if you can’t see that it’s never. gonna. happen. You either got it or you don’t, you don’t ever have to meet in the middle with the 3D. ever. Don’t need to study, you have them grades. Don’t need that expensive skincare, you have glass skin. Don’t need to workout you have your dream body. You don’t need to induce pure consciousness, you have your dream life.

And funny enough, this is the mindset that helped me induce for the first time. I only went in to the meditation with the mindset that I already had my dream life so i don’t need anything, including pure consciousness. “Why would i need to induce something i already have?”

Even though my circumstances differed, I stopped with the “I need to shift so bad”, “I would do anything to induce the void state”. I knew I had to stop being reliant on the void, I knew everything counted on it. So I told myself it was already done, there was nothing to do. At all. I wasn’t scrambling talking about “omg the day is almost over and I haven’t induced” why would I need to when I already did? I told myself that there was nothing to be afraid of, i can’t be afraid of failure when i already had my dream life. Would someone be scared of failing their classes when they are already holding a degree in their hand?

I told myself that I was only inducing the void to relax “nothing special” since i induce all the time. I don’t need to meet in the middle. And neither do you. You don’t have to fry your brain with different techniques, you either have your dream life or you don’t. There is no build up. There is no “void journey” where you go through trial and error. Because you don’t need to.

The desperation and the pedestal went away immediately after I accepted my dream life was here. And because of that there was no fear that I was gonna “fall asleep”, there was no fear that it “wouldn’t work”. I am pure consciousness. And because of that I was able to induce.

You need to realise that your dr isn’t a dream anymore it’s just your cr, you aren’t tied to one reality just because your awareness is placed here. There is another version of you reading this. You are infinite, you can shift in a millisecond and you have. Stop making this huge journey, it’s just yours it’s not that deep fr.

Tell yourself you are the “I AM” i don’t care what your outerman has to deal with. You aren’t your outerman, your innerman (you) already ha everything, that’s enough.

Tell yourself that inducing pure consciousness should be for relaxation or “just because” it really lets your subconscious know that you have nothing to be desperate over since you have everything. There nothing to procrastinate over because your dream life belongs to you. Would a couple with a baby be talking about how they are constantly procrastinating the act of trying for a baby? no, they already have one. You already have your dream life.

You don’t have to meet in the middle for anything, and that includes the state of pure consciousness. You already are pure consciousness.

Accept it’s yours, that’s the key to getting it.

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southerndragontamer · 21 hours ago

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Ok let me just- go off for a minute here about Dante and Patty’s relationship BECAUSE CAPCOM ARE COWARDS AND REFUSE TI GIVE EITHER OF THE ELDER SPARDA THE HAPPY CHEMICAL SO WE HAVE TO DO IT OURSELVES BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT GODDAMNIT-anyway beware Headcanons XD

He meets her and naturally comes off as uncaring and nonchalant to everything, but he blocks her sight of blood and gore and death as much as he can. Shoving her hat down in the car, blocking with the drop screen on the stage. And even in the situation where she sees something and is scared like in the train scene he doesn’t say anything bad for her fear or her crying, and at the end of the first episode she did see him fight but he obviously kept her safe from it. When she redecorates the office, his den/territory, he isn’t happy but he doesn’t shout at her, rather her actions, he’s firm but not mean.

When she grabs the watch for the gambling demon case in Ep 9, points his own gun at him, his expression is furious for .2 seconds as he rushes at her to grab it, but his anger is not at Patty. It’s at the cursed watch. His entire being in that moment was flooded with the urge to protect his young, to get Patty to safety, and the expression on his face as he holds her after is so soft and concerned and relieved. Which is why he put her out of the line of fire when he gave her to Morrison later on when she tried to take over the poker game for him.

And on Patty’s side!!!! She adores Dante even if she pushes at him, but she’s an orphan and he’s the only stable adult that’s not the nuns that she knows, that she basically lives with, of course she’s gonna push and poke at him and his boundaries to see what he’s going to do or not do. But as much as she teases and prods, she is willing to fight for him if he’s in trouble.

Ep 9 again, she’s watching Dante, her father figure, and Lady, an aunt, seemingly fight when Dante acts off. She doesn’t remember the watch being cursed, she wasn’t told after she came to, so when Morrison, an uncle, has her held back when Lady seemingly KILLS DANTE IN FRONT OF HER- she is about to bite Morrison to get to her father, screaming at Lady in shock and anger and betrayal and she only doesn’t do that because the demon shows itself and Dante gets up.

And of course the biggest one in Ep 12. Patty is a child, she is a little girl who’s just found her mother after so long apart and thinking she was dead- and she’s looking for Dante and then this giant demon grabs her, taunts her with making her watch as Redgrave is being invaded/destroyed, people are dying- tells her Dante is dead-and she has so much faith in him, her latent magic activates and a portal opens to hell. What does she do? She ignores her mother and Morrison. And jumps into hell.

Let me repeat that. Patty. Jumped. INTO HELL BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO HELP DANTE-

Reminder for those who haven’t seen the series, At this point Dante is unconscious and crucified with Rebellion stabbed through him for the tenth time-

And Patty gets through hell with her magic protecting her, hauls herself up a cliff, and then jumps onto the cross that the demons are dragging down.

And she tries to pull out Rebellion. She. Tries. To. Pull. Out. Rebellion. PATTY IS EIGHT YEARS OLD AND HUMAN AND SHE’S TRYING TO LIFT A DEMONIC BLADE

And shes talking to Dante the entire time, begging him to wake up, and then she’s clinging to him and apologizing she’s saying it’s her fault for all of this, promising to not eat his sundaes without asking or get mad at him about messing his office up and she’s crying because she’s scared and her father is hurt and she can’t do anything but she needs him to wake up and be ok-

And when she’s being attacked again after she’s forced out of hell, forced from Dante’s side, told she’s the reason all this happened by fucking Sid- she still doesn’t lose her trust and faith Dante’s going to come back that he’s not dead. She calls out for him when she’s in danger

And, like a guard dog following a whistle, like a knight forgoing every other duty to defend his charge, he comes to her side to defend her.

Dante is her father. Patty is his daughter. I’m not taking criticism or questioning at this time thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

The way Dante immediately grabs her hands to make sure she doesn’t fall ;-; that’s his daughter he cares about her so much.

#Devil May Cry #Dante Sparda #Devl Hunter #Patty Lowell #Devil May Cry Fandom #Gif #CUTE #My Headcanons

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short-honey-badger · 2 days ago

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Hello!

This is the first time ever that I ask for a writing to a headcanon and it’s exciting. :) I have been eating up your Shamrock/Shanks writings, love them!

There is this idea living in my head that the female reader

a) falls very ill

b) gets poisoned by rivals of the Figarland family

And is then discovered by Shamrock who comes looking for us, wondering why we don’t react to him calling our name.

In both scenarios mentioned, the reader is then lying in bed and very weak, suffering and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Meanwhile, Shamrock deals with guilt, fear and shock about this even happening right under his nose

Shanks of course would be there too, angry with his brother for not looking out enough for Reader

I know this is very angsty (think about that scene from Gone with the Wind where Scarlett fell down the stairs and was ill) and I am not sure if you said anywhere that this isn’t something you would like to write about.

Still, I would love to see what you make of this little snippet. :) Your Shamrock characterization is great 👍

Okay anon. This was probably one of my favorite ones I've done so far so thank you dearly for the wonderful prompt. I hope I have done it justice! ❤️❤️

Watch me Wither

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader x Figarland Shamrock

Warnings! Not many? Angsty sick fic

Shamrock Masterlist-> HERE

Shamrock stands vigil over your still form, lips set in a harsh frown. It's been three days, and still your condition has yet to improve. Guilt eats at him, knowing that if he had listened to his brother for once that this wouldn't have happened. That you, their most precious person, would not be lying here still as a corpse. How could he let this happen when he had sworn to you that you would be safe here with him?

When you don't come to his office to share lunch with the leader of the Holy Knights, Shamrock knows that there is something going on. He stands from his desk and leaves his office, booted feet slapping against the stone of his home as he navigates the halls to the room he had set you up in a month ago.

Shanks had argued against you staying in Marie Geoise with Shamrock, seemingly convinced that you would be happier, safer with him and his crew. Shamrock had scoffed and rolled his eyes at his younger twin, lips pursed and arms crossed.

“She will be perfectly fine here with me, safe where no bloody pirates can steal her away when you aren't paying attention.”

Shanks had rolled his eyes but backed down, face set in a scowl as he turned on his heel to go tell you goodbye.

Shamrock knocks on your door, knowing that you value your privacy, but when you didn't answer after several moments, the holy knight turned the handle and strode inside. He stalks forward, scowl on his face as he comes to a stop beside your bed. He can see the lump you make under the blankets and calls your name, but still, there is no response from you. He rolls his eyes and reaches out, pulling the quilt down and freezing when he sees the yellow pallor of your face, your hair weighed down by sweat.

His heart siezed in his chest, eyes going wide as he reached out, on ehand wrapping around your shoulder and shaking you gently, “Darling, my love, please, wake up.”

A wretched groan left your mouth, eyes cracking open just enough that he could see the way your pupils had shrunk, tiny pinpoints surrounded by the dull color of your iris and bloodshot white sclera.

He had jumped into action when you fell back into unconsciousness seconds later, eyes drooping and body going lax in his hold. Shamrock had scooped you up and ran like he had never before, heedless of puting up a front in front of the servants and other members of his household until he made it to the room that their personal healer stayed. He’d woken Jurgan, demanding that the old man examine you, and what he found had made dreaded guilt well up inside the holy knight.

Someone, either an enemy of the Figarland household or one of their enemies, had poisoned you.

Now Shamrock could do nothing but regret his choice in keeping you here. He had called Shanks on the second day that you were admitted into the medical ward, and had sat still and silent as his twin lay into him, furious at Shamrock for allowing this to happen right under his nose. He deserved the dressing down, and it only added to his guilt and fear that because of him, they would never see that shy little grin that was only meant for them, ever again.

Shanks had told him that he would be back as quickly as he could, wanting to be there for his twin and for you if you ever happened to wake for longer periods of time. Shamrock had just quietly agreed, not feeling the need to argue against his younger brother, not when you were in such a delicate position.

You would wake long enough each day that Shamrock for drip water into your mouth, his eyes intent as he watched you slowly consume the liquid before you would drop back off, still too weak to do much but slowly recover. Jurgan had purged your system with a concoction of drugs, but even then, the doctor had informed him that it may not be enough for you to pull through. Only time would tell.

Shamrock didn’t know what he would do if you didn’t make it. You had become an extension of his life, a need that he would happily let consume him if only to receive your soft hands and sweet attitude that you rewarded him and Shanks with. Raging guilt eats at him, knowing that he failed you, that the promise he had made you and Shanks has been broken by being too prideful, too sure in the knowledge that you would be safe in his home.

A low groan gains his attention, and Shamrock cuts his eyes down at you, loping forward to grasp your hand in his own when he sees your hand twitch in his direction. You grip his fingers weakly, and the holy knight kneels by your side, burgundy eyes soft as he reaches out with his other hand to gently card his fingers through your hair. You look pitiful, but it gives him hope that you are beginning to feel better when you crack your eyes open to meet his own.

“Sham?”

Your voice is scratchy with disuse, but Shamrock is just happy to hear your voice. He squeezes your fingers, the hand in your hair smoothing down to cup your cheek, “I’m here, darling.”

Shamrock doesn’t know what to do or how he could make you feel better other than just by being at your side. His father had huffed and sneered, telling his older son that he needed to get over this, and get back to his duties, but the redhead found that he was always pulled back to your side, unable to be away from you for too long.

“Red?” You rasp quietly and frown when Shamrock shakes his head.

“Shanks is on his way, my love,” he murmurs, and the knowledge that the other twin was on the way seems to settle you, face smoothing out into something peaceful. He watches you for a while longer until your hand goes slack and you seem to slip back to sleep. Shamrock sighs and carefully disentangles his hand from yours and stands. He knows that you are unlikely to wake again in the next couple of hours, so as much as it pains him to leave your side, Shamrock does. He must before his father comes to collect him.

The next several days passed the same way, Shamrock would come and stay by your side, the guilt inside him eating away at him as he stared at your pale form resting under warm blankets. He would hold your hand, a silent sentinel. He seethed and raged inside his mind, furious that he was no closer to finding out the culprit behind your poisoning. He watched you wither further every day, and it killed him on the inside little by little.

Shanks arrived on the seventh day, running through the halls of a home he held no fond memories of. He ignored the sneers that were directed at him, not caring that the household thought of him as lesser just because he refused to bow to their whims. He found his twin sitting beside you in the medical ward, the other redhead looking worse than Shanks has ever seen his older brother.

“How is she?” He asks as he shuts the door behind him. He comes and stands at his twin's side, eyes wide as he stares down at you. He wanted to touch, to feel you, to make sure that you were still holding on, but he was terrified of making your condition worse.

“Better,” Shamrock murmured, voice rough from disuse. He watched his younger brother, seeing the look of fear etched on the face that looked so much like his own, and felt that same remorse well up. He drops his eyes quickly, averting them back to where you lay, “Jurgan says that she will recover, but the poison did a number on her internal organs. She will never be as strong as she once was.”

Shanks grits his teeth, his anger at his brother coming back with a vengeance. He doesn't bother looking at the other man, but his voice is tense and full of displeasure, “I told you that she wouldn't be safe here. You should have known better than to keep the one weakness you have so close. Her staying here was doomed from the start, Sham.”

Shamrock grits his teeth, shoulders hunching. He knows that Shanks is right, having already berated himself mentally more than his brother ever could.

“So you've already said last time we spoke,” He murmurs, and thankfully, Shanks doesn't say anything else about his failings. The two sit in silence, both content to watch your chest move up and down in your sleep. It isn't until there is a catch in your breath that they snap to attention.

Your brow furrows, and soft sound leaves you. You shift on the bed, arm snaking out from under the blankets, and Shanks stands, beating his brother to grasp your hand in his own. Your eyes crack open a moment later, blurry but more focused now than you seem to have been in days. You turn your head, lips pulling up in a tiny smile when you see both of your boys sitting beside you. You squeeze the hand you hold, voice scratching and throat sore.

“Shanks, you're here.”

The redhead smiles sadly, squeezing your hand back tightly, “Yeah, baby. I'm right here. How are you feeling?”

You shift with a wince to lay on your side, sliding your other hand out and reaching for the older twin. Shamrock easily slides his hand into yours, eyes soft as he stares at you.

“Better now that you're both here,” you say quietly and give them both a meager smile. You can tell, even in your pained and muddled state, that there is more than the usual tension between the two brothers. You sigh softly and squeeze Shanks’ hand again to gain his attention.

“Don't be mad, Red. This is my own fault. I should have been more careful.”

Both men widen their eyes, confused and about to argue that they are the ones who are supposed to take care of you, but you plow on before they can get a word out, “You can't be by my side every waking hour, loves. I knew this place would be dangerous even when I agreed to stay here. I got too comfortable, and that cost me.”

“But-”

You cut the holy knight off, “But nothing, Sham. You have duties, and Shanks, you have a crew to take care of. I don't want the two of you beating yourselves up or each other up.”

They watch you swallow harshly, lips moving into a weary smile full of sadness both men dearly wished they could wipe away.

“I heard what you said, Shamrock, and if it's as bad as you say it is, then I'm going to need you. Both of you.”

Shanks nods immediately, crouching down so that he can be at eye level with you. He leans forward, lips kissing your brow before he pulls back to give you a smile, “We'll be here, baby.”

Shamrock clutches your hand, still feeling that raging guilt that threatens to suffocate him, but he shoves it down for now. You were right. They would need to be there. He leans in and kisses your knuckles where they wrap around his hand, voice a soft promise, “Always, my love. We have you.”

You give them both a small smile, exhaustion suddenly eating away at you, and you squeeze their hands again, grip going slack as moments later, “I know.”

You are asleep seconds later, but neither man has any plans of going anywhere, not when you would need them when you woke up next. You had a long road of recovery ahead, but you would get there with them at your side.

@mit-suri @mfreedomstuff @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin

#one piece #reader insert #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #one piece x reader #shanks #figarland shamrock x reader #figarland shamrock #shamrock x reader #shamrock #one piece manga spoilers

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sabrinasopposite · 3 days ago

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friends or lovers?

pt. 2 of drinks or coffee / college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

summary: stolen kisses, polaroids, photo booths, coffee and a questionable situationship. y/n waits till charlie ask her finally out, or are they just friends?

Autumn folds itself over New York like an old, beloved quilt—warm, golden, frayed at the edges. The air smells of cinnamon and rain-damp pavement, and somewhere between the red-brick college buildings and the quiet hum of late afternoon, y/n finds herself seeing Charlie Baker through a different lens.

They are not together. Not officially. But there are Polaroids of him in a box beneath her bed, tucked between receipts of late-night coffee runs and half-melted red lipsticks he once pressed a kiss against. There are moments—his laughter curling like smoke in the cold air, his hands brushing against hers when he hands her a camera, his eyes catching hers across a room—that make her wonder if she is something more than just a passing season to him.

She never asks. And he never says.

They start hanging out after class, in the spaces between their lives where time stretches slow and golden. She teaches him how to take professional pictures, and he watches her like she is the one worth capturing.

“Like this,” y/n murmurs, adjusting the lens. Her fingers, delicate but sure, guide his hands over the camera. Charlie is a quick learner, but he’s distracted today—his gaze flickering to the way her lashes kiss her cheekbones when she blinks, the way the afternoon light pools against the dip of her collarbone. He wants to tell her she is beautiful, but instead, he just says, “I think I like this.”

y/n only hums in response. Photography. Her. He isn’t sure anymore.

but later, when he isn’t looking, she takes a picture of him—grease-smudged and sun-drenched, working on his car, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A moment preserved. A secret, just for her.

He buys her a camera with his own money.

y/n doesn’t expect it. She unwraps the box with careful fingers, her breath catching when she sees the sleek, familiar frame—the model she had offhandedly mentioned wanting months ago.

“Charlie…”

His hands are stuffed into his pockets, but he shrugs, looking almost sheepish. “Your old one’s been acting up.”

She swallows around the lump in her throat, her heart pressing against her ribs like it wants to escape. This is more than a gift. It is him paying attention. It is him remembering. It is him saying something without saying it at all.

She doesn’t know how to thank him, so she just steps forward and wraps her arms around him, her cheek pressed against his chest. He stiffens for half a second before exhaling, his hands finding the small of her back. He holds her there, warm and solid, and she wonders how she is supposed to go back to being just his friend after this.

Their first kiss happened in a photobooth.

It is supposed to be a joke—crowding into the small space, laughing as they press against each other. The first photo is blurry, their smiles mid-motion. The second, exaggerated faces. The third—something quieter. Softer. A moment where y/n’s breath stutters because she is suddenly aware of how close they are, of the way Charlie’s gaze drops to her red lips, of the way time seems to hold its breath.

The fourth click of the camera catches the moment his mouth brushes hers.

A kiss, caught in black and white, immortalized before either of them fully register it.

Later, y/n keeps the photo strip in her box, between a napkin from the coffee shop where they sat too close and the memory of his hands laced with hers. But they do not talk about it. They never do.

Her friend asks one day, with an arched brow and a knowing smile, “Are you and Charlie dating?”

y/n hesitates. Laughs it off. “No, we’re just friends.” The words taste strange on her tongue. Because in her lenses, they looked like a couple. Like a couple of a movie or a book, simply the good looking guy from college likes the photographer girl. But it was more than that, Charlie was more than that.

He was like a shot of espresso, being bathed in sunlight when he was around y/n. She made him feel like the best version of himself, without even trying. But for y/n, Charlie was her eternal sunshine. He was perfect for her imperfectness.

But then she hears it—Beth’s name, mentioned in passing by one of Charlie’s friends. His ex. The one who texted him after he soft-launched y/n on Instagram, a blurry photo of her in golden light, captioned with nothing but a heart.

It’s nothing, they say. Probably just a casual message. But y/n feels it settle in her stomach like a stone. What if she’s just the in-between? The girl who is there because Charlie is lonely, because it’s easy, because autumn is fleeting, and so is she?

She doesn’t want to be the other woman. The placeholder.

So she pulls away.

Missed messages. Half-hearted smiles. Excuses.

Charlie notices.

It was a Friday afternoon, where the sun was disappearing from its sky and the stars were slowly shining around. Charlie found y/n in Central Park. She had left her phone in her dorm, wandering the city with her camera slung over her shoulder, trying to quiet the thoughts unraveling inside her. She took pictures of golden leaves reflected in puddles when the sun was still there, of strangers lost in laughter, of the sky stretching endlessly above her. She had planned to go to her favorite vintage cinema, lose herself in old film reels and dim lighting, but before she could, Charlie was there—winded, breathless, searching.

“There you are,” he exhales. y/n looks up at him, the weight in her chest pressing deeper.

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice softer now. “We were supposed to meet at our coffee shop.”

Her hands tighten around her camera. And then, before she can stop herself— “What are we?” she blurts. The more she looked at him, the more she felt. That was simple. Thats what she liked when she was around Charlie, he wasn’t an adjustment like in cameras. He was there that she could simply just tell everything, without pulling back or like adjust her camera for its perfectness.

Charlie’s expression shifts, his features caught between surprise and something more careful. “What do you want me to be?”

y/n thinks of the Polaroids, the coffee receipts, the soft-lipped kisses caught in frozen frames. She thinks of the way she feels when he looks at her like she’s something worth capturing. “I want us to be us,” she whispers. “More than just friends.”

Charlie’s face softens, and then— A slow, brilliant smile spreads across his lips, like the first crack of sunlight after a storm. “I was waiting for the right moment to ask you,” he admits. “But it seems you stole my moment or idea.”

Her laugh is a breath of relief, a quiet surrender. And when he kisses her this time, in front of the vintage theater, beneath the endless city sky, it is not something to be tucked away in a box.

It is something to be lived.

Something to be real, which was more worth than a camera pic.

y/n would have never guessed that being stuck in a lame and bad party, would give her the best thing like Charlie.

🍒 ps: I heard that y/n has polaroid pictures of shirtless charlie------ 💌: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @angelsgalore @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @tinainaction @seulgi-burgundy @floralscented @artyandink

#charlie baker x fem!reader #charlie baker x reader #cheaper by the dozen #charlie baker #charlie baker au #charlie baker fanfics #charlie baker fluff #drinks or coffee #tom welling #clark kent x reader #smallville x reader #clark kent fics #smallville #tom welling cheaper by the dozen #tom welling x reader

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sleepingdeath-light · 9 hours ago

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cuddling hcs ; select members of team eleven

requested by ; nobody / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; blue lock

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; hyoma chigiri, megaru bachira, reo mikage, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, yoichi isagi

outline ; “cuddling hcs for some of the blue lock eleven team”

note ; first time writing for these characters so they may be a touch ooc

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

hyoma chigiri

hyoma is very particular about how he approaches your relationship, and cuddling is no exception to that — it happens on his terms with very little room for compromise unless you’re in need of comfort for one reason or another (he may be something of a princess sometimes but he is still your partner so you get a bit more leniency in his eyes than other people do)

loves it when you curl up against his side so he can hug you without overheating — whether that means laying down while you latch onto his side and rest your head on his chest in bed, or you laying down next to him when he’s sat down watching something (bonus points if you lay your head on his lap when you do this because he thinks it’s kinda cute)

will only cuddle with you in bed when it’s not too warm or stuffy to do so… or on the couch when you’re watching your show when it’s off season… or briefly around the house when you need a quick hug before he goes off to do his own thing — just don’t expect him to cuddle with you in public, major pda is not his thing

when you’re cuddling in bed before going to sleep, when he’s in a more sentimental mood, he’ll hold one of your hands in his own and interlock his fingers with yours and just… hold onto you like that until you both drift off — just don’t bring it up to him during or after the fact because he’ll vehemently deny doing something so soft (egoist…)

doesn’t appreciate having his hair messed with or touched like ever, but will play with your hair when you’re cuddling (either actually styling it when you’re perched on his lap on the settee or just absentmindedly messing with it when you’re curled up next to him in bed)

meguru bachira

meguru is such a cuddle bug it’s ridiculous — like he could happily spend all day every day wrapped up in your arms, surrounded by the small of you, with you pressing kisses all over his face, and he’d still never be able to get enough of it

as far as favourite cuddling positions go, bachira loves spooning with you (especially if he gets to be little spoon)… but he’s also a big fan of laying on top of you… and he really likes you laying on top of him too… gosh he really can’t choose!

will cuddle with you anywhere at anytime around anyone whenever the urge strikes him — and that can mean anything from him tackling you into a hug immediately after a game in full view of the cameras, to him pulling you into his lap and caging you in with his arms when visiting a friends house, to him wrapping himself around you like a snake when you try to get out of bed in the morning, to just about anything else. he just really likes hugging you, that’s all!

his favourite times to cuddle you are either immediately after winning a match (yes he stinks, no he doesn’t care, just let him celebrate and he’ll shower in a minute) and in the early mornings of his days off where he can stay in bed with you for as long as he wants

loves it when you combine cuddling with other forms of physical affection (namely playing with his hair and kissing him anywhere you can reach) and he’s more than happy to return the favour — needless to say, cuddling with meguru is a guaranteed way to end up laughing and smiling so hard your cheeks and sides are aching

reo mikage

reo isn’t particularly picky about what position the two of you end up in when you’re cuddling — whether it’s your head on his chest or vice versa, whether he’s big spoon or little spoon, whether you’re curled up against his side or laying on his lap, etc. — but whatever position you’re in he’ll absolutely melt if you start playing with his hair and showering him in praise for being an amazing striker and an amazing boyfriend

unless he’s like, say, currently in the middle of training or an actual match, reo is pretty much always down to cuddle you — be that in a meeting room surrounded by investors in his father’s company, in full view of all the cameras and reporters after a match, out in public when you’re on a date, or in the privacy of your own home (or one of the villas he’s rented for the two of you to stay in). in short, location and company don’t matter to him as long as he gets the privilege of having you in his arms

he’s an excellent multitasker and more than capable of doing work when you’re cuddling (as long as you’re comfortable straddling his lap while he sits at his desk… he can’t really work well when he’s laying down) so don’t ever worry about interrupting him or getting in the way of his responsibilities when you want a hug — in fact, he’ll argue that having you there with him makes him work even better than he would otherwise

when he does unfortunately need to get up to do something else, he always makes sure to hold you extra tight for a few moments before kissing you (first between your eyebrows, then on the tip of you’re nose, and finally on your lips to get rid of your upset expression) and promising he’ll be back as soon as possible (and that nothing can keep him from his love for long)

rin itoshi

rin isn’t exactly the most physically affectionate partner — or the most affectionate person in general — but if you catch him in the right mood at the right time then you may just be able to convince him to lay down and cuddle with you for a little while

if you try and catch him off guard with a hug he will stiffen up like a statue and look at you like you’ve lost your mind as he asks you what you’re doing — especially if you do it in front of his team mates or his brother (not a fan of pda)

ninety-nine percent of the time when you’re cuddling it involves rin being the big spoon when you’re trying to get to sleep (which is one of the only times where he’ll get over himself enough to get comfy with you like this). the remaining one percent only occurs when he’s either extremely sick/injured or when he’s suffered an awful loss on the field (i.e. when he’s at his most down and vulnerable), and consists of him pretty much collapsing on top of you while you comfort/assure him and scratch your nails against his scalp in the way he likes

only ever cuddles with you in the sanctity of your shared home on the couch or in bed, and will only ever do it in the late evenings — he just likes his privacy, that’s all

doesn’t really talk much when you’re cuddling — mostly because he’s tired but occasionally because he’s feeling a bit sorry for himself and moping — but will listen to you talk and interject with a noncommittal hum every now and then to let you know he’s still awake

seishiro nagi

nagi is pretty hit and miss when it comes to cuddling — like yeah he’s big and strong and warm and it’s easy to get comfortable with him (especially in the colder months of the year), but unless he’s in the mood to cuddle it’s pretty much like cuddling a heated statue since he just lets you do what you want and barely even moves

lazy as he is, seishiro much prefers to cuddle you in positions that don’t require him to move around too much or stop him from doing whatever he was doing before. so that means you curling up on his lap or snuggling into his side when he’s sat on a chair, you laying on his chest when he’s already laid on his back, or spooning when he’s laying on his side gaming in bed

as long as he can sit or lay down he doesn’t really care where you are when you’re cuddling, but his favourite place to cuddle overall has to be his bed — especially when you’re both in your pyjamas since then he won’t have to get up and change when he feels like going to sleep

if he’s in a really good mood he may — may — kiss you on the top of the head and start explaining what he’s doing in game to you while you make yourself comfortable against him… but usually he’ll just stay quiet and let you do whatever

unless he was already in the middle of something when you started (like playing a game on his phone or watching something on tv) then there’s every chance that seishiro will just start cuddling you and fall asleep after a while — it’s warm, he likes the way you smell, and he’s comfortable, so who can blame him?

yoichi isagi

yoichi isagi is a very affectionate partner who can’t help but indulge your whims whenever the two of you finally get the chance to spend time together between his games and training, meaning that he’s going to be up for cuddling pretty much whenever you ask (unless he really needs to do something at the time, but he always makes it up for you later) — and between his strength, attentiveness, and warmth, he makes for an excellent cuddling partner

there’s something about you laying on top of him with your head on his chest that just makes yoichi’s heart flutter — but he also can’t deny how much he loves it when you tackle-hug and cling to him after a match or when he’s come back home after travelling abroad (bonus points if you’re smothering him with kisses and hanging onto him like he’ll disappear the second you let go)

while he is pretty neutral to pda and can, under the right circumstances (like those touched on in the last point), really enjoy cuddling with you in public, yoichi much prefers being able to hold you in the privacy and comfort of your shared home — especially if it’s on the settee when you’re watching your show, or in bed right before you go to sleep

isagi is a very active cuddler and rarely settles for just holding you close when you’re getting comfy together, always at the very least making a point of kissing wherever he can reach on your face and asking you about your day

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beneathsilverstars · 2 days ago

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I think maybe they’re acting odd enough in Dormont that when Isabeau leaves the favor tree and goes up to the cliff, he stays closer to the town side — looking at Mirabelle and the path to the favor tree — as he considers whether he should talk to anyone else about it, or ask Siffrin if they’re okay once they’re back from the favor tree, or something. And honestly he probably wouldn’t have ended up doing any of those things! But it means he is close enough to see when Siffrin is about to slip on the banana peel, whereas Siffrin didn’t even notice him there, because why would they look for any changes? Nothing ever changes unless they change it by force.

So Siffrin casually strolls towards the peel, and Isabeau shouts, "Woah, Sif, look out—!" and manages to catch him right as his legs go out from under him. Which, wow! That was scary! Good thing he was there, that could’ve been awful, what with the cliff right there and everything!

So now Siffrin can’t use the banana peel; Isabeau threw it away. And they can’t will themself to just jump off the cliff without it. So they resign themself to getting to the house the slow way, but, stars, they do not feel like sitting around Dormont right now. And it wasn’t even the first floor that they needed to go to anyway, so they’d be doing the whole entire night in Dormont, just to end the loop asap anyway! So. Eventually they give up and go for the dagger. But they’ve never used the dagger in Dormont before, and once they decide to use it they don’t waste a lot of time planning, so. They don’t do a good enough job making sure no one is nearby.

And it turns out Odile was right around the corner behind him, and she rounds it just in time to see him raise the knife. She casts slow on him and rushes forward and manages to yank his arm back before he can cut unsalvageably deep, then shouts for help. She sends the nearest villager to get Mirabelle, who hasn’t used any craft yet today, so she’s able to pour everything she has into healing him. Meanwhile Odile goes to get Isabeau and make sure Bonnie stays away until the situation isn’t so gory.

Eventually Mirabelle has Siffrin all healed and cleaned up and situated at the clocktower, and Bonnie is retrieved to start making dinner a little early. And now Odile and Isabeau and Mirabelle have allll evening to talk to Siffrin and try and figure out what’s wrong and how to help. Though Siffrin, of course, is being very unhelpful. They're desperately looking forward to their next chance to loop, and worried they won’t get one, and spiraling about upsetting everyone, but refusing to tell them about the time loops because it doesn’t matter, Siffrin doesn’t want to upset them more, they just! need! a way to loop!!

And of course he doesn’t say any of that out loud. But it’s not hard for the others to pick up that Siffrin wishes they hadn’t stopped him and is looking for a chance to escape, so of course they don't give him the chance. They ask if anything happened during/before his nap, and he insists no, nothing happened, he's fine. They suggest he doesn’t have to — and in fact, probably shouldn’t — go to the house tomorrow, but that really upsets him, because he wants to help them, he doesn’t want them to get hurt without him!! But they don’t want him to get hurt either.

But eventually they’re like, okay, even if we did give you your dagger back tomorrow so you can fight with us in the house, because we trust that you wouldn’t put us in danger, and we’ll keep a close eye on you — what next? We can’t just! Leave you! I mean we can't stop you from leaving but we want to help if you’ll let us!!!

And Mirabelle starts saying, "Maybe you could stay in the Dormont house with me, when it's back to normal? Until you're feeling better? I know everyone here, I could help you find a counselor if you'd be okay with that!" And Odile adds, "Or if you have somewhere to be I could accompany you; I didn’t have any particular plans on where to go next, so I might as well go the same direction as you." And of course Isabeau chimes in, "I really don’t need to get back to Jouvente any time soon — I quit my job, after all. I can stay with you as long as you need, as long as you want." And they ask Siffrin what their plans were, where they’re headed, and. Siffrin can’t come up with an answer that’s specific enough to be believable, not when they’re currently trying to plan specifics. Playing it off with a joke won't work, not this time. He tries to reassure them that they don’t need to change their plans for him, he’ll be fine, he knows they have their own things to do, and he’ll be fine on his own—

But Isabeau says, "You gotta understand why I don’t really believe that right now, Sif. You don’t have to let us stay with you if you don't want, but please don’t lie to us, you're obviously not fine. We want to help, if there’s anything we can do." And Mirabelle realizes she knows something relevant, so she says, "You told me... You told me a couple weeks ago that— this journey was the happiest you’ve ever been." And in the horrible quiet, Odile reaches the inevitable conclusion: "That journey will be over tomorrow, one way or another, and you don't have anything else to keep going for."

And Siffrin — they've been internally freaking out and spiraling this whole time, right? But it was never quite enough to automatically loop back, because— every mistake they made was immediately followed by clear assistance and compassion. Even when they first cut their throat, the moment that they realized they'd been caught was also the moment Odile touched them and then held them, reassured them with uncharacteristic desperation between shouts for help as she used her own coat to staunch the blood.

And now, no matter how horribly guilty and sick he feels that he's forcing his family to stay with him because they mistakenly think he's suicidal, this is them staying with him. It is a way forward.

So. The truth is out. They know that Siffrin was dreading the end of the quest because he had nowhere and nothing and no one to return to. They're wrong that he was about to kill himself over it, technically, except aren't they right about that too? No one knows it, but that was the reason for the loops, and he sure did kill himself far too easily in them.

The others talk about how they enjoyed the journey together, too, and... none of them wanted to part, either, they just hadn't brought it up yet. Odile says, "If I'd just said something sooner... I couldn't have known this would result, and yet... I should've known something was wrong. I'm so sorry I let you feel so alone and hopeless." Isabeau breaks the sorrowful quiet to say, determined, "We'll just have to make it up to you now. Bonnie will need to get back to their sister, right? What if we all accompany them to Bambouche?" And Mirabelle says, "Yes! That would be wonderful! And, you know, I was thinking of going on a pilgrimage soon — Siffrin, would you want to come with me, after we drop Bonnie off?" And of course Isabeau and Odile chime in that they'd love to go too. And, if they're all staying together, Bonnie might be really disappointed to stay behind in Bambouche, but maybe they could ask their sister if the two of them would like to travel for a bit as well...?

And Siffrin just starts sobbing. After a moment Mirabelle can't stand it, she has to at least offer, "Would you like a hug..? No pressure! But if you want one!" She holds her arms out a little in offer, and Siffrin can't stop themself from falling into them, and soon enough even Odile is patting Siffrin's back while Mirabelle and Isabeau hold them. After a bit, they hear Bonnie from outside the door, sullen: "I know you said they need space because they got hurt. But. You're all in there. And dinner is ready..?" And they tell Bonnie to come in, and Bonnie was mad at Siffrin for getting hurt again, but it turns into shock because, "What the crab, since when are we allowed to hug Frin??" And Isabeau says, "Since now, I guess?" And Bonnie hesitates for a moment, but relief that Siffrin is upright wins out, and even as they launch into a lecture they launch themself into the hug and nearly knock everyone over.

And then they're all laughing, and crying, and telling Bonnie about their travel plans. And then Bonnie brings in dinner, and Siffrin is ready to make himself eat it, but his poker face is gone right now and it's obvious he has no appetite for it — even aside from the fact that it's the same clocktower dinner that he's eaten dozens of times in a row, there's the whole recently-healed neck injury thing — and Bonnie's like, "Well, duh, if you're hurt or sick or whatever you need like, plain rice! And soup! And crackers! And lots of water!!" And they rush off to get a little of the extra rice and whip up a quick simple soup. And it's so nice to eat something new after months of the same stuff that Siffrin starts crying again, so of course they all have to hug him again. And eventually he falls asleep like that, surrounded by his family.

... And then they have to go through the house again the next day.

And, actually, at this point Siffrin is so scared of losing all of this. It's what he deserves, after guilting everyone into staying with him — after making Odile see such a horrible sight, making Mirabelle exhaust herself healing them, making Isabeau carry them back to the clocktower, making Bonnie cook them a whole separate meal — but still, he doesn't want to lose it. And he knows that doesn't actually matter, he'll loop again like he always does; if the perfect family loop didn't work, why would this failed loop change anything, this disaster where he didn't help anyone and instead they all helped him? But he wants to stay with them so bad. Can't he pretend, just a little longer, that there's any chance of escaping? Can't he force himself through the entire house again, just in case? Can't he act like this miraculous plan to travel together is possible? Can't he hope, one last time?

At the very least, they can linger. Siffrin can feel the dread building, they can't imagine how they're going to bear waking up in that meadow again, but they can put it off for as long as possible. They take their time to check every item. They try not to zone out, and sometimes they accidentally drift for a bit, but sometimes they listen and they do catch something new, bits of travel planning and bits of worry. They don't even use their strongest attacks unless the battle is looking dicey. They just make their way through the house as slowly as they can without raising suspicion.

Siffrin is terrified the entire time; he tries to hide it but he's so so tired, and he's so tired of hiding it, too. Everyone tries to reassure him, but it's to little success; and honestly, that's fair enough, with the King ahead! But then they beat the king and Siffrin is more scared, not less? And he's starting to feel sick and dizzy, too — the wish's conditions have been fulfilled. Its craft is dissipating, and without that energy the craft exhaustion is starting to hit.

But everyone is determined to help. They remind him that they've promised to keep traveling together, and it sets him off crying because he wants it so bad and he's so scared, so they all hug one more time before heading to Euphrasie. And Siffrin reminds himself, just one more time. He just has to hold onto hope this one, last time. Just in case.

They talk to Euphrasie, Siffrin shaking, one arm around Isabeau and other hand in Bonnie's, Odile right next to them, Mirabelle right ahead. When it's their turn, Siffrin takes a deep breath in and out and steps forward, and Euphrasie starts to talk and then—

Stops to ask if they're alright.

And she says something else to him, but he can barely hear it, because it's something different. It's something different. And then Isabeau is guiding him to sit down and reminding him to breathe, and Euphrasie is discussing something with Mirabelle, concerned, and it's all different.

It's different.

And it stays different for the rest of the day, and they wake up the next day to Bonnie shouting that they all need to pack so they can leave for Bambouche. Together.

:( au where siffrin tries to end a loop early but someone sees in time to stop/heal him. and they’re desperately trying to figure out why he did that and convince him life is worth living, and in that discussion someone suggests traveling together after the loops. and then ofc they’re keeping a very close eye on him after that, so, he doesn’t get another chance to reset. then they beat the king! so! conditions met! that’s the last loop! the one where they all saw siffrin try to kill themself! the one where the party surely only agreed to stay with them out of guilty obligation. but he’s selfish so of course he won’t do the right thing and refuse to go along with it. :( :( :(

#well that's not what i meant to do with my afternoon but that's fine i guess. i did deserve a treat #isat #siffrin #the whole family #thoughts #thoughts about siffrin #yknow what i think this counts as #silverstarsfic #isat spoilers #suicide mention #suicide #dagger ending au

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ihni · 2 days ago

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Billy Hargrove's 20th birthday

(Also on AO3)

Billy is having the worst day.

Actually, no. He’s had many days that were worse (most of them including his dad on a rampage), but he’s currently standing on the side of the road with his thumb out, trying to catch a ride back to Hawkins, in the end of March, in the rain, so excuse him for being a little dramatic.

Also it’s his birthday, so. Every inconvenience gets automatically amplified, for some reason.

But fine, it’s not the worst day he’s ever had, but it sure as hell isn’t good, either.

Billy’s turning twenty today, and he’s still stuck in Hawkins. Working two jobs to get by while trying to save up for the move back to California – because it will happen, it was just maybe a bit naïve of him to think that he’d be able to go right after graduation. But he’s out from under his dad’s roof, at least – moved out first thing after getting his diploma – and even if the small space he’s renting over Mrs. Richardson’s garage is seventy degrees of crappy, it’s his and his dad can’t touch him anymore, which makes it the best home Billy has ever had.

But best home or not, it gets terribly depressing to look at the same four walls all the time, at least when he’s not working or sleeping. (It’s not like he has much of a social life anymore, what with him working all the time and having been somewhat of an asshole back in school and also being entirely uninterested in maintaining his ladies’ man reputation now when he’s free of his dad’s fury.) So a couple of months ago, Billy decided that for his 20th birthday, he’d drive up to Indianapolis and have the best night of his life. He had done his research and found two venues that had bands playing that night that he wouldn’t mind listening to, so he would drive to the city, go to a concert, eat some good goddamn food and drink some good goddamn alcohol and maybe get goddamned laid, and he would treat himself to a night at a motel or cheap hotel and he’d have goddamn milkshake for breakfast because he was an adult and no one could stop him from doing that if he wanted to, and he would have the night of his goddamned life.

(It would also get him out of his tiny little apartment, because if he wasn’t home, then it wouldn’t be so noticeable that no one came to see him on his birthday. Perhaps no one would knock on his door to wish him a happy birthday, or perhaps someone would, but he wouldn’t know or care because he wouldn’t be home. Schrödinger’s birthday wishes.)

He’d been saving up for his little outing for almost four months, and looked forward to it for even longer.

He hadn’t even made it halfway. Thirty miles into his trip, the Camaro’s engine spluttered and started smoking, and that was that. After hitching a ride to the nearest house, a phone call to a nearby garage, and two hours of waiting by his broken-down Camaro for a tow, he finally got his baby to an open garage. There, a big guy with an even bigger belly rooted around in her engine for a while and declared her unfit for the road. Getting her working again would cost Billy everything he’d managed to save for this trip and more, and would take at least a week.

Hence why Billy was currently standing on the side of the road with his thumb out, trying to catch a ride back to Hawkins, in the end of March, in the rain.

On his goddamned birthday.

At this point, Billy has gone through the first four stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining (the mechanic just raised an unimpressed eyebrow when he tried to haggle) and depression – and had now landed in acceptance. The day was a bust. His plans had fell through. He’d wanted a good thing, and instead as usual, he’d ended up worse than when he started. With the rain beating down on him and the cars splashing him when they passed, he was soaked through. Soaked through and cold and hungry and poor and one hundred percent over this whole day. He just wanted to get home to his crappy four walls and crawl into his lumpy bed and forget this whole failure of a pipe dream, because God forbid Billy Hargrove gets to have a good day!

Yes, he might still be a little dramatic. Sue him. (Actually don’t, he doesn’t have any money left.)

But it’s been a long day. He started early to get a head start on what he was hoping would be a night to remember, but most of the day has passed and it’s getting dark. Soon, no one will be able to see him here at the side of the road, and with the rain the risk of being hit by a car is just too big. He briefly considers knocking on the door of the first house he sees and ask to stay the night, but immediately discards the idea. No one would open the door for him anyway, the way he looks.

He has just resigned himself to the thought of walking all the way back to Hawkins – it’ll take all night and he’ll probably die of pneumonia in the near future, but at least he’ll be able to crash into bed at the end of it – when a pair of approaching headlights flash at him and he hears a car switching gears to slow down. He also hears music – good music – that is abruptly shut off when the car rolls to a stop next to him.

Three things dawn on him, one after the other:

The car is a van.

The van is not just any van, but the one belonging to local drug dealer Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson is indeed the driver, turning on the little overhead light and motioning at Billy to get in.

It’s not like Billy dislikes Munson. He never bullied him when they went to school together, unlike so many others, because Billy knows the value of good weed and when he first showed up in Hawkins he correctly deduced that Munson would not sell the good weed to his bullies. He knows that Munson at least has a good taste in music, if a flair for the dramatics.

That doesn’t mean that Billy likes Munson. The guy was at the bottom of the totem pole back in school, and hanging out with him then would have been social suicide. Because Billy cared about those things back then.

Now? Now he just wants to get home. Fuck today.

“Need a ride, handsome?”

And it’s a jab somehow, Billy knows it. And if he wasn’t soaked to the bone and shivering, he would have answered something like ‘fuck you’ or ‘didn’t know you swing that way’ or even a sarcastic ‘no, I’m standing out here in the rain because my shower is broken, what’s it to you?’. But he’s weary and doesn’t have the energy for whatever would follow, so he just gives a tired nod.

A wrinkle appears between Munson’s eyebrows, like maybe Billy’s lack of answer is the worrying part.

“Well get in. You look like a drenched rat.”

Another thing that Billy on any other given day would have snapped out a reply to. Today, he just takes it. It’s probably true, anyway.

Climbing into the passenger seat of the van, he waits for Munson to comment on his drenched and haggard appearance or warn him to not get the seat wet (an impossibility, at this point), but instead the worried wrinkle on Munson’s forehead deepens.

“You okay, Hargrove?”

And what does Billy say to that? It’s not so bad, in comparison. Hell, it’s not even the worst birthday he’s ever had (birthdays in the Hargrove household were never a hit when Neil was home). He’s not nursing a cracked rib or a split lip or two broken fingers, his face is not bruised or tear-stained, and he doesn’t have to go to bed without dinner (although, the leftover takeout in his fridge was bordering on inedibility yesterday, and the only other thing he’s got in there are eggs and barbeque sauce, so what that dinner will be is anyone’s guess. He’s got bread. He can make an egg and barbeque sandwich). So in that sense,

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Peachy.”

“Right,” Munson says doubtfully and doesn’t drive. Doesn’t drive for a long time, until Billy tips his head to the side to look at him. Then he blurts out, “You’re not gonna die in my passenger seat, right? Because half the town already thinks I’m, like, killing babies in my free time.”

There’s so many things Billy could say to that. What slips out is, “I’m no baby.”

Munson’s eyes flick down to his broad chest where Billy’s wet jean jacket – which is way too cold for the end of March, what was he thinking? – covers his tight light grey Henley, and clears his throat. “Um,” he says. “Clearly.” And then he seems to shake it off and looks back up at Billy’s face, eyes wide. “I mean, you really don’t look too good, man. You sick or something? Or drunk? Here, let me turn up the heat –“

“I’m fine,” Billy says, just a hint of an edge to his voice, but he doesn’t say anything when Munson’s hand reaches out to turn up the heat. Instead he sinks back in the seat and closes his eyes as he gives a full-body shiver.

“Shit,” Munson says and still doesn’t drive away. Billy hears him turn in his seat and rummage around somewhere behind them. A few seconds later, something soft is tossed in Billy’s face. He opens his eyes and sees that a ratty towel has fallen into his lap, and when he looks up he sees Munson next to him, holding a soft-looking blanket. What?

“What?” Billy says, confused.

“Off with those wet clothes,” Munson demands, “you’ll catch your death.”

“What are you, a grandma?” Billy mutters, slowly regaining his ability to snark as the warm air is being blasted in his face. He puts the towel over his face and wipes it off, and then starts drying his hair with it. It’s not like he’s gonna make it look worse. “Why do you even have this?”

“We use them to pack up our instruments when we go to gigs,” Munson explains, motioning to the back of the van. Billy doesn’t turn around, too busy drying off. “We were in Indy last night, for a gig. I have the instruments in the back. The others drove back this morning.” A pause, then, “Um, I’m in a band.”

Billy knows that. He’s even seen them play once or twice, although he didn’t make himself known. They’re not half bad, actually, not that Billy plans to say it out loud. Instead he makes a noncommittal hum and reaches out for the blanket, glaring when Munson pulls it out of his reach.

“Hey, no,” Munson says, “Off with those wet clothes first.”

“First you’re picking me up from the side of the road and now you want me to strip,” Billy murmurs, but does what he’s told. Even if he’s still sitting in his wet jeans – and soaked-through denim is not fun – it’s a relief to at last get out of his wet jacket and shirt. He discards them in the footwell and puts the blanket – that Munson wordlessly hands him – around his shoulders, pulling it closed in the front. It’s a bit itchy and smells like mold and it probably makes him look like a homeless person, but at least it’s warm. He shivers again and looks pointedly between Munson (who is busy staring) and the windshield and the road ahead.

“Oh, right!” Munson says, snapping to life again. He turns off the overhead light and finally pulls off the side of the road, back into traffic.

Billy has had his license since he was sixteen, and he’s been driving for even longer than that, and before that he simply walked or skated or caught a ride with friends when he wanted to go somewhere. But he has vague childhood memories of riding in the backseat, his parents in the front, at night, during the rain. Of leaning his forehead against the cold glass, feeling the car’s vibrations around him, and looking out in the dark – the only light coming from houses they passed and the other cars’ headlights and their reflections on the wet asphalt. It’s calming, and strangely familiar, and he can feel his eyes flutter shut.

Of course, it doesn’t last.

“So, um,” comes Munson’s voice from beside him, breaking the relative silence. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“Car broke down,” Billy says, keeping it short. Not having the energy to go into his plans for the day and the way they fell through.

“Oh. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

A beat, then, “Were you coming down from Indy too, or …?” Seems like Munson doesn’t like the silence. Billy doesn’t get why he doesn’t just put the music back on. Can’t he see that Billy isn’t exactly in a chatty mood?

“Nope. I was heading there but …”

“But your car broke down?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

And Billy thinks that’s gonna be the end of it. He leans his head on the window and closes his eyes. Listens to the rattling rumble of the engine (Billy’s no mechanic, but he thinks that the van may be heading in the direction of the Camaro, too), and tries not to think.

It doesn’t work. Munson is quiet for maybe a minute before he starts, “So what were you gonna do in Ind–?”

And Billy snaps.

“Listen, man, I’ve had a really bad day. I get that you’re just trying to make conversation but I’m cold and wet and I’m not getting to Indianapolis tonight, so I’ll miss the concert and my car is broken down in a garage thirty miles from home and she’ll be there for a week, and I’m pretty sure they ripped me off when they said how much it’s gonna cost to fix her up.” He takes a breath, trying to keep calm. “I’m grateful to you for driving me back, but like, I’m not exactly the best of company right now.”

To his credit, Munson just nods, eyes wide and ringed fingers gripping the wheel harder. “Got it. Sorry.”

And that’s not … That’s not what Billy wanted. Munson has nothing to apologize for, Billy’s just in a shitty mood. But before he can figure out a way to voice this, Munson has reached out and turned the music back on, quickly turning the volume down to something more resembling background noise.

Billy relaxes back in the seat and pulls the blanket closer around him. Looks out through the windshield, watching the wipers push off the rain and more water cover the glass between every swipe, looking out at the road ahead and the red lights of the nearest car, still far in front of them.

Without really knowing why, he says,

“I’m turning twenty today.”

He doesn’t say it very loudly and he regrets it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Half-hopes that Munson wouldn’t have heard him. But of course he did.

“Really?” comes Munson’s voice, a hint of excitement. “Happy bir–“

“Don’t,” Billy says, and it comes too fast and sounds too hard. It’s not Munson’s fault. He drags a hand down his face and says, “Please” (to soften the blow), “don’t.” He swallows. Closes his eyes against the way they are burning, suddenly. “Just drive me home.”

No more words comes from Munson, and they drive on into the night.

~~~

Billy flinches awake a little while later, not even realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He rubs at his eyes and that’s when he realizes that he’s only wearing an itchy blanket on his upper body, which is when he remembers where he is and why.

He groans.

“We’re not back yet,” Munson says, voice subdued, and that’s when Billy realizes that they’ve stopped and that the music has been switched off. “I just gotta fill her up, and maybe get a few things. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

Billy’s face burns; that makes it sounds as if he’s a toddler who needs his sleep (never mind that his plans when he got home had been to just faceplant into his bed and preferably sleep for a week). To show that he will do no such thing, he sits up straighter and looks around.

They’ve stopped at a gas station. It’s brightly lit up in the dark of the night, artificial lights making Billy’s headache worsen when he squints out through the window. He knows he should go out there and offer to pay for at least some of the gas – that’s what a decent person would do – but Billy’s shirtless under the blanket. His jeans and shoes are damp and uncomfortable; he doesn’t really want to move right now. Besides, he’ll need every cent he has to pay the mechanic so he can get his baby back.

Still, he feels bad. And then he gets angry for feeling bad, because he has so much other shit to feel bad about right now and the last thing he needs is a guilt trip. Even if he’s guilt-tripping himself.

He groans again, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the dashboard to hide from the gas station lights and listening to Munson fiddling with the pump outside the car.

It’s a couple of minutes before the door to the driver’s side opens, and Munson climbs in. The door closes behind him, but Billy doesn’t look up, even as he hears Munson rip open something that crinkles. He waits for the sound of chewing, or for the car to start, but there’s nothing. Nothing for a long time.

Eventually, he turns his head to the side and opens his eyes. And there, right in front of his face is …

A muffin.

He sits up. Blinks.

In Munson’s lap is a four-pack of cheap chocolate chip muffins that he obviously just bought inside the gas station. The packaging has been torn open, and he’s holding one of them out to Billy.

“Happy birthday, man,” he says.

The muffin has a candle in it.

Or no, not a candle. It’s a blunt.

Billy barks out a laugh, and Eddie – whose face has been carefully open and neutral until now – visibly tries tampering down on a smile. He gives the muffin a little shake and raises his eyebrows until Billy’s hand sneaks out from under the blanket and takes it.

“Cute,” he says, voice low, as he gently picks out the blunt. He doesn’t have a pocket that isn’t wet, so he puts it down in his lap, on top of the blanket.

Munson starts the car without acknowledging the gift, but he grabs his own muffin as he starts the car and drives back out on the road, biting off the top of it while he drives one-handed.

The music turned back on when the car did, so they’re back to driving through the darkness to the sound of heavy metal. Billy picks at his muffin, and looks down to the little gift in his lap. The white of the rolled-up paper is visible against the dark brown of the blanket, even in the low light of the night. He thinks about the events of the day, and the plans that fell through, and about his car. He thinks about his place in Hawkins, and how no one has probably knocked on his door today even though they know where he lives. He thinks about his previous birthday, and how much they sucked.

Perhaps he should have known better than having such high expectations for today. Just because it’s his first birthday on his own doesn’t mean that everything will suddenly be perfect. It’s him, after all. He should have known to scale it down a bit.

A gas station cupcake, a blunt, and a friendly face. A warm car, a blanket and ‘happy birthday’.

A friend.

Billy’s eyes burn again, and he blinks and blinks and is grateful that the overhead lamp is off while they continue to drive without speaking. As they get back to Hawkins and Billy sees the hated ‘Welcome to Hawkins’s sign lit up by the van’s headlights, he clears his throat.

“Thank you.”

#billy hargrove #eddie munson #a friend situation BUT could lead to more if you have shipping goggles on and squint and imagine the future after this #but honestly it's just gen #billy's birthday #ihni writes #billy hargrove's 20th birthday

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sativariddle · 10 hours ago

Note

can i request headcannons or drabble or fic or what you prefer about fred weasley x black cat kinda reader? so basically opposites you know. thank u so much!!!

…ISN’T SHE LOVELY?

m.list.

fred weasley was many things—charming, mischievous, a certified menace to hogwarts hallways—but he was not someone who gave up easily.

and when it came to you, he was relentless.

you were the complete opposite in every imaginable way.

where fred thrived on noise and chaos, you flourished in silence and isolation.

he was the kind of person who could talk his way out of—or into—anything, words spilling from his lips like a never-ending stream, always charming, always quick-witted. you, on the other hand, preferred the quiet, finding comfort in the space between words rather than the rush to fill them.

fred hunted for excitement in things that exploded—in fireworks, in pranks, in the kind of reckless spontaneity that made life feel like an experiment.

you, however, found your joy in simpler, quieter moments. a book in your hands, a warm drink, a night spent alone in the library with only the sound of turning pages and the distant crackle of the common room fire to keep you company.

you liked books. he liked fireworks.

you liked the quiet. he was the loudness.

and yet, for all your differences, fred was drawn to you in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

he found himself watching you when you read, utterly fascinated by the way your eyebrows scrunched in concentration whenever a character in your book did something particularly foolish. he watched the way your fingers ghosted over the pages, how you would pause just slightly before flipping to the next, as if savoring each sentence, each word.

and you? you barley glanced at him.

because fred weasley was a storm, and you had spent your life carefully constructing a world untouched by such things. he was messy, unstoppable, always pressing into places you didn’t want to be disturbed.

he was infuriatingly persistent, with a grin that made your stomach twist in ways you refused to acknowledge.

and still, for reasons beyond logic, beyond reason, beyond all the things that made sense in the world—

fred weasley liked you.

you weren’t mean, per se, but you didn’t waste time on nonsense either—something fred weasley happened to specialize in.

and yet, that didn’t avert him. no, if anything, it made you all the more irresistible. so, fred weasley made it his personal mission to get you to notice him.

go out with him.

── ATTEMPT #1

“hey there, gorgeous,” fred greeted with a smirk, casually leaning against the library table where you were deeply immersed in a book on dark arts counter-curses.

you didn’t even look up.

fred, unfazed, plopped down across from you, tapping the book with his finger. “y’know, if you’re interested in counter-curses, you should see the one i put on filch’s broom closet. absolute masterpiece. you’d be impressed.”

silence.

“i mean, i don’t want to boast, though—”

you flipped a page.

fred blinked.

for the first time in his life, his charm had failed so spectacularly that he felt personally offended. he dramatically clutched his chest. “blimey, you wound me, love. not even a glance? a chuckle? nothing?”

still nothing.

── .✦ ATTEMPT #2

fred was no stranger to public displays of ridiculousness, so naturally, his next step involved something big.

“alright, ladies and gentlemen, gather round!” he announced in the great hall during breakfast, hopping onto one of the benches.

you barely spared him a glance as fred’s grin faltered for half a second, but he pressed on, undeterred.

he cleared his throat dramatically and held up a parchment.

“for the most elusive, most mysterious, most devastatingly beautiful witch at hogwarts, i have penned a sonnet. ahem.”

ron groaned. “merlin’s sake, someone stop him.”

fred ignored him and continued.

❝ roses are red,

my hair is too,

you hate me,

let me date you? ❞

silence.

one second…

two seconds…

three…-

the entire gryffindor table burst into laughter.

someone clapped.

even mcgonagall looked mildly entertained.

you? you continued eating your toast like nothing had happened.

his stomach dipped.

surely, surely, you’d at least react.

a scoff? a smirk? an eye-roll? something?

anything.

fred slumped into his seat, utterly humiliated.

“well, that was a bloody disaster,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

george patted his back. “it was tragic, really. i’d be embarrassed if i were you.”

“i am embarrassed.”

“she’s uninterested.”

fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he plopped back onto the bench in defeat. “impossible. no one is uninterested in me.”

“tell that to her.”

fred did. again and again. and again.

── .✦ ATTEMPT #3

if charm didn’t work, and public spectacle failed, then perhaps what fred weasley needed… was a prank.

and so, he did what any reasonable person would do—he slipped a pygmy puff into your bag.

it was a foolproof plan. the tiny thing was bright pink, obnoxiously fluffy, and would surely elicit some kind of reaction from you.

at first, you didn’t even notice.

then, in the middle of class, a small, high-pitched squeak sounded from your bag.

you blinked.

the room went silent.

professor flitwick stopped mid-sentence.

squeak!

slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out the tiny creature, holding it up for everyone to see. it wriggled happily, unaware that it had just become the center of attention.

fred, sitting a few rows behind, was biting his lip so hard to contain his laughter that he nearly choked.

your eyes flickered to him.

your gaze finally, finally flickered to him—a fleeting movement, barely a second long, but to fred, it felt like the universe had just tilted in his favor.

for the first time, your eyes met his, truly met his, and his breath caught in his throat.

it wasn’t much.

just a glance.

a flicker of awareness.

but merlin, it sent something electric racing down his spine.

his heart, that thumping little thing, did a little victory dance, thudding wildly against his ribs like a snitch desperate to break free.

had you always looked at people like that? like you were sizing them up, as if deciding whether they were worth your time?

and more importantly—had you just decided he might be?

you didn’t say anything, but the slight arch of your brow spoke volumes.

well played, weasley.

── .✦ THE MOMENT HE ALMOST GAVE UP.

by the time fred had exhausted nearly every trick in the book, even he had to admit that you were stubborn.

you were like a fortress—unshakable, unreadable, and completely immune to his failed attempts.

“i don’t get it,” he groaned, sprawled on the gryffindor common room couch. “i’ve done every sort of presenting, and she still won’t budge.”

george snorted. “maybe she just doesn’t like you, mate.”

fred sat up sharply. “no. impossible. i refuse to believe that.”

still, doubt gnawed at him.

maybe george was right. maybe you simply weren’t interested. maybe he should—

“fine.”

fred nearly fell off the couch.

you stood before him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

he swears on his whole existence, the entire common room had gone silent.

fred froze. “—what?”

“you win, weasley,” you said, tilting your head. “one date.”

for a full second, fred forgot how to function.

he swore he could feel the heat rush straight from his chest to his ears, because bloody hell, you were looking at him—really looking at him—and it was doing things to his already fragile sanity.

he opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, utterly and completely dumbfounded.

then, like the fool he was, he grinned.

wide.

ridiculously so.

“well, well, well,” he drawled, trying (and failing) to keep the sheer glee out of his voice. “i knew you couldn’t resist me forever.”

you rolled your eyes. “don’t push your luck.”

“oh, i absolutely will.”

he wasn’t lying.

but as you turned and walked away, fred caught something—a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk on your lips.

fred spun toward george with the giddiness of a man utterly bewitched, his grin stretching so wide it nearly split his freckled face in two.

his excitement was practically definite, buzzing in the air around him as he clapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder, eyes still dancing with the memory of her.

“isn’t she just lovely?” he sighed, his voice brimming with something dangerously close to awe, as if he himself couldn’t quite believe the effect you had on him.

george, merely raised a brow, glancing between fred’s dreamy expression and the direction you had just walked away in.

with a long, suffering sigh, he muttered, “you’re doomed, mate.”

fred only grinned wider.

that chase was over. but the real fun?

had only just begun.

xoxo.

#fred weasly x reader #harry potter #hp fandom #hp marauders #fanfic #hogwarts houses #theodore nott #ravenclaw #george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins #harry potter x you #black cat #opposites attract

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helvegen-s · 1 day ago

Text

crossing lines | five

index

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC

Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: emotional abuse, verbal abuse, toxic relationships, past trauma

A/N: this is coming to an end!! i planed this story to be short (two more parts), since it's the first time i've ever written anything f1 related. i hope you are liking it :))

Livia sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers gently swirling the wine in her glass. Her friends, gathered around the room, watched her with curious smiles, waiting for her to speak. The night had been magical, and now it was her turn to share.

"So... what happened?" Chiara asked, leaning forward with excitement. "Tell us everything!"

Livia smiled, her heart still fluttering from the events of the evening. She took a deep breath, her gaze distant for a moment as she remembered Carlos's touch, his tenderness. It was as if everything felt... different now.

"It was... perfect," Livia began softly, her voice betraying the happiness she hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel in a long time. "We walked along the harbor, talked about everything and nothing... It just felt... easy, you know? Like we were on the same page. And when he kissed me..." She paused, a smile tugging at her lips. "It was like everything else faded away. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could just... breathe."

Her friends exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening. Chiara raised an eyebrow. "So, what does that mean for you and him?"

Livia took a sip of wine, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the man who had made her feel like this. "I don’t know. But for the first time in... forever, I feel like something can actually go right. That maybe, just maybe, I can have something real, something that makes sense. It’s... refreshing."

"Real?" Serena asked, tilting her head slightly. "I thought you didn’t do real anymore."

Livia smiled, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes. "I didn’t think I could, either. After everything..." She trailed off, the weight of her past suddenly clouding her moment of happiness.

Chiara looked at her closely. "What do you mean?"

Livia’s gaze lowered, as though searching for the right words. "My ex... He destroyed so much of my trust. I didn’t even realize how much until recently. It wasn’t just the relationship; it was everything that came with it. The way he controlled everything, manipulated me. It was like I was suffocating, and I didn’t even know how to breathe on my own anymore." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "That’s why I’ve always been so guarded, why I kept people at arm's length. I didn’t know how to let anyone in after that. I was too scared."

Her friends sat quietly, taking in her words. Chiara finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "I get it, Liv. But Carlos... he’s not him. You know that, right?"

Livia nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of hope and hesitation. "I know. That’s the part that scares me. But with Carlos, it’s different. He doesn’t want to change me. He just... gets me. For once, someone isn’t judging me or pushing me to be something I’m not. He understands what it’s like to always have eyes on you. It’s like... like we don’t have to explain ourselves to each other."

Martina smiled knowingly, her voice teasing. "Well, it sounds like someone’s already falling."

Livia laughed, a playful lightness returning to her tone. "Maybe I am. But I’m taking it slow. I don’t want to rush into anything."

"Of course," Chiara said with a knowing wink. "But don’t forget to enjoy it. You deserve to feel good, Liv. After everything, you deserve something real."

Livia smiled at her friends, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. For the first time in years, she felt like she could truly embrace the possibility of something better. And maybe, just maybe, Carlos was the person who would make that possible.

The Amalfi sun bathed the coastline in its warm glow, and Livia began to notice something she hadn’t felt in a long time—her laughter came naturally, free of any weight. Every day with Carlos felt like a little adventure, and as they explored together, she felt the walls she had built around herself slowly crumble.

They filled their days with all kinds of plans. One morning, Carlos rented a small sailboat, and not far from the harbor, they found a hidden cove where they spent the afternoon swimming and laughing. Another day, they drove to a nearby town, wandering through its narrow streets and poking around in charming souvenir shops.

Each day brought a new excuse to steal kisses, share subtle touches, and enjoy the thrill of discovering each other in ways they hadn’t before.

The idea of horseback riding came up casually over breakfast on a terrace overlooking the sea. Livia had mentioned, with visible excitement, how riding had always been one of her favorite activities growing up—a source of peace.

Carlos, not one to back down from an adventure, agreed to the plan but confessed he’d never been on a horse before.

“Never?” Livia asked, both surprised and amused.

“Never,” Carlos admitted, laughing. “But I’m willing to give it a shot. Just don’t laugh if I fall.”

At the stable, nestled among green hills with breathtaking views of the Mediterranean, Livia took the lead. Dressed in light riding pants and boots, she greeted the owner, an old family friend, with a natural confidence. She quickly picked out a calm horse for Carlos.

“This is Nero,” she said, stroking the neck of a dark brown horse. “He’s gentle and perfect for beginners. Don’t worry—he won’t bite.”

“And what if I outrun you?” Carlos teased, eyeing Nero as if sizing up an opponent.

“Then I’ll have to show you what years of practice can do,” Livia quipped, mounting her white horse with ease.

The ride started slowly, with Livia explaining the basics. “Sit straight, but stay relaxed. Keep the reins firm, but don’t pull too hard. And please, don’t try to go faster unless you’re sure of yourself.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Any more advice, or are you just trying to prove I’m a rookie?”

“Don’t get defensive!” she shot back with a playful smile. “Come on, Nero’s your teammate now.”

Carlos moved stiffly at first, every step of the horse making him wobble awkwardly. Meanwhile, Livia glided gracefully, her years of experience evident.

“Having fun?” she called back, pausing to let him catch up.

“Absolutely,” Carlos replied, feigning confidence. “Though I think my legs are going to hate me tomorrow.”

After some practice, Livia suggested a gentle trot. “Come on, try to keep up,” she challenged.

“If I fall, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“No promises,” she said with a mischievous grin before urging her horse forward.

To his credit, Carlos managed to keep up, his determination earning Livia’s admiration. By the end of the ride, with the sun setting over the hills, he dismounted clumsily but with a genuine smile.

“Well, I survived. That counts as an achievement, right?”

Livia approached him, still laughing softly. “You did well for your first time. Though I think Nero deserves most of the credit.”

“So the horse is the favorite, huh?” Carlos teased, brushing dust off his pants.

Livia smiled warmly. “You might have to visit Amalfi more often. I never thought I’d see you on a horse.”

Carlos shrugged. “What can I say? For you, I’ll try anything.”

As they walked back together, the horses trailing behind, the fading sunlight painted the sky in shades of gold and pink. Livia felt a rare sense of contentment, knowing these moments with Carlos were what truly mattered.

They didn’t spend all their time alone. Some nights, Livia joined Carlos at gatherings with his childhood friends. One evening, at a beachside bar, a group of musicians began improvising a song, and Livia, encouraged by the wine and the festive atmosphere, joined in singing. From his spot at the bar, Carlos watched her, captivated by the ease and joy she radiated.

“Is she always like this?” one of his friends asked.

“Not at all,” Carlos replied with a smile, his eyes never leaving Livia. “But I love seeing her this way.”

On another occasion, Livia introduced Carlos to her friends. They spent an afternoon at the beach, playing volleyball and sharing stories. The day was perfect—the sun glittering on the water and laughter filling the air. As they sat on the sand with cold drinks and a relaxed vibe, Chiara decided it was the perfect moment to "interrogate" Carlos.

“Well, Carlos, since you’re the most interesting person at the table and, clearly, the only man here, I have some important questions for you,” Chiara said, her grin wide enough to make Livia immediately suspicious.

Carlos leaned forward, amused and intrigued. “Go ahead, Chiara. I’m ready.”

Chiara shifted in her seat, as if preparing to moderate a press conference. “First: how many drivers on the grid are single? And if there are any, who would you say is the most handsome? Purely professional curiosity.”

Carlos burst into laughter as Livia covered her face with her hand, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“Well,” Carlos began, trying not to laugh too hard, “there are a few single ones, but I’m not sure who’s looking for someone... Or should I just tell you who’s the most handsome?”

“Please!” Chiara exclaimed, raising her hands. “Let me make it easier for you. If you had to play matchmaker, who would you pair me with? I want options—and phone numbers.”

“Chiara, for the love of God…” Livia interjected, attempting to sound serious but failing to hide her smile.

Carlos took it in stride. “Alright, let’s see. I think Pierre would be thrilled. He’s fun, loves fashion, and always has a joke ready. Or maybe Lando, if you’re into younger guys with charisma.”

Chiara pretended to jot down notes in the air. “Hmm, interesting. Though I’m not sure about the ‘younger’ part.”

One afternoon, while Livia and Carlos were relaxing on a terrace overlooking the harbor, Livia glanced at her phone and noticed a message from an unknown number. A wave of unease washed over her instantly. Opening the message, its contents struck her like a blow from the past:

"So, you're in Amalfi with a driver now. Looking for another story for the public? You know how these things end."

The message was brief, but its intention was clear. It was her ex. The carefully chosen, stinging words disrupted the peace she had been building.

Carlos, sitting across from her, noticed the change in her expression.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

"I don’t know," Livia admitted, vulnerability creeping into her tone. "He stopped bothering me a while ago, but he always knows when to reappear to..."

Livia looked up, attempting a smile, but it didn’t convince him. She hesitated for a moment before showing him the message. Carlos read it, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the words.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked calmly, though his voice carried an edge.

"To try to control your life," Carlos finished, his gaze sharp and protective.

Carlos set the phone down on the table and leaned closer, taking her hand firmly. "Livia, you don’t have to deal with this alone. If he bothers you again, we’ll handle it together. I’m not going to let him drag you down again."

Carlos gave her a small smile, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I don’t know if I always do, but I know this: I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not while I’m here."

Livia looked at him, surprised by his determination. She had expected discomfort, maybe even a suggestion to ignore the problem, but his response disarmed her.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "I don’t know how you always know exactly what to say."

The Amalfi vacation came to an end faster than either of them would have liked. On their last afternoon together, sitting by the sea, Livia and Carlos discussed what they had started to build.

"What do we do now?" Livia asked, gazing at the horizon. The breeze gently played with her hair, and while her voice was calm, there was a note of uncertainty in it.

Carlos looked at her, his fingers idly playing with a small shell he had picked up on the beach. "I think the best thing is to keep this between us, at least for now. The press always finds a way to ruin something good."

Livia nodded, relieved that they were on the same page. "I don’t want what we have to become a spectacle. I want us to decide when, how, and if we share it with the world."

Carlos took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Then that’s what we’ll do. Just us. At least until we’re ready."

Back in their respective lives, Livia and Carlos found ways to stay connected. Long nightly calls filled with laughter and spontaneous messages throughout the day became part of their routine. Carlos sent photos from the circuits, often with sarcastic comments about paddock gossips, while Livia shared images of her latest designs or small everyday moments she thought might make him smile.

It didn’t take long for eagle-eyed fans to start noticing coincidences in their Instagram posts. A photo of Livia enjoying gelato in Amalfi suspiciously matched another of Carlos at the same spot, posted just hours apart. A sunset on the beach, an Italian restaurant... the clues were enough for theories to start swirling.

Despite this, neither Livia nor Carlos commented publicly. When journalists tried to broach the subject during interviews, both deflected with calculated responses.

Months later, the Italian Grand Prix at Monza was a whirlwind of emotions. Ferrari secured an incredible home victory with Charles Leclerc crossing the finish line first, while Carlos finished a respectable fourth after an intense battle on track. Although he didn’t make the podium, his performance was solid, and the paddock buzzed with pride and celebration.

Livia had followed the race from a private hospitality suite, staying discreet but feeling every moment of excitement. When Carlos crossed the finish line, she couldn’t help but applaud, admiring his determination on such a demanding circuit.

That evening, Ferrari hosted a gala dinner in Milan to commemorate the triumph. Livia received an invitation through her professional circle, and while she knew attending could fuel rumors, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to be there.

The event took place in a luxurious palace in the heart of the city. Golden lights illuminated the façade as elegantly dressed guests arrived in sleek cars.

Carlos was already there, surrounded by teammates and industry figures. He wore a flawlessly tailored Visconti dark blue suit, though his attention was clearly divided. He couldn’t stop glancing around, wondering when Livia might appear.

The sound of animated conversation filled the hall as Carlos chatted with Lando, George, and Charles. Then, the grand doors opened, and Livia entered, arm-in-arm with her father.

She wore an elegant black dress that enhanced her natural poise, her smile lighting up the room. Carlos couldn’t help but watch as she moved with that unmistakable grace he had always associated with her. But now, there was no trace of the skepticism or irritation she had once inspired in him. Instead, he found himself captivated, unable to look away.

"You’re missing something, Sainz," Lando said with a sly grin, following Carlos’s gaze. "But don’t worry, just keep staring. That’ll fix it."

Carlos rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the comments, though his focus remained on Livia as she greeted familiar faces and exchanged pleasantries with her father.

Moments later, Livia approached their group with a warm smile, her tone bright yet composed, as though she had always belonged in their circle.

"Good evening," she said graciously, greeting the group. "First of all, congratulations, Lando. McLaren has been making quite the impression lately."

"Thank you," Lando replied, beaming with pride. "We’re working hard to stay competitive."

"And Charles," she continued, turning to Leclerc. "An amazing victory today. Ferrari needed that in front of its home crowd. It was thrilling to see you on the podium."

Charles nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, Livia. Monza is always special, but winning here... it’s something else entirely."

The conversation flowed naturally as Livia spoke with a mix of knowledge and charisma that captured everyone’s attention. Carlos, though silent, couldn’t stop admiring her. There was something about the way she navigated the discussion, making everyone feel valued, that left him utterly entranced.

The evening seemed perfect until an unexpected voice shattered the harmony.

“You always knew how to be the center of attention, didn’t you, Livia?”

The sharp tone made Livia tense instantly. Slowly, she turned to find Matteo, her ex-partner, walking toward the group. With his impeccable suit and false smile, he radiated the arrogance that Livia had long learned to despise.

“Matteo,” Livia said with her characteristic poised air, straightening up immediately. “I didn’t know you were invited.”

“I’m surprised you were,” Matteo replied, his smile turning even more bitter. “Then again, you’ve always known how to sneak into places you don’t belong.”

“If I’m here, it’s because I earned it,” Livia shot back, not losing her composure. “Unlike others, I don’t need money to open doors for me.”

The pilots exchanged surprised glances. The tension was palpable, but Livia continued to project that unwavering confidence she was known for—or at least seemed to.

“Always so quick with words,” Matteo continued, stepping closer. “But behind all that charm and facade, you’re still the same insecure little girl who needs everyone’s attention to feel validated.”

Livia narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t miss a beat. “I’d rather be an ‘insecure little girl’ than someone incapable of entering a relationship without destroying the other person’s life.”

The group fell silent, processing the blow Livia had delivered. But Matteo wasn’t finished.

“Relationship? Call it what it was, Livia: a performance, and you were the star. Always so good at pretending everything was fine. And look at you now, with your new ‘friends.’ What are you doing here? Looking for another name to add to your collection? The richer, the better, right?”

Matteo’s words hit like a sledgehammer. For a moment, Livia seemed to lose her breath. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The scars from her past with him, which she thought had healed, suddenly tore open again.

“That’s enough,” Carlos intervened, stepping forward. His tone was calm, but there was a sharpness in his voice that made Matteo sneer.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” Matteo sneered, turning to face Carlos. “Another idiot who buys into her act?”

Lando joined Carlos, crossing his arms. “I think we all know who the real idiot is here.”

Charles added coldly, “What I don’t understand is why you’re still here. It’s clear you’re not welcome.”

“Welcome?” Matteo laughed mockingly. “How amusing. None of you know the real Livia. Always so good at pretending to be strong, but let me tell you something: no matter who she surrounds herself with, she’ll always be the same broken person.”

Matteo’s cruel words made Livia take a small step back, as though they had physically struck her.

Carlos stepped closer, his gaze fixed on Matteo. “That’s enough. If you have a problem with Livia, this is neither the time nor the place. And believe me, it’s not in your best interest to continue.”

“Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it, guard dog?” Matteo provoked, stepping toward Carlos.

Before the situation could escalate, Charles placed a hand on Carlos’s arm, holding him back. “Leave it, Carlos,” he said in a low but firm voice. “He’s not worth it.”

Matteo looked around, noticing the defiant expressions of the pilots surrounding him. Despite his arrogance, even he knew when to back down.

“This isn’t over, Livia,” he said finally, throwing her one last look before turning and walking away.

When Matteo disappeared into the crowd, Livia stood still, her eyes glassy but fixed on the ground. Carlos turned to her, his face filled with concern.

"Livia," he said softly, placing a hand on her arm.

She looked up, but the words seemed trapped in her throat. Finally, she murmured, "I need to get out of here."

Carlos nodded immediately. "Let's go."

Without letting go of her, he guided her toward the exit under the curious gaze of those present, leaving the noise of the hall behind. Once outside, the cool night air wrapped around them. Livia took a few steps forward, pulling away a little, trying to control the tears that threatened to overflow.

"Livia," Carlos said, approaching her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn't want this to happen... I didn’t want..."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Carlos interrupted firmly. "He was the problem, not you."

The tears finally fell, and Livia tried to cover her face, embarrassed. But Carlos wrapped her in a hug, allowing her to lean on him as her emotions overwhelmed her.

"My God, how embarrassing. Why do I always end up crying when I'm with you? You should know that this isn't usually me."

Carlos chuckled softly as he looked at Livia, wiping her tears with the handkerchief from his suit. With his hand still on her back, he leaned slightly to meet her gaze. "Are you feeling better?" he asked gently, as though fearing to push too much.

Livia weakly nodded, carefully wiping her tears. "I'm sorry for ruining the night. I didn't want to..."

"Hey," Carlos interrupted, placing a hand under her chin to make her look at him. "None of this is your fault, okay? And the night isn’t ruined. I'm here with you, and that's all that matters."

She looked at him, her eyes still shining with emotion, but now there was something else: a warmth that came from Carlos's words, from his presence. He kissed her forehead as he hugged her again, enjoying the way their bodies fit together perfectly.

"You always know what to say, don't you? Is it a natural talent, or have you practiced a lot?" Livia said with a small smile, though still a little shaky.

Carlos laughed softly, gently brushing Livia's hair. "Let’s say it’s something I save for special occasions."

Livia let out a small, more genuine laugh this time, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. "Thanks for not leaving me alone in there. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I should go back and thank the guys too, it was really sweet of them to stand up for me."

Carlos tilted his head, seeking her gaze. "You don’t need to thank anyone. I'm here because I want to be. And I’m not going anywhere."

Before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted the moment.

"Wow, now this is a dramatic scene. Should I be worried?"

Livia quickly turned to find her father, watching them with a mix of humor and curiosity. He was swinging his cane in his right hand as he slowly approached them.

"Dad," Livia said, her voice still weak but with a hint of concern. "What are you doing here? You should be inside."

"And miss this?" he replied, raising an eyebrow. "I've been bored all night listening to men in suits talk about engines. At least out here, it seems like something interesting is going on."

Carlos, feeling uncomfortable but maintaining his composure, took a small step back. "Sir, I apologize if we’ve caused any worry."

Livia's father studied him closely before flashing a smile. "Worry? Not at all. Though I must say, you’ve handled this situation better than I would have. If the scene had lasted any longer, I’d have kicked that rude Matteo’s ass with my cane myself."

"Dad," Livia interrupted, clearly embarrassed.

"Relax, my love," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm just saying I’m impressed. This guy has style. And patience. Something, if I’m honest, that’s not easy to find."

Carlos let out a small chuckle. "I do what I can."

Livia’s father turned to her and, with a tremendous physical effort, kissed the top of her head, his tone now softer. "Are you okay?"

Livia nodded, although her eyes were still shining. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

"Good," he said, looking back at Carlos. "Then I trust you’ll take good care of her. Because if not, you’ll have to face me. And believe me, I can be a lot worse than Matteo."

Livia let out a laugh, though still moved by the moment. "Dad, don’t scare Carlos."

"Scare him? No way," her father replied, smiling knowingly at the driver. "This guy has more guts than I thought. I think he can handle anything."

Carlos smiled, nodding in a gesture of respect. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

Livia’s father watched them for a moment before letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess this is the moment where I say something wise and profound, right?"

Livia raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean, Dad?"

He looked at her, then at Carlos, and gave a mischievous smile. "I mean that this gala is terribly boring, and after everything that just happened, I think we need something… more authentic."

Carlos looked at him curiously. "Something more authentic?"

"Exactly," the man said, crossing his arms. "There’s a place not far from here, a little joint I used to frequent when I was young. They make the best burgers you’ll ever taste. No foie gras or carpaccio. Just meat, cheese, and fries. What do you say? Shall we get out of here?"

Livia blinked, clearly surprised. "Are you suggesting we leave the Ferrari gala to eat burgers?"

"Exactly that," her father replied with a wide grin. "Come on, Liv. You said yourself the night’s already been pretty eventful. Why not finish it off in an even more memorable way?"

Carlos let out a laugh, impressed by the man’s spontaneity. "Sounds like a good plan, sir."

"That’s the spirit!" her father exclaimed, giving Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "See, Livia? He gets it. Plus, after everything you’ve been through tonight, I think you deserve a good burger. I’ll call the driver. Or are you driving, pretty boy?" he said, pointing at Carlos.

Livia couldn’t help but laugh at her father’s comment, and Carlos laughed along with her.

"I’ll go get the car," said the Spanish driver.

Taglist:

@smoooothoperator @leptitlu

if you want to be added to the taglist, let me now!!

#carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #cs55 x reader #cs55 #f1 masterlist #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1

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theloudshygirl · 1 day ago

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If you told 14/15 year old me, Louis will be seen in the same room as Zayn after being no contact for years, she would be ecstatic jumping off the walls, treating all her close ones to a meal with her limited allowance money because her two boys have found their way back to each other, like she knew(hoped) they always would.

But here I am at 25 years old, laying down after a stressful tiring day at work, I see a TikTok posted 40 mins ago and knowing better with age than to immediately believe it I investigate further. Its true. Louis was in-fact at Zayn’s concert, Zayn even gave him a shoutout. I should be flying off the walls. And yet the first thing I could do was sob. Crying cause this is what I’ve been hoping for, praying to the universe for years, and while I am incredibly happy about it, I didn’t know this would come at such a cost. I don’t think the boys did either.

I find myself hesitant to pray for things now, ‘let me have this <xyz> please universe’ doesn’t come to me as easily cause I know now there is a price to pay for it. I don’t think 14/15 year old me would trade for a Zouis reunion in return for him being gone.

The strange thing is, this isn’t my first time grieving someone, but it’s the first grief where the universe throws me a reminder of “hey isn’t this something you wanted to happen for long, you begged for it, well here you go, do you feel happy now?”.

I miss him so much and I cannot believe he’s no longer here. The teenager in me, who solely relied on them for survival cannot believe one of her boys is gone forever.

If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t ask for a reunion nor an interaction together, I would just want them to be alive and happy. And that’s all what I pray for my other 4 boys now, separated or together.

#liam payne #zayn malik #one direction #louis tomlinson #zouis

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anwhim · 19 hours ago

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| 𝓙AY AS A 'HUSBAND' (BASED ON HIS CHART)

... • ❝ 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆ℯ𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋. astrology reading ℱ JAY (04.20.2002) NOTE: im still learning about astrology (not an expert) but i promise you i have knowledge <3

FULL ANALYSIS

SUPER SUPER LOYAL & DEVOTED

"Forever kind of love" with his taurus sun, mercury, and venus, he's the kind of husband who doesn’t take commitment lightly. When he chooses someone, he’s in it for the long run. Divorce isn’t even a thought in his mind. He wants stability, a lifelong partnership, and a home filled with love.

He makes his wife feel secure (not just financially) but emotionally. He’s not the type to throw around big romantic gestures often, but the way he consistently shows up proves his love more than words? omg (acts of service yeahh you hear me) He values tradition and consistency...the type to always hold her hand when walking together or make sure she eats before he does.

2. AFFECTIONATE but but in his OWN WAY

I'm not sure if he has a cancer or leo moon? he has deep emotions, but they show up differently depending on his mood.

If he’s in a Cancer Moon phase, he’s protective, nurturing, and sentimental.If it’s Leo Moon energy, he’s proud, warm, and loves to be adored. Either way, he needs reassurance...his love isn’t one-sided. He thrives when his wife shows him just as much love in return.

3. ACTS OF SERVICE OVER WORDS

I brought this up in the first bullet, but it’s pretty clear he’s the type to act like that since I’ve seen videos of him helping people. Have you all seen that one where a staff member (girl) was carrying a tray with a water bottle and he offered to help, but she said no but he really wanted to since it seemed heavy? BARK BARK BARK

His taurus mercury and venus make him a practical romantic. He’s not one to "sweet-talk" or write long, emotional texts but he’ll fix things around the house.

He’s dependable and steady, making sure his wife never has to worry about anything.

If she ever doubts his love, he’ll remind her through actions, not just words.

He prefers routine and reliability..he’s the type to kiss her forehead before bed every night without fail.

4. PROTECT BUT NOT CONTROLLING

With cancer jupiter, he has a strong instinct to protect and nurture.

If his wife is stressed, he’ll pull her into his chest and stroke her hair until she calms down.If someone disrespects her? he won’t make a scene...but he’ll handle it in a way that makes sure it never happens again. He doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, he’s more passive-aggressive than confrontational.

5. Playful and Teasing ( But Knows When to Be Serious )

His gemini mars and saturn bring a fun, teasing energy.

He’s the type of husband who pokes fun at his wife but gets offended if someone else does.

He enjoys lighthearted arguments and playful bickering.

But when it’s time to be serious, he instantly shifts gears and becomes the rock she can lean on.

6. Emotionally In-Tune – But Doesn’t Like Feeling Weak

With pisces lilith, he has a soft, almost hidden side that only his wife truly sees.

He can get deeply emotional, but he hates feeling vulnerable in front of others.

If he ever cries, it’s only in private with his wife.

If she’s struggling emotionally, he’ll stay up with her, quietly holding her until she falls asleep.

7. Takes His Role as a Husband Seriously.. again bark bark bark

His Leo Juno means he sees marriage as something grand and meaningful.

He wants a wife he can be proud of, show off, and cherish.

He takes the idea of being a provider and protector seriously.

He believes a husband should lead with strength, but love with gentleness.

additional stuff cuz i cant keep my mouth shut

THIS HO IS SOOOOO SOFT FOR HIS WIFE, BUT WILL NEVER ADMIT IT...

He’s naturally more serious and composed, but when it comes to her? He has weak spots.He lets her get away with things others can’t.If she insists on something ridiculous, he acts annoyed but always gives in.If she falls asleep on him, he stays still, even if he’s uncomfortable.

YK THE SONG BY NE-YO "MAD"? SPECIFICALLY THIS LINE? Girl, I don't wanna go to bed (Mad at you)

bitch i tell you He’s not the type to start arguments, but he also won’t let things slide if it matters. If there’s a disagreement, he listens first...but if something truly bothers him, he won’t back down.

He doesn’t raise his voice, but his serious tone is enough to make a point. BACK TO THE THING THAT I WAS SAYING BEFORE EVERYTHING I JUST DROPPED HE.... NEVER lets an argument last longer than it should.

He doesn’t like going to bed angry. READ THAT AGAINNNNNNN

#enhypen #enhypen jay #astrology #analysis #enhypen astrology #enhypen thoughts #park jongseong #jay astrology #jay #reading

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kupidachillea · 1 day ago

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is it okay to ask for your hcs on Apollo? Specifically yandere headcannons? I loved the way you wrote him in the last yandere Olympians so I just wanted to see more of him :3 (totally ok if you don't want to do it!! Love your works!! 💞💞💞)

(Yandere) Apollo x You Hcs

Author note: Ah- I see the Apollon fans have been using requests to their advantage and I love it, lol. Sorry that this took so long, I prefer quality over quantity. So I don’t want to rush myself and give you also something you won’t enjoy! So I hope you like this💕

TW (trigger warning):This will have a Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: Readers please be either 17-18+ to read this I mean. This includes light mentions of nudity, toxic behaviour. General Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

☀️- Apollon was your boyfriend. Not the most normal partner you’ve had but definitely the most attentive and loving.

🎵- His caresses feel like the sun itself is holding you in a warm, tight embrace. And his kisses are even better..they remind you of the sun’s rays peeking through the curtains in your bedroom and landing gracefully on you.

☀️- You were literally sun kissed. To put it lightly, he was everything you wanted and you were everything he wanted… and more. He loved you so much.

🎵- At first, Apollon was nervous to even consider a relationship with you. Not because he didn’t like you but because he knew how most of his other relationships have played out in the past.

☀️- Being happy one minute with his lover before death ripped them away from in one cruel swoop. So he had procrastinated quite a bit before finally asking the question that’s been eating him inside.

🎵- When you said ‘yes’, he was beyond ecstatic to say the least. And he will admit, the more time he spent with you the more he seemed to show a mixture of love and obsession.

☀️- For a moment he thought that it was the work of Eros once more just trying to harass him like in the days of old with his late love, Daphne. But no..this was all him. He wasn’t sure if he were to be scared, or embrace this side of himself…but over time, the decision was made for him.

🎵- As the days wore on, his love for you grew. You were just so perfect to him…so pretty…yet so fragile. He couldn’t let anything happen to you- hell- he can’t let anyone touch you. No one deserved to touch your precious body. No one but him..

☀️- “Mmm…you’re so beautiful..” He would slur as you both laid in bed cuddling each other bare. His body was so warm against yours…he felt like a living breathing heater.

🎵- “So beautiful..and so mine…” Apollon would grumble..firstly kissing your neck and gently weaving his finger through your hair. “All mine…isn’t that right, love?” He asked, though you weren’t entirely sure if you could respond, your body trembled slightly when he bit down on your neck..causing a love bite to eventually form as he sucked on the area.

☀️- His hands getting greedy, gently tugging your hair back so your neck would crane slightly. This allowed him more access to your delectable neck. “Of course you’re mine…only the best for someone like you…only a god can satisfy you and give you what you need.” He almost growled his words as he licked a long strip up to your jaw, causing you to gasp and shudder. His tongue flat against your neck, tasting your skin and his free arm curling around your waste only for his hand to grip the meat of your arse tightly.

🎵- “No mortal man or woman is allowed to have you…not even the gods…only me.” He would utter. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone other than himself having you. It didn’t seem right to him. How could did he go so long without knowing you before?

☀️- You knew Apollon was a possessive man, and it couldn’t be helped..You actually excused most of his behaviour. Passing it off as just deity behaviour. Besides..he meant you no harm. He just wanted you safe and sound in his arms. Right?

🎵- Of course he did..that’s why he thought he was perfectly within his right to…eliminate and threats or competition.

☀️- It’s not like you’d notice a few of your pathetic so call ‘friends’ going missing anyway. You were too busy focusing all your time and energy on him.

🎵- All your love was his. He’d often watch you sleep…smiling dreamily to himself as he watched your chest rise and fall. That sweet little mortal heart of yours beating steadily. Oh how he’d do anything to keep you with him…permanently..

☀️- “Let us get married, my Love…~” He said one day. Your eyes widening and your brows raising. Marriage..? With Apollon? You definitely didn’t take him for the ‘setting down’ type.

🎵- You smiled softly and told him as much as you loved him and how you adored him, you thought it would be best to wait a few more months. That led the god of sunlight to pout like a child.

☀️- He didn’t understand. If you loved him, why wouldn’t you marry him? Sure he isn’t really known to have anything beyond lovers but he was serious about this. But for now he dropped it and nodded. You would smile at him and place a sweet kiss on his lips that made him melt.

🎵- But if you honestly thought Apollon would quit there then you’re wrong. It wasn’t fair. He deserved to have you for eternity. You were his and he was yours. He couldn’t allow another partner to slip through his fingers like this..no..he couldn’t..he wouldn’t.

☀️- He wanted you..he needed you. Just how the flowers needed the sun…so he did something..slightly drastic on his part…

🎵- He carried you to Olympus while you were asleep. Was it smart? He thought so…and he hoped you would think so too. This way you both could be together forever and you’d be safe from harm and any mortal disease.

☀️- When you awoke, you found yourself in a room that wasn’t your own ..the bed was way more comfortable than your own and the designs and art were..ancient to say the least.

🎵- Before you could fully process what was going on, Apollo appeared and brought you into his arms. Oh..now you have an idea of what was happening.

☀️- “Ah, my Love..don’t be mad but I did you the courtesy of moving you in with me..” He started..his voice soft yet a hint of excitement laced his voice along with something darker as he stroked your hair..

🎵- “After all- you did technically day you wanted to spend more time together before we got married. So what better way to do that than living together?” He asked. It was obviously rhetorical, he was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke. Meanwhile you were just in shock..you wanted to argue and protest- saying that this is not what you meant but he promptly shut you up with a firm kiss to the lips.

☀️- You felt your breath hitch in your throat..this kiss felt different from the ones you usually shared with him. This one felt more forceful and possessive. As if he was trying to claim you.. after what felt like an eternity he finally pulled away..his gaze now softer as he stroked your cheek.

🎵- “You need not worry, Dearest…I am all that you need. No one else deserves to have you..only me. We deserve to be together.” The golden haired god spoke. His voice having a slight purr to it as he nuzzled your neck, a shiver went down your spine at the feeling. “And I won’t let anything or anyone stop us from being together….unlike the others…I will have you for eternity…~”

Author note: Oof- sorry this took so long. Trying to pace myself here so I’m not rushing and there’s more quality than quantity. But I appreciate all the love and the requests. I promise to get to them all!💕

#greek mythology #mythology #greek mythology au #modern au #yandere greek gods #yandere apollo #yandere #yandere greek mythology #yandere headcanons #yandere apollo x reader #phoebus apollo #apollo x reader #apollon #gn reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x reader

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saphronethaleph · 5 hours ago

Text

Galaxy Done Quick

“If we’re going to stop Palpatine’s plan, we need to start where the trail went cold,” Poe said, as the Falcon rose into the sky. “That means going to Pasana.”

Finn and Rey exchanged glances.

“DaggerSkip?” Finn asked.

“Yeah, that’s the play,” Rey agreed, reaching over and inputting coordinates to the nav computer.

“What’s a dagger skip?” Poe asked, confused. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It’s a sequence break,” Rey told him, as the Falcon turned to face the Endor system. “Look, if there’s anything to find that the Emperor didn’t intend to be lost it’s going to be where the second Death Star crashed down, right?”

Finn helpfully reached over and pushed the hyperdrive lever.

“I guess, but – hey!” Poe objected. “Don’t we need to go to Pasana?”

“No, we don’t need to go to Pasana,” Finn replied. “We do this, we skip Pasana and Kijimi, and as a bonus we don’t need to wipe C-3PO’s memory, either.”

“I beg your pardon?” C-3PO asked.

“Don’t worry, we’re not doing that,” Rey said, which was presumably supposed to be reassuring. “The Kef Bir transition isn’t state based, so we can just go there and get things going.”

Poe looked at his friends, then at C-3PO. “...should I understand any of this? You understand all languages, right?”

“I can certainly translate most of them, sir,” C-3PO told him. “However, as I’m sure my counterpart could inform you, being able to translate a language doesn’t mean you have the least idea what is going on.”

“So… explain to me why we aren’t helping Rey?” Poe said, as Finn adjusted his electrobinoculars.

“It’s not a two person level,” Finn replied, scanning. “Okay, hold on… yeah, there we go.”

“You can see her?” Poe asked.

“Nope,” Finn replied. “But I can see half the fight arena.”

Poe groaned.

“You’re not making any sense,” he complained.

Finn shrugged, then passed Poe a second set of binoculars. “If you want to see, you can look… about halfway up that spire there.”

Poe examined the electrobinoculars, then Finn’s pair.

“...these are mine,” he said. “And so are the ones you’re using. How…?”

“Oh, yeah, that was done during the transition,” Finn shrugged. “Dupe glitch. Anyway, watch, this is where we find out if we’re on pace.”

Mystified, Poe put the electrobinoculars to his eyes, and focused them where Finn had told him.

Then he saw Rey… wielding a red lightsaber with two blades connected by a hinge?

“What the-?” he yelped, then saw another Rey, this one wielding a green saberstaff. “Where did that come from?”

“Oh, it makes the trick easier,” Finn shrugged, as green-weapon Rey backflipped up to the top of a spike of twisted metal, and red-weapon Rey jumped up to attack her.

Green-weapon Rey blocked the attack, stepping to the side, and red-weapon Rey fell in the sea.

“All right!” Finn declared. “First time! QuickRey is one of the hardest bits of this, that’s great!”

Poe tried not to decide too visibly that he wasn’t getting any answers.

“So… uh,” he began. “What do we do now?”

“Oh, yeah, we need to prep the Falcon for takeoff,” Finn said. “Don’t worry, Rey’s taking a different ship, we don’t need to wait for her.”

He turned, heading for the ship, and Poe looked back and forth between the smashed-up Death Star and Finn before following in some confusion.

The Falcon’s systems were coming rapidly online, and Poe was helping Chewie check the motivator, when there was a muffled curse from outside.

“Huh?” Poe asked, before looking towards the ramp.

And did a double take.

Because Kylo Ren was striding up the ramp, but instead of that weird mask he looked very confused.

“What is happening?” he demanded.

“What is – what are you doing on here?” Poe asked, snatching his blaster up – not that it would do any good. “Finn!”

“It’s okay!” Finn called back from the cockpit.

“It is not!” Poe and Kylo said at the same time, then exchanged a mutually offended look.

“There’s some flags that won’t trigger if he doesn’t make it to Exegol, okay?” Finn said. “So, yeah, this is quicker than any of the other options!”

Poe felt very confused.

“What I want to know is what happened!” Kylo said. “Because Rey backflipped past me and suddenly I didn’t have my lightsaber any more and I’m now no longer in thrall to the Dark Side!”

“Yeah, that’s called SoloSkip,” Finn said, apparently expecting that to help. “See, the redemption cutscene trigger is different from the redemption trigger, and it saves a few minutes to hit just one of them. Rey is really killing it, this is great… speaking of which, hey, Ben?”

“Yes?” Ben Solo said, because apparently that was his name again now.

“Mind setting the course for Exegol?” Finn asked. “Normally we’d need to wait until Rey got there, but you have the course so you can just plug it in.”

Ben shot a look at Poe.

“Do you have any idea what he’s going on about?” the maybe-ex-Ren said.

“Not since this morning,” Poe replied. “Just smile and nod, I guess…”

“I knew you would come here… my granddaughter,” Sheev Palpatine said, smirking and chuckling darkly. “Approach me.”

Rey approached him.

“You know, I only just realized it,” she said, thoughtfully. “But this routing skips any of the places where I’d find that out.”

Sheev worried for a moment if his granddaughter had somehow inherited being senile, or something.

“...it matters not,” he decided. “Come, embrace your destiny. You are a Palpatine, and you are the heir to the Sith – the heir to the Empire! Strike me down or take your place, it matters not, a Palpatine shall sit on the throne of the Empire!”

Rey did not seem to be listening to him, and Sheev scowled.

“Pay attention!” he said. “What are you mumbling to yourself, girl?”

“And…” Rey said, dragging the word out. “Switch to in-engine is… now.”

She promptly dove to the floor, and Sheev had enough time to wonder why before the Millennium Falcon fell through the opening in the ceiling and landed on him, engines-first.

He didn’t have time to wonder about anything else.

“And time!” Finn declared, as something went skoom underneath the Falcon.

Chewbacca growled, then everyone clutched for the nearest handhold as the Falcon swung through a ninety-degree angle from vertical to horizontal and the landing gear slammed down on the chamber floor with a bone-shaking crash.

Something in the hyperdrive went crunch.

“...what,” Poe began. “The kark. Was that.”

Finn shrugged. “It’s one of the weaknesses of the Empire. The final boss isn’t immune to fall damage.”

#star wars #palpatine #another bad day for palps #rey #finn #poe dameron #ben solo #speedrunning

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