#I’m getting an orange 🍊

[thegalaxykatsworld]

Waiting for a kitten is like waiting for a baby to arrive like I’m looking at cat stuff, litter boxes, toys cute little hats, cat beds, cat scratch post and kitten chow or smth 😭😭💜

We just neeeeeed to move already 😭 I can’t wait for my little miss chilli

[iammissingautumn]

not to be alterous but i was reading a post about someone’s experiences with differences between platonic and alterous feelings and it was so eye opening. I am so fully aplatonic it’s crazy, all of my friends i have different ways of being like. attracted to them alterously but it’s so nice to read something that continues to be confirmation yeah. I’m just alterous. No romance. No platonics. If I consider us friends, especially for awhile, I probably have such an interest in u and I really have never lied when I said I would date my my friends. Because people who are like that are like whoever i would choose to live my life with.

[watchyourbuck]

heyy! huh? 🫴 | 👌you 👌 are 👌 late | 🚶🏽‍♂️ had to drop Christopher at his cousins 🚶🏽‍♂️| oooh sliders 🫳🥪 | AH AH 👋🖐️ no! | 😒 you didn’t just do that | 👌 we are waiting 👌 until chimney 👌 gets here 👌 | 🙎🏽 can we at least have drinks? 🤨 | 🫱 not the champagne 🫱 | 🚶🏽‍♂️| heyyyy ✋🤙 | heyyy 🙏 hey 🥰 | hey 🤗 glad you could make it 🫂 | of course ☺️ | 🙅🏽 didnt know you could bring a date 👀 to a bachelor party 👀 | hey i knew chimney 🧑🏻‍🚒 before he was chimney🧯👉 | 🤷🏽 | ✋ also ✋ he’s not officially my date until the wedding tomorrow 🤌 | 👌 tonight 👌 is about 👌 chimney 👌 | 🤨 but he’s wedding… is about you?🫵 | 😮 | 👀 | 👉 you want a drink? | orange juice 🍊🧃 I’m on stand by | 😡🤏 what is this? | I told you 🤨 it’s 80’s theme | 😐they had Henleys in the 80’s 😐 | who are you guys are supposed to be? 🤨 wedding singer? | 🫳🍹 | Wedding Singer’s 90’s 🥱 | Crockett & Tubbs 🕺🏻 Miami Vice? 🙄 | ooh 😲| 🙂‍↕️ | which one’s Crockett? 😜| 🙋🏽‍♂️I am! 💁🏼‍♂️ 😐

[hazybisou]

❛ WHAT ONCE WAS ❜

🍊💌 and we both wanna say i’m sorry

pairing ; fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary ; it’s been 1 year and a half since the breakup. of course they’ve both changed since that night. quinn just never expected to see her doing the one thing that reminded him of her.

authors note ; hi. so uh long time no see. honestly idk what came over me but like i js completely abandoned you guys. aside from that i’ve been busy with school and mid terms were what took up most of my time. but i’m back👌(for now at least). hopefully you enjoy this. anyways this has been on my mind for a while now and like i had get it out: orange peel theory!!! idk if i would consider this angsty or not but you decide. enjoy! <3

it was extremely hot. the windows were open, letting in a slight breeze. he was laying on the couch in front of a fan. he laid there eyes closed. there was something about the heat that made him want to close his eyes and let the day get away from him.

slowly but surely his eyelids began to shut. all of a sudden he heard a pair of keys jingle, his head lifting off the couch as he watched her figure come into view. “hey, how was work?” he asked y/n who smiled at him. she toed off her shoes before making her way over to quinn.

he opened his arms as he felt her climb onto of him, head laying on his chest. she sighed, “it was good, surprisingly,” she closed her eyes, “how was you day?”

“it’s was fine. went out, ran some errands, bought some groceries.” he mumbled as he dug his face into her hair. “speaking of groceries, i got you what you’ve been asking for this whole week.”

her head lifted up from his chest. “oranges?” he nodded and she squealed. “oh, how i love you.” she began to pepper his face with kisses.

he chuckled and held her closer. “i love you too.” he pressed a peck to her lips.

he began to sit up with y/n in his arms as she climbed off of him and onto the couch. he stood up and she let out a yelp as she felt his arms wrap around her thighs and waist, picking her up bridal style. she tucked her head into his chest as he carried her towards the kitchen.

“where we goin’?” she whispered.

“kitchen.”

“why?” she lifted her head off of his chest.

he smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “im a little hungry.”

he turned walked towards the counter and set her down, y/n going to sit on one of the barstool. her eyes were trained on quinn who began to heat up leftovers from the previous night. her eyes suddenly caught the sight of the color orange. she smiled and reached out to grab the fruit.

y/n held it in her hands trying to peel it. as much as she loved having oranges available, she hated the hassle of having to take the peel off, especially with her manicured nails.

“quinny..” she trailed off. he turned around and hummed. she held the orange up with a small smile on here face. “open it, please?”

he shook his head and smiled before grabbing it out of her hands, complaining her request. one the last bit of the orange peel was off, he grabbed a couple of pieces for himself.

“quinn!” she whined but nonetheless took the orange back as he handed off the fruit to her.

he chuckled. “you asked for something, you pay the price.” he held the slices up. “this the price.”

she rolled his eyes but smiled at him and he grinned before leaning across the counter, cupping her face in his hands. he leaned down slightly as his lips found hers. he pulled away for a second before going in once more, this one with a lot more passion.

he pulled away and looked at her. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

he hated it.

he hated this feeling he felt in his chest. was he sad? no. was he happy? definitely not. it was complicated, he didn’t know what he was feeling. all he could do was watch.

quinn was angry. angry at himself, at her. no..he could never be angry with or at her—only himself. he let her slip away and didn’t make the effort to bring her back.

quinn sat there across the room, watching her. watching as her head was thrown back, laughter coming out of her lips. she didn’t even realize it. he wanted to laugh. yet he couldn’t.

he still loved her.

after almost 2 years, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. she was like a plague. stuck in his mind and heart forever. he never saw her after that day. not a single text was sent. not a peep.

she had completely vanished from his life.

or, at least he thought she had.

yet there she was right in front of his eyes, sitting at a table with two other girls.

he looked down towards her hands and watch as her nail dug into the piece of fruit. she slowly began to peel it off. she was so delicate with it. she always was. with everything.

he watched as she peeled it all off completely before taking the trash to the garbage can. she took a piece and put it into her mouth.

he laughed.

he. laughed.

she had done it.

he knew she didn’t need him anymore. she never did. she just needed to learn how. and she did.

i hate this. good night. isn’t 🙅‍♀️ proofread 🙅‍♀️why tf do i only write at night when ik i’m tired and running on 2 hours of sleep???

[sattlersquarry]

orange juice (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU) Steve's world changes in the worst way when he loses you. He struggles to move on...but he learns he might not have to when he miraculously gets a second chance with you.

Word Count: ~8k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, death, grief, alcoholism, mentions of sex, mention of alcohol poisoning, and an allusion to a suicide attempt (in a miscommunication!!!! no one actually tried). the reader is presumed dead after the events of season 4. lots of angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending bc if I ever wrote something without a happy ending my identity has been stolen. inspired by "orange juice" by noah kahan with some other references to his music sprinkled throughout.

a/n: i've been bouncing between this and bloom for the past few months and they are two very different fics tonally, but i hope you enjoy. please let me know if i missed any warnings because this one is kind of heavy.

🍊🍊🍊

ORANGE JUICE

MAY 1986

A ringing phone rouses Steve from a restless sleep.

A near-empty bottle of gin rests on the floor by his bed. He doesn’t remember drinking it, nor does he remember anything else from last night.

It’s been two months since you died. Steve’s not taking it well. 

That horrible day, Steve, Nancy, and Robin ran from the Creel House and found Eddie and Dustin sobbing over you, your eyes lifeless and the wounds on your abdomen weeping.

I’m so s-sorry, Steve, Dustin had said through sobs. W-we tried to save her!

An aftershock of the initial gate-opening earthquake caused panic amongst their group. Steve wanted to carry your body back to the real world for a proper burial, but there was no time before the aftershock got much too intense. Dustin and Robin refused to leave the Upside Down without him. He wasn’t going to let them get hurt, so despite the fact it broke his soul in half to do so, he allowed his friends to drag him back to the gate in the Upside Down’s version of the Munson trailer, leaving you behind.

When the dust settled and reality set in that Steve was going to have to move on without you, grief overtook him. He turned to alcohol as a welcome distraction. He’s been consistently ignoring Robin’s desperate pleas for him to talk to a professional, to drink less, to try and really process his pain.

Steve should listen, but he won’t. Instead, he’ll grieve. He’ll wallow. He’d rather wither away into nothing than work on bettering himself, because you died and that’s not fair. To you, to him. To everyone who loves you.

Steve groans, a deep rumbling thing from deep in chest, as he stretches and rubs sleep out of his eyes. He blindly reaches for the phone on his nightstand.

“Hello?” he mumbles.

“Steve, hey.”

Steve sits up like a rocket at the tremble in Robin’s voice.

“Robin? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean, yes! But no. Sorry, I just—can you come to Hopper’s?”

“What is it?” Steve asks. He staggers to his feet, getting tangled in the phone cord. “Is it Vecna? Shit, who did he take?”

“No one!” Robin says, voice way too high to be believable. “Please just come over when you can.”

Steve drives over to their basecamp at Hopper’s cabin, a million bad scenarios racing through his head. What if Vecna cursed Dustin? Or Nancy, or any of the others?

What if somehow he got El, and the Hawkins’ team was really doomed?

It takes Steve almost forty minutes to get to Hopper’s, due to earthquake damage and military roadblocks all over town. He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before he can.

Joyce smiles at him, but her eyes are mournful.

“Hi, Steve,” she says warmly. “Please, come inside.”

This isn’t what Steve expected. Hopper, El, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin are sitting on various chairs and couches in the cabin’s main room. Usually, it’s frantic around here: everyone running around with mixtapes, weapons, and crudely drawn maps of the town with markings where the most frequent monster attacks are. It’s never this still.

When Steve and Joyce walk in, everyone looks at him, sympathy in their eyes.

Steve’s first thought: Shit, is this an intervention?

Before he can ask, Hopper says: “The gates are closed, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth twists into a frown, heart pounding in his chest. That wasn’t the plan.

“Wait, what? How?”

“We’re not sure,” Joyce says. “But Will—”

“I can’t feel Vecna anymore,” Will explains. “And El checked this morning, and she found Vecna in the Void and…”

“He’s gone,” El says quietly. “Dead. Finally.”

Steve sinks onto a couch cushion. That should be good news. Steve should be celebrating, toasting to the death of the bastard that ruined his life and took you away by way of the demobats. But—

“We were supposed to go back,” Steve says. The back of his throat burns when he swallows hard, trying to choke down the sensation of nausea that’s either from his hangover or his panic. Or both. “We were going to go back and get Y/N’s body.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Jonathan says, looking down at his feet.

Steve whirls to Hopper, eyes blazing with a flash of anger that never seems to leave him these days.

“You promised!” he yells. “You promised that we’d go back for her!”

“I know,” Hopper says, keeping his voice even. “But something—or someone—killed Vecna in the Upside Down and the gates closed. The fight is done. It’s over.”

Steve’s lip wobbles. He won’t cry in front of them. He won’t. But his head spins.

“What am I going to tell her parents?” Steve says, voice cracking.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Steve,” Nancy says. She reaches a hand to touch his shoulder and Steve bats it away. “Steve—”

“This is such bullshit,” Steve snaps, turning to Hopper again. “If you had let me go back down there before, I could have brought her body back. We could’ve given her a proper funeral. Given her parents closure! But you made me wait!”

“It was the right choice,” Hopper says firmly. “I didn’t want to invoke another Vecna attack on Hawkins until we were ready to fight.”

“Maybe there’s a gate that we missed and—”

“We checked the gates this morning,” Robin says softly. “They’re all closed.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But it’s over.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He storms out of the cabin, ignoring Robin’s pleas to come back, to not be alone right now. Steve drives back home, not without stopping at the liquor store first and loading up on various spirits to numb the pain.

Over the next week, you go from declared missing to officially declared dead. Steve can’t let on to your parents that he had known for months, and Hopper doesn’t want him to tell them the truth about Vecna, demobats, and the Upside Down. It kills Steve to lie to their faces, to attend the funeral where they bury an empty casket, knowing what he knows. Knowing that your body is trapped in another dimension. Dead and alone.

🍊🍊🍊

NOVEMBER 1986

“Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

Robin’s words echo in Steve’s mind hours after she’s fallen asleep in the uncomfortable armchair next to his hospital bed.

An overindulgence forced Steve to spend his Thanksgiving in a hospital—not that he had any plans with his family to get ruined anyway. Although he had been invited to Thanksgiving with the Buckleys, Wheelers, Hopper-Byerses, Sinclairs, Hendersons, Mayfields, and Munsons, Steve declined every invitation. He resigned himself to a holiday alone without you, got heavy handed with a bottle of whiskey, and passed out in the neighbor’s lawn.

When he awoke, he was in the hospital. Joyce and Robin were there, the former fretting over him and the latter chewing him out for being such a dingus and scaring her so badly on a holiday.

Like a broken record in his head of the worst song Steve’s ever heard: Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this.

Robin didn’t say it to be mean. She said it to get him to wake up. To cool it with the drinking, because if he kept going at the rate he was going, he’d meet a worse fate than a pumped stomach.

Joyce quietly reenters the room and smiles.

“Oh, you’re still up!” she says. “I thought for sure you’d try to get some sleep.”

Steve shrugs.

“I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up.”

Joyce settles on the chair next to Robin’s, ignoring the sleeping girl’s loud snores.

“When I can’t stop replaying the past in my mind,” Joyce says, “I try to think about my future instead. What are my aspirations and goals? What can I do differently to achieve them?”

Steve chews his bottom lip.

“Is it bad if I have no goals?” he says, feeling quite sorry for himself.

“Why do you think that is?” Joyce asks gently.

Steve shrugs again, before rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent the past 3 years on edge thinking I’m going to get killed at any minute?”

Steve barks out a hollow laugh. “Or maybe it’s because 2 years ago I met someone who turned my life completely around, and she did get killed, and I wasn’t there to save her or be with her when she died. And I couldn’t give her or her parents a proper end and every time I close my eyes, I see her laying there. And I don’t know what my future looks like without her. I don’t even think I want one.”

Steve hates crying in front of other people. But when Joyce wraps an arm around his shoulders, he breaks down.

“It’s going to be all right, Steve,” she says. She squeezes him a little tighter. “I know it’s hard moving on from loss, but you do have a future. You have so many people that love you and are going to help you figure it out. And Y/N would want you to keep going. She’d want you to go off and do wonderful things.”

Joyce was right. If roles were reversed, Steve would want you to keep going without him. Not waste away and drink yourself into a coma.

Steve’s life is changing. And despite everything, things might be looking up.

🍊🍊🍊

FEBRUARY 1987

There is a beautiful girl in Steve’s bed and she’s touching him all the ways he likes to be touched—but he can’t even enjoy it because she’s not you.

He tries to clear his mind of all distraction. The girl with him—Molly—is very, very hot. And the feeling of her hands all over him should be sufficient to keep him focused on the moment. But his mind keeps wandering to you.

You were the last person he was truly intimate with. Sure, he’s kissed girls at parties. But that’s different than what’s happening now. Different than being in bed with Molly and her wandering hands, her gentle touches, her salacious whispers.

Steve thinks maybe he’s finally done it. Found a girl that can help him move on from you, the girl to help him feel whole again. To not feel so alone.

But then, overcome with sensation, Steve makes the worst possible faux pas in bed: he moans the wrong name.

Molly ceases kissing him.

“What did you just call me?” she asks, sitting up suddenly with narrowed eyes.

Steve sits up as well, resting against his headboard and floundering for a response that won’t make him sound like a douchebag.

“I just, uh, well—”

“Who is she?” Molly asks. She widens her eyes in horror. “Oh my god, are you seeing someone else? Am I ‘the other woman’?!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Steve rushes to assure her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Caught up in the moment thinking of someone else when I was about to blow you!” Molly snaps. She stomps off the bed and grumbles as she pulls her jeans and sweatshirt back on.

“Wait, hold on!” Steve says. He struggles to put a pair of sweatpants on, hopping around frantically one-footed to pull them up as Molly grabs her purse and yanks open Steve’s bedroom door. “Please don’t leave, Y/N—ah, Molly!”

“Unbelievable!” Molly scoffs as she stomps down the staircase of the townhome Steve shares with three other students at the University of Indiana.

Molly gets to the front door but stops, whipping around to face Steve as he catches up to her.

“Who is she?” she demands. “An ex-girlfriend?”

“In a sense, yeah, but—”

“If you’re still so hung up on her, maybe you should ask her to blow you instead!”

Steve thinks about being an asshole. About letting the anger that simmers in his bloodstream 24/7 rear its ugly head. About snapping at Molly, telling her that yeah, totally, he’d love to get a blowjob from a corpse stuck in an alternate dimension.

But then Molly would feel bad and give him the pitying look Steve hates. So instead, he says, “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you in class.”

Molly huffs before giving Steve’s cheek a sharp smack! He doesn’t wince. Upset at his lack of reaction, Molly storms out.

Just as well. Remembering how the love of his life is dead is a real mood killer.

Steve rubs his forehead and heads to the kitchen. He eyes the six pack in the fridge. He hasn’t touched alcohol in three months. The temptation causes his hand to graze a beer can, but he quickly pivots to a cartoon of orange juice.

He chugs the drink before stalking up the steps to his room. Steve drops to his knees and blindly reaches in the dusty space under his bed. He grips the corner of a box and drags it to the middle of the floor.

Once opened, two black button eyes stare back up at Steve. It’s Lambchop, a stuffed animal lamb that your parents gave him. After your parents held a small funeral and buried that empty casket, they gave Steve this box of your things.

Lambchop here was her favorite toy, your mother had said at the time, eyes glistening with tears. She always hoped to pass it on to her own children one day. I think she’d want you to have it.

Steve thanked your mother and father, gave his condolences, went home, drank enough whiskey to fell a horse, and passed out.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Steve climbs onto the bed and places the lamb on the pillow next to him. It’s one of few connections to you that he has left, so he’ll cherish it, even if it’s a little silly.

What Steve doesn’t realize is that in another dimension, the very person he’s yearning for lays in the version of her bedroom created by the Upside Down, holds a dirty version of Lambchop, and yearns for Steve right back.

🍊🍊🍊

MAY 1987

You and Steve used to have your futures mapped out: start at U of I together in fall of ’86. Move in together after your freshman year of college. Get engaged by fall of ’89, married in fall of ’90, and have two kids by ’95. Spend the rest of your lives together, happy and healthy, with the horrors of Hawkins far behind you.

That was before Steve’s world changed in the worst way. Before you died in the Upside Down, when you drew the bats away from the gate. You were a hero, trying to keep them from flying into your version of Hawkins and destroying it.

Steve struggled for a long time. He’s still struggling, but in a slightly better place.

He’s sober six months now. He thinks of you often, but he tries to focus less on how he desperately misses you and more on how you wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life miserable and drunk.

But he does miss you so, so desperately. And he would give anything to have you back.

It hurts being reminded of you, so Steve stays away from Hawkins. But he can’t say no when Mrs. Henderson invites him to Dustin’s sweet sixteen birthday party, so he makes the trek back.

“Steve!” Mrs. Henderson coos, opening the front door with a beaming smile. “Welcome!”

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve says. She pulls him into a hug and he adds, “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s so lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Henderson says. She leads Steve through the house. “Please, come in! You can put Dusty-Bun’s gift on the dining room table. I have strawberry wine in the kitchen—ah, and orange juice, or lemonade. It’s yours if you want it!”

Mrs. Henderson pivoted to juice awfully fast. She must have found out about Steve’s Thanksgiving Break bender. Steve tamps down the feeling of shame worming its way through his mind and body, instead offering her another small smile before turning to the dining room to drop off Dustin’s gift.

Dustin and the rest of the Hellfire Club are in the den, playing a one-shot campaign that Eddie planned. When Dustin sees Steve, his face lights up.

“Steve! You made it!” he says, rushing over and giving him a bear hug.

“Hey buddy,” Steve says, hugging him back. “Happy birthday, Henderson.”

Dustin grins, and it lifts Steve’s mood immensely.

Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, and Erica greet him next, along with Eddie and his Corroded Coffin buddies. Eddie can barely look Steve in the eye, guilt from not being able to save you eating away at him. Steve’s told him multiple times not to feel bad about it—he knows Eddie and Dustin tried their best.

“Want to join the campaign?” Dustin asks Steve.

“Oh, I don’t know how to play,” Steve says. “I’ll just watch, okay bud?”

A short while later, Robin arrives. Once the campaign ends, Mrs. Henderson brings out the cake, and then gifts are opened.

“He looks really happy, huh?” Robin whispers to Steve, nudging him gently with her elbow.

Steve nods with a smile. Dustin took your death really hard—the two of you had been close ever since you helped him, Steve, Lucas, and Max fight the demodogs in the junkyard. Seeing Dustin smiling and laughing with his closest friends on his birthday makes Steve really, really happy.

Still, Steve’s heart aches. You should be here. You should be smiling as Dustin opens his gifts. You should be getting cake frosting on your nose, playing along with the campaign although you have no clue what’s going on.

Ice grips Steve’s chest. He gets a flashback of you lying on the cold ground, unmoving, and—

“You okay?” Robin whispers, brow furrowed. How the hell can she tell that he’s upset? It’s frightening how observant she is.

“Fine,” Steve says, throat tightening. He’s not. But he isn’t going to let his grief ruin Dustin’s big day.

At the end of the night, Dustin asks Steve when he’ll be back to visit again.

“My summer classes end in August,” Steve says. “I’ll come by then. Maybe we can hit the pool?”

Dustin seems disappointed that it’ll be a while before he sees Steve again, but he doesn’t push.

However, Steve ends up coming back to Hawkins much sooner. Three weeks after Dustin’s birthday party, Eleven calls Steve and tells him something that makes his heart stop:

“Steve, it’s about Y/N.” 

🍊🍊🍊

Steve is a frantic mess.

He sits in the Byers-Hopper basement, knee bouncing as he intently watches El try to find you in the Void again.

El had told him that she’d sometimes look for you in the Void, hoping to give him some semblance of closure. However, she claims that a few hours ago, she finally found you for the first time and saw you not as a corpse, but fully alive. It’s a hope that Steve didn’t dare hold onto before, not until now.

As soon as she called, Steve got in his car and drove to Hawkins, going ten over the speed limit the whole time. He picked up Robin and Nancy along the way to El, Will, and Jonathan’s, and (unfortunately) Mike tagged along.

“Do you see her?” Steve asks, voice cracking.

“No talking, please,” El says, tightening her blindfold.

Steve purses his lips. Will gives him an apologetic smile and Robin squeezes his arm to offer a semblance of comfort. Jonathan looks between Steve and El, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I see her,” El whispers after a few minutes.

Nancy gasps. Mike’s eyes widen. Steve staggers to his feet.

“She’s okay?” Steve asks. “Where is she?!”

“I can’t tell,” El says. “But she’s holding a small, white fuzzy animal. Wait, is it dead?”

“Lambchop,” Steve says.

“Come again?” Nancy asks.

“Lambchop is her favorite stuffed animal,” Steve explains. His heart pounds in his chest at the realization that holy shit, you really are alive. “She must be in the Upside Down version of her house.”

“Y/N!” El calls. “Y/N!”

After a few more minutes of calling to you, El pulls off the blindfold and wipes her nosebleed away.

“She can’t hear me,” El says with a sigh.

“Maybe because the gates are closed,” Nancy offers.

“But if you open another gate,” Steve says, “we can get back through and find her. Right?”

“Hold on a minute,” Jonathan says, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “Is that such a good idea?”

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Is it such a good idea to save my girlfriend’s life? Yeah, I think so, Byers.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

“Relax?” Steve says, voice rising in volume with every word. “Relax?! You want me to relax? What about this fucked-up situation is relaxing! My girlfriend has been stuck in literal hell for over a fucking year! We’re going to rescue her, no matter what!”

“But opening a new gate could have major repercussions!” Mike protests.

“Screw the repercussions,” Steve snaps, glowering. “We can’t just leave Y/N down there to rot!”

“None of us want to do that, Steve,” Nancy says, keeping her voice level and calm. “But what if this is a trick from Vecna?”

“It’s not,” Will says. “If it was, I would feel his presence. I don’t anymore.”

“Boom!” Robin says, snapping her fingers. “If our human monster detector doesn’t sense any bad vibes, then we should be good to proceed.”

“Maybe we should ask El what she wants to do before we make any plans to open new gates,” Jonathan points out.

“Exactly,” Mike says. “El, what do you want to do?”

El looks down at her lap, before looking up. She locks eyes with Steve.

“I’ll do it. I’ll open the gate.”

Relief floods Steve’s whole being. He feels lighter. More hopeful than he has in a long time. But it all comes crashing down when—

“That’s not happening.”

The group turns to see Hopper and Joyce on the basement steps. Joyce looks worried, face twisted into a frown. Hopper looks angry, with his brow furrowed.

“But Dad—” El says.

“No buts,” Hopper says. “You are forbidden to open a new gate. You hear me?”

Joyce places a hand on her husband’s shoulder and says, “Now, Hop…”

Steve interrupts, walking over to the older man with a wild, panicked look in his eyes. “Hopper, please. Y/N is still alive in the Upside Down. We just need one gate so I can go through and bring her back. Please.” Hopper fixes Steve with a sorrowful stare, the smallest bit of guilt etched on his features. Still, he remains steadfast.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hopper says. “I’m not putting my daughter at risk. She won’t do it.”

El, Robin, and Will all try to convince Hopper otherwise, their arguments overlapping into a cacophony. Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan share uneasy looks.

Steve can’t listen to this anymore. He quietly excuses himself, darting past Hopper up the steps and stepping into the backyard.

He sinks on the porch stoop and stares off into the quiet, cool night. He understands Hopper’s reasoning, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s spent over a year mourning you, only to discover he might be able to get you back—for that hope to be dashed as quickly as it blossomed.

Steve picks a point in the tree line and focuses on it, putting all his energy into watching it so he doesn’t break down or cause any more of a scene than he already has.

He hears the squeak of the back door and Robin’s tentative, “Hey, how you doing?”

Steve shrugs absentmindedly, continuing to stare. Robin lowers herself onto the stoop next to him.

For a few blissful minutes, she doesn’t speak. She just rests her head on his shoulder and lets him stew in silence.

The spell is broken when she blurts out, “You’re not going to break your sobriety, are you?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin,” Steve grumbles, nudging her slightly so she’ll sit up. “You don’t have to ask that every time I’m in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” she says. She picks at her fingernails. “Sorry. I just worry about you, you know?”

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I worry about you too.”

“Me?” Robin says. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Steve eyes the way her hands fidget. Before he can say anything, she blurts out, “I just don’t want a repeat of Thanksgiving. I mean, you almost died of alcohol poisoning. They pumped your stomach!”

“I know. I was there.”

“No!” Robin snaps, sounding awfully harsh despite the tears welling in her eyes. It breaks Steve’s heart to see. “You were unconscious! And it was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, including all the torture and monsters, because I thought I was going to lose another best friend. I already lost Y/N. I can’t lose you too.”

She sniffles and Steve pulls her in for a hug. He can’t stop a few stray tears from falling down his own face as well.

“You won’t lose me,” Steve says, voice thick. “I promise, Robin. I’m not going to do that again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles, hugging him tighter. “I love you, dingus.”

“I love you, Rob.”

“That’s not fair,” Robin says, pulling away and wiping her tears on her sleeve. “You have to call me a mean nickname back or I just look like an asshole.”

Steve barks out a laugh and shakes his head.

“You are an asshole.”

“Perfect,” Robin says with a small smile. “Now we’re equally jerks. Just the way I like it.”

The back door opens and Will steps out.

“Hopper changed his mind!” he says with a grin.

Hope pumps like blood through Steve’s cold, shrunken heart. He’s going to see you again. Fuck, he’s going to see you again.

🍊🍊🍊

The next day, the group stands in the basement once more, this time making their plan for a rescue mission. Mike squealed to Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, and Max about what’s going on, and they all showed up wanting to help too.

“Not happening!” Hopper barks, a fierce look on his face. “New rule: you have to be 18 to come along.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, thrilled that he gets to come and try to make things right after losing you the first time. The younger teens grumble.

“But El is going!” Dustin complains.

“El is going to stay in the Lab with Joyce,” Hopper says. “She’ll open the gate for us and wait.”

“I can keep the gate open for one hour,” El says.

“That’s plenty of time to find Y/N!” Robin says brightly. “We already know she’s probably at her house.”

“And she lives close to Hawkins Lab,” Jonathan says, pointing to a map of Hawkins. “So we’ll be in and out.”

“It’ll be easy!” Eddie says.

“Don’t jinx it,” Hopper warns.

Nancy turns to Steve and pats his shoulder.

“You feeling good about this?” she asks quietly.

He nods. Although, truthfully, he’s terrified. If they come all this way, only for him to lose you again…he’s not sure he’d be able to handle that.

🍊🍊🍊

The Upside Down is not what Steve remembers.

The alternate dimension used to be dank and cold, like an endless winter’s night. Now with Vecna gone, it’s brighter, with a yellow sky and actual green foliage, not the moldy, dry shit from before. It seems less dangerous than last time.

No matter how much it’s changed, the thought that you’ve been here alone for over a year makes Steve’s blood run ice cold.

“This way!” Hopper barks, tracing his finger on his map of Hawkins and leading the group toward your house.

Jonathan and Nancy walk side-by-side with Hopper, glancing around at the tree lines constantly for any sign of danger. Eddie and Robin hang back, Steve walking slightly in front of them. He hears them whispering about something, but when he turns his head to try and listen, they quiet down.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what they’re worrying about: if they can’t find you, will Steve have another breakdown? Go on another bender? Would Steve even survive it?

Steve’s been wondering the same things himself. But for now, he stays positive, his optimism increasing tenfold when the six of them turn onto your street.

He can’t help but pick up speed, jogging past Hopper and causing the older man to snap, “Hey, stay behind me!”

Steve ignores his protests, shouting your name and pushing through the front door of your house.

He’s been here many, many times. He’s walked the pathway from your front door to your bedroom over and over again. Steve walks that path for the first time in over a year, charging up the steps and tuning out the concerned warnings from his friends.

He bursts into your bedroom, calling your name. He doesn’t see you, but maybe you hid when you heard the front door open. So he checks the closet, the ensuite bathroom, under the bed, to no avail.

Steve’s eyes sweep the space for any clues of your whereabouts. Most of the room seems untouched, except for your bed, where the sheets are rumpled and a grimy Lambchop the Stuffed Lamb sits primly on your pillow with her soft hooves crossed over her lap.

Steve picks up the toy, heart stuttering at the sight. You were sleeping here last night. You must have been. But where are you now?

“Steve!” Robin calls from down the hall, bringing him back to the present. “We found something!”

Steve gently places Lambchop back on the pillow—arranging her the way you always do, because anything else seems disrespectful—and heads back downstairs.

Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin are crowded around the kitchen table. On it is a sheet of paper with a rudimentary sketch of the town.

“Check it out,” Jonathan says. He traces his finger across the drawn lines. “It’s a record of where the gates originally opened.”

Sure enough, there are big stars drawn over Hawkins Lab, Eddie’s trailer, the road by the trailer park, Lover’s Lake, and the Creel House.

“That’s why she’s not here,” Nancy says. “She’s out searching for an opening.”

“We don’t have long,” Hopper barks, glancing at his watch with a grimace. “El can only keep the gate open for an hour. We have forty-one minutes to get back to the Lab.”

“We could split off into teams,” Nancy says. “Jonathan and I can go to Lover’s Lake.”

“Steve and I will hit the trailer park and the highway,” Robin adds. “Eddie and Hop, you can go to the Creel House.”

“We find Y/N,” Hopper says, “and we head back to the Lab. No wasting time. We move fast, we stay vigilant. Got it?”

The younger adults all nod and agree to stay on their walkies in case anyone needs to get in touch. Then, they split off to their destinations.

As Steve and Robin sprint toward the trailer park, Steve can’t stop panic from enveloping him head to toe. What if they’re too late? What if you’re dead—again? What if you don’t remember him somehow. What if—

“Look!” Robin says, throwing out an arm to stop Steve in his tracks. He skids to a stop and sees where she’s pointing.

Behind the closed curtains of the Munson trailer is the beam of a flashlight moving around. Steve’s heartbeat quickens.

“Okay,” she whispers as the duo slinks toward the trailer. “We need to think about this carefully, and make a plan to—wait, Steve!”

He charges into the trailer.

A figure flinches and whips around, hunting knife raised. Steve almost falls to his knees in shock at the sight. It’s really happening.

“Steve?” you whisper, voice cracking. He stands in front of you, hands raised and eyes flicking between your face and your knife. The corners of his eyes burn, tears starting to form.

He says your name, and the look on your face cracks his heart into seventeen pieces. He starts to step toward you, but—

“You’re not real,” you say quietly. “You can’t be.”

“No, I’m real!” Steve says. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Steve. We’re here to take you home.”

You step back, still pointing your weapon at him.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shout.

“Okay, okay!” Steve says. He steps back, slowly.

“Steve!” Robin shouts from outside. “What’s going on in—”

“Stay outside, Robin!” Steve yells, voice wavering as he eyes your knife.

“But—”

Steve swiftly locks the trailer door without turning away from you.

The two of you ignore Robin’s knocks and protests. Eventually, she gives up, and Steve hears the crackle of her walkie-talkie.

“You can’t be Steve,” you say, shaking your head frantically.

“I am,” Steve begs. “And I’ve missed you so much—”

“You can’t be Steve because there’s no way into the Upside Down!” you say. He notices your arm start to shake. “Trust me, I’ve checked and checked and checked and there’s no gates anymore. And since my Steve isn’t a corpse at the Creel House, I know Vecna didn’t kill him and he’s back in the real world. If you’re not Steve, who the hell are you?”

Steve swallows hard. The back of his throat tastes acidic and he feels desperation wrench its way through every cell in his body. When he imagined his reunion with you, he didn’t anticipate this conversation.

“El reopened a gate for us,” Steve explains patiently. “We thought you were dead. But El looked for you and saw you were still alive, so we came to rescue you.” He glances at his watch and his brows furrow. “But we don’t have a lot of time. We need to head back to the Lab because she can’t keep it open forever.”

“How can I trust you?” you say. “How do I know you aren’t a trick?!”

“I’m really me, I promise,” Steve says. He hesitates before stepping closer to you once more. This time, you don’t move away. “We’re safe now, because Vecna’s dead.”

“I know. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction.

“You what?”

“I had to,” you say. You shrug and look a little delirious. How much sleep have you gotten in the last year, Steve wonders. “Vecna brought me back. He would've flayed me and sent me to spy on and kill all of you if I didn’t kill him first.”

Steve almost falls over. The haunting fact that you had to fight Vecna alone makes his stomach turn.

The pained look on Steve’s face seems to shake something deep down in you. Any resolve you had crumbles. You heave out a sob, dropping the knife to the ground. Your knees buckle.

In seconds, Steve wraps you in his arms as you sink to the ground.

You cry, limp in his hold. Steve cries too, choking on encouraging words and apologies and everything he’s wanted to say to you since March 1986, when he thought he’d never speak to you again.

The door rattles. You startle and Steve holds you a little tighter.

“HARRINGTON!” Hopper barks. “Get a move on!”

“We have to go,” Steve says, urgent yet gentle. “We can talk more when we’re home. Okay?”

You nod, standing on unsteady legs.

Steve squeezes your hand before leading you out the door.

The whole rescue squad is out there, and you look wholly overwhelmed at seeing everyone after so long alone.

“No time for pleasantries,” Hopper says. “We’ve got less than twenty minutes to get through that gate.”

“Or it’s a slumber party at Y/N’s,” Eddie jokes. He playfully knocks his shoulder against yours and you gasp at the sudden contact. “Oh, sorry—”

“RUN!” Hopper yells, clapping his hands.

Everyone bolts toward the Lab. Steve and you run side-by-side, hands intertwined.

Shock envelops Steve’s senses, but he keeps running. The one thing racing through his mind is to get you back to safety.

The Lab’s gate is not the gaping maw it once was. It’s about the height of a minivan door, but its width is quite smaller—and slowly but surely shrinking.

El and Joyce stand on the gate’s other side, looking relieved to see everyone.

“Hurry!” Joyce says, waving you forward first. You hesitate, but Steve says, “We’re right behind you. Go on.”

You crawl through the gate and stumble to your feet on the right side of the universe. Steve would normally let everyone else go in front of him, but he wastes no time following behind you. Next comes Robin, then Jonathan and Nancy. Eddie and Hopper bring up the rear.

As soon as Hopper’s crawled through the gate, El drops her hand and it sews itself up—for the final time.

Steve and the others swarm you, all speaking too fast and asking a million questions. Joyce opens a first-aid kid and tries to sit you down and asses your various cuts and bruises. They hurt Steve to see.

“Look at her! She needs more than bandaids and alcohol wipes,” Eddie says, nodding in your direction.

“He’s right,” Jonathan says. “Mom, we need to take her to the hospital—”

“No!” you say. You stumble toward the staircase. “I need to go home. I need to see my parents, let them know I’m alive. How long have I been down there? I’ve been keeping track, and it has to be at least ten weeks, right?”

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. You look at him, eyes wild. “Y/N,” he says softly, “it’s been 15 months.”

That seems to be your final straw. Steve catches you as you pass out.

🍊🍊🍊

SIX HOURS LATER

While you get checked over by Dr. Owens and his people, Steve paces the hospital waiting room. Robin chews her thumbnail and watches the doors to the ER. Nancy and Jonathan bend their heads together and whisper, and Eddie attempts to distract Dustin and the other teenagers by juggling snacks from the vending machine.

After you fainted, Steve didn’t want to leave your side, but Hopper said everyone except himself and Joyce had to go home.

If our entire merry band shows up at Hawkins Mercy Hospital with a presumed-dead girl, it’ll look too damn suspicious, Hopper had said. Go home. Clean up. Wait three hours, and then you can come check on her. We’ll keep you updated.

In exactly 180 minutes, Steve and the others charge into the ER asking the nurse on duty about you.

“She’s still being looked over,” the nurse tells them. “Her parents and the Chief are with her now. You can wait over there and we’ll call you when she’s able to have visitors.”

Another 180 minutes go by. Now, everyone’s getting antsy. Steve has half a mind to charge into the ER and find you himself.

“Simmer down, Steve,” Robin says, noticing the way he’s squeezing the lilac teddy bear he bought you at the gift shop. “You’re choking the life out of that thing.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything from Hopper?” Steve asks. He checks his pager for the fiftieth time. “He said he’d keep us updated.”

“She’s probably going through a psych eval or something,” Max says.

“Or an interrogation,” Mike says darkly. “Maybe they think she had something to do with the murders last year.”

“Shut up, Mike!” Nancy hisses.

Steve curses and pinches his nose. Last year, a cruel man named Colonel Sullivan swept into Hawkins, searching for the real culprit behind Vecna’s kills after Eddie was proven innocent (thanks to a bogus alibi cooked up by Owens’ team). Steve was one of the unlucky few questioned, due to his connection as Jason’s former basketball captain. The thought of you, disoriented from so long in that shithole, handcuffed to a hospital bed while Sullivan grills you makes him see red.

Another sinking realization hits Steve: he’s changed since last year. What if you don’t like him anymore, once you realize how much of a mess he became when he lost you?

Hopper emerges through a set of double doors. Steve’s charging over to him in seconds, the rest of his friends piling behind and all talking at once.

Hopper holds up his hands to silence the group.

“Owens wants to run some more tests,” Hopper says. “They’re checking for contaminants in her bloodstream. You all can see her soon.”

He points at Steve. “Except she’s asking for you right now. You ready?”

Steve nods and squeezes your new teddy bear again. He gives Robin a panicked look, and she gives him a quick hug.

“Go get her,” Robin says with an encouraging smile.

Steve smiles back before following Hopper down the hall. Joyce stands outside your hospital room and smiles when she sees Hopper and Steve approach. Steve freezes.

Through the plane of glass in the door, he sees you with your parents. All three of you are crying.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Steve says, backing away from the door. Before he can fully chicken out, Hopper bursts in and says, “Hey, look who came by.”

You and your parents look up. At the sight of him, your mother and father beam.

“Hello, Steve!” your mother says, sweeping him into a hug. “Can you believe she’s back?!”

“It’s a goddamn miracle,” your dad says, wiping tears on his sleeve. “We’ve been praying for this for so long.”

“Let’s leave these two alone to catch up,” Joyce says. “Grace, Roger, why don’t we pick up some food for Y/N?”

Your parents agree and step out with Joyce and Hopper. When it’s just you and Steve, all either of you can do is stare at each other with awkward smiles.

You clear your throat and point to the teddy bear.

“Is that little guy for me?”

“Yes!” Steve says. “Uh, sorry.”

He hands it to you. When your fingers brush, it feels electric. Still, after so long apart—no matter how much he’s dreamed of what it would be like if he somehow saw you again—everything feels stiff. You’re the love of his life and he can’t think of one thing to say.

“How have you been?” you ask quietly, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Steve.

Steve can’t help but laugh and says, “Terrible. I mean, shit. I know what you went through is way worse—”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you say sharply. Steve recoils and you wince. “I’m sorry, Steve. I just—I’ve been through this like five times with Owens’ guys, and over a cover story two more times with the cops. I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about you. What’s been going on?”

Steve wants to know more about what happened. About how you killed Vecna. About how you survived. But he doesn’t. He would never push you to discuss anything you didn’t want to, but he hopes that one day you’ll feel ready to open up to him.

Right now, you want to hear about his life. Where to begin. Steve thinks of sugar-coating the truth but doesn’t when he admits: “For starters, I almost died last year.”

You gasp and sit up a little straighter.

“What? Oh my god, what happened?”

“I’m fine now,” Steve says, waving away your concerns.

“Was it Vecna?”

“No, nothing like that. I really missed you, and I was in a bad place.”

You swallow hard, eyes turning glassy.

“Oh, Steve. Please don’t tell me you tried to—”

“No!” he says quickly. “It was alcohol poisoning. I drank too much being too lonely on Thanksgiving. Had to get my stomach pumped. It wasn’t all bad, though. Robin and I watched ‘A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving’ on the hospital room TV and Joyce snuck in some pie for me.”

You ignore his attempts and lightening the mood and wave him even closer to you. He cautiously approaches and intertwines your fingers when you reach for his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I feel like it’s my fault—”

“Stop it.”

“Steve…”

“No!” Steve says. He shakes his head vehemently. “Don’t think like that. I just…struggled without you. But it’s not your fault that I’m a basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case,” you say. You squeeze his hand. “You’re the hero that crossed dimensions to come rescue me.”

You kiss his palm before scooching over on the hospital bed. You pat the spot next to you.

“What if your parents come back?” Steve asks.

“I’m not trying to hook up right now,” you say with an eye roll. “I just want you to lay with me.”

Steve is happy to oblige. He settles next to you. You rest your head on his shoulder and hug the teddy bear he brought you.

“So, you didn’t move on?” you ask quietly after a few minutes of peaceful silence. “Find a new girlfriend?”

“What?!” Steve asks, looking down at you, jaw dropped. “You really think I found someone else?”

You nod, fidgeting with the bow around your bear’s neck.

“15 months is a long time,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stand in the way if you're with someone else.”

“I couldn’t,” Steve says. He rests a hand on your knee cautiously. When you don’t flinch or move away, he keeps it there. “Y/N, I don’t want anyone else. I only want you, if you’ll still have me.”

You look up at him, noses practically brushing. The close proximity makes Steve’s cheeks flush rosy pink.

“You mean that?” you ask.

Steve nods. It seems to placate you, because in seconds, you’re lifting your chin to kiss him.

It’s a soft, gentle thing. An innocent brush of lips, like the kisses you shared very early in your relationship. Not the passionate “welcome home” kiss that Steve wants to give you, but he understands if you need to take things slow. He’ll move as slow as you need.

For the first time in months, Steve feels hopeful about his future again. Steve’s world is changing once more, in all the right ways.

🍊🍊🍊

EPILOGUE

You and Steve have your futures mapped out: after six months of physical and emotional healing, move in with Steve and join him at U of I in spring of ’88. Get engaged and subsequently married sometime within five years. No kids—at least, not biological ones, because your time in the Upside Down has caused lasting physiological effects that you don’t want to pass on to children. Maybe you’ll adopt a kid, or some dogs.

It's less of a map and more of an amorphous outline of what you two want to happen. All you two know for sure is that you never want to be apart that long ever again.

Steve’s heart and soul have changed, but they belong to you, and yours to him. Always.

🍊🍊🍊

a/n please lmk what you thought 🧡

tag list; @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @tvandfanfic @a-dealwith-god @stevebabey @keerysquinn @spoookysix @inkluvs

[kentofic]

The orange peel theory - gn!reader x Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Nanami Kento, & Gojo Satoru

You learn about the orange peel theory online and decide to covertly try it out on your man.

pure fluff. slight suggestiveness for satoru. yuuji & megumi in their 20s in my mind’s eye. inspo pics n videos linked here n there. is this trend already ancient? yes. has this been done before? of course. but that has yet to stop me. enjoy!!

🍊 Yuuji

“Hey baby,” you start, watching your boyfriend from across the kitchen table, “I kind of feel like an orange.”

Yuuji puts his chin in his hand as his eyebrows scrunch together with thought before saying, “Y’know, now that you mention it, I kind of feel like a tomato.”

You blink at him, processing, before bursting into laughter, doubling over with the force of it.

“What?? What’s so funny?” Yuuji demands, surprised and a little offended.

“I meant like, I want an orange, babe—like I feel like eating an orange,” you giggle, wiping tears of mirth from your eyes. Yuuji perks up at that.

“Oh, we’ve got oranges! Lemme get one for you,” he says brightly, leaping up to fetch one. He swipes one from the fruit bowl and presents it proudly to you, arm outstretched.

“What if I said I don’t feel like peeling it?” you grin, tilting your head at him.

Without missing a beat, Yuuji says, “Then I’ll peel it for you! I can cut it, juice it—I can even sauté it. Whatever you want, baby.” Yuuji tosses the fruit up in the air and catches it with ease before flashing you a bright smile.

“Aw, thank you, baby,” you laugh. You pull him in by the waist so you can press sweet kisses all over his cheeks.

Yuuji happily peels the orange for you as you watch him with a smile. He manages to get the peel off in one long, continuous piece, which he dangles for you proudly. He splits the orange in half and gives you the larger half. You eat the fruit together, getting sticky sweet juice all over your fingers.

🍊 Megumi

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” you prompt, peering at Megumi from the other side of the couch. You try not to look like you’re up to something.

Megumi glances up from his phone to look at you. You have the vague sense that he’s clocked you, but if he has, his expression betrays nothing. “What?”

“An orange.” You blink at him expectantly.

“….Okay,” he says after a beat, “Then have an orange. You bought some yesterday, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you sigh dramatically, letting your eyes close as you sag against the cushions of the couch. “But I don’t feel like peeling one.”

You wait for Megumi’s response as you feign laziness, your eyes still shut. When nothing comes, you crack an eye open to find he’s not even looking at you, just scrolling through his phone again. You scoff loudly to let him know you’re very offended at being ignored.

“If you want something, you gotta use your words,” he says without looking up.

You stick your bottom lip out in a pout. “You’re no fun, ‘gumi.”

He glances over at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression otherwise unchanging.

“…Fine,” you relent, softening your pout to a beseeching look. “Will you peel an orange for me, please?”

He looks at you a second longer before exhaling and pushing himself off the couch. “Was that so hard?” he hums, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he retaliates by ruffling your hair as he passes you on his way to the kitchen. He grabs an orange from the fridge before plopping back down next to you.

“Thanks, ‘gumi,” you grin, feeling pleased with yourself. You snuggle up against him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“So spoiled,” he mumbles as he starts peeling, his ears turning a faint shade of pink.

Megumi carefully pulls the peel away from the fruit, saving the bottom piece for the orange to rest on. He pulls out the fibrous middle and gently parts the segments before handing it to you to eat. He watches silently as you enjoy your snack, and he lets you poke the occasional piece between his lips as repayment for his services.

🍊 Kento

“Honey, I’m hungry,” you hum, surreptitiously glancing over at your husband before looking back at your phone.

Kento looks up from his book and checks his watch with a flick of his wrist. “It’s only four, but I can start dinner now. I bought steak and potatoes yesterday. And I can toss together a quick salad too. How does that sound, sweetheart?” he offers, rising from his armchair and stretching his arms.

Damn, it sounds delicious. But you’re on a mission to get him to peel an orange, so you have to decline.

“I don’t know, I kind of want something lighter,” you hedge, trying not to give yourself away with your expression.

Kento raises an eyebrow at you as he leans against the armrest of his chair. He makes a soft, pensive sound as he thinks. “Then how about I go pick something up from the bakery down the street? I can get you a casse-croute or a pastry to tide you over until dinner.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. Kento’s so sweet, you can’t help but feel delight fizz up in you, even if you’re trying to steer him in a different direction.

“I dunno, I think I just want, like, a snack,” you say, your voice wavering with the giggles you’re fighting to contain.

Kento’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, and you know you’ve been caught. You flatten your lips into a line as you try to hold back your grin. He crosses his arms over his chest as a wry smile pulls at his lips.

“If you already know what you want to eat, why don’t you go ahead and tell me, my love. No need for games,” he says, his expression caught between fond and stern.

“…Can you peel me an orange?” you ask sheepishly, giving him an apologetic grin.

He lets out a soft sigh as he pushes off from the armrest. He approaches where you’re curled up on the couch and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Of course I can.”

Kento tests each orange in the fridge with a gentle squeeze to find the one that’s perfectly ripe. He cuts it into precise, even slices and brings it to you on a little plate. He returns to his book, but he watches you over the edge of the pages, a barely-there, satisfied smile on his lips as you enjoy the fruit.

🍊 Satoru

“Y’know what I’m craving right now?” you prompt, your eyes flitting over to Satoru lazing on the couch. He perks up immediately, a stupid grin spreading across his face.

“My di—”

“An orange,” you interrupt him, your expression deadpan. He pouts for a moment, lolling his head back against the cushions, but he brightens again as an idea strikes him. He leans over to rustle through a plastic bag full of convenience store snacks, and he emerges with a bright package of fruity candy.

“Here, I have some orange gummies! Don’t confuse them with the mango ones though,” he says, tossing it to you. You catch the package on instinct, but you shake your head as you set it down on the coffee table.

“I want a real orange, Satoru. Y’know, the fruit. With nutrients. I bought a couple yesterday.”

“Ah, I ate those already.”

You blink at him, your eyebrow twitching. Sensing your displeasure, Satoru throws his hands up in a placating gesture.

“In my defense, you didn’t tell me they were yours.”

“…Since when do you eat anything other than sweets?” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“They were sweet,” he says wistfully. Your grimace deepens, and he laughs.

“Relax, baby. I’ll replace them. I’m ordering some right now,” he says, tapping away at his phone as he places the delivery order.

Twenty minutes later, Satoru hops up to answer the door and returns with a paper bag. He drops two enormous, beautiful oranges into your lap, each one wrapped in delicate foam netting. The stickers on the fruit are black and gold, which you imagine signals their luxury quality. You turn an orange over in your hand, amazed.

“This is the fanciest orange I’ve ever seen. How much did this cost?”

“I dunno, I didn’t check. I just got the best looking ones,” Satoru says idly, tearing into a package of cookies he ordered for himself and popping one in his mouth.

“Well, thank you.” You extend the orange in his direction. “Will you peel it for me, ‘toru?”

Satoru grins and swallows the food in his mouth. “Sure. Anything for you, baby.” He dusts the crumbs from his hands and grabs the orange from you. “Plus, I wouldn’t want you tiring out those pretty little hands peeling fruit. Not when they can be put to much better use,” he says with an exaggerated wink. He bursts into laughter when you shove him.

Satoru pulls back the peel in a bizarre shape with five strange appendages. You eventually realize he’s made it into the vague shape of a man. It’s cute for a second, until he shimmies the fruit out while leaving the fibrous white middle dangling between the legs of the orange peel man. He laughs heartily at his attempt at a dick joke. You groan and snatch your orange back from him, and he immediately whines that he wants some.

a/n: i tricked you all with my smut and now present to you… fluff. i’m sorry i’ve misled you LOL. just needed to kick this outta my drafts. more smut is on the way <3 and as always, my ask is open for ideas/requests !!

[avocado-writing]

i hope u know im chewing on ur good omens work like a cat does with those matatabi sticks ,,,, ANYWAY do u mind writing an aziraphale x reader [gn] x crowley w a recurring fruit means love metaphor ? like sharing a lil clementine or getting ur hands all gross n sticky from cutting smthn open [cough cough a peach . i had 2 stick my fingers in one 2 separate it n get the pit out n it was ,,, mildly uncomfortable] n the other person sucks the juice off their fingers ,,,,,,,,, just very intimate n cute things like that :] thanx !!

so I’m sorry this is less love as fruit and more uhhh lust as fruit please forgive me

Crowley x reader x Aziraphale (good omens)

From his place sorting books he never intends to sell into one of his many already-cramped shelves, Aziraphale watches you in the break room. 

You’re waiting for the kettle to boil, eating an apple while you grab a mug and teabag. Even from here Aziraphale can hear the pop-hiss as you take a bite from the crisp skin. Your teeth sink into the flesh and juice rolls down your chin onto the counter. You wipe it away absent-mindedly with the back of your hand.  

You might be the one eating, but it’s Aziraphale who swallows. 

You lick your lips, thumbing the sweet stickiness from your face and sucking it clean. Aziraphale wonders what it tastes like.

He wonders if he could do it for you. 

🍎 

“Crowley, you want a bit of tangerine?”

Crowley looks up from where he’s been idly scrolling through his phone - tiktok! Credit where it’s due, hell did a great job on that one - right into your smiling face. He’s not much of an eater (that’s more Aziraphale’s speed) but your eagerness enraptures him. 

“Oh, go on then.”

It’s so human, to share a little bit of your food with someone. It shows you care about them; want them nourished. Crowley’s gaze falls to where your fingers begin to work the orange skin. 

There’s something entrancing about the way you work it. Something almost illicit. The juice dripping from you as your thumb accidentally slides its way through a segment. You curse quietly and work on the other half, your fingertips gliding across the folds of fruit. 

There’s something that trips from being suggestive into lewd. 

He’s glad when you finally manage to pass him a piece, because his mouth has gone utterly dry. 

🍊 

They find you in the shared kitchen, sucking the flesh from a mango. Your eyes dart up from the sticky mess you’ve made on your hands and face. 

“Sorry,” you mutter through your bite, “I promise I’ll clean up in a moment, just—”

You don’t get to finish because they descend upon you. 

Aziraphale licks it from your lips, moaning in the back of his throat at the combined taste of your sweetness. Crowley grabs your hand and takes your whole thumb into his mouth, tongue dancing around the soft pad. 

Their mouths don’t leave you for the next couple of hours. 

[ccawz]

Tangerines

a/n: written a while ago, when I saw something about peeling an orange for a loved one is like saying ‘I love you.’ also cause I’m getting a tangerine tattoo for loml bsk 🍊

lee know x gn!reader (implied member) 205 wc, fluff

“I hate peeling these things,” Minho grumbled, tossing the tangerine peel with a look of disgust. “Hate it.” You hum, watching with furrowed brows as he bites into it instead of peeling the slices.

After filming his solo scenes, Minho made his way to the dressing room, sighing in content as he thought about the snacks waiting for him. He really wants a tangerine, but doesn’t want to go through the hassle of peeling it.

“Hey,” you call him, waving him over to your spot on the couch. He situated himself so his legs would hang over your lap and quirked a brow when you handed him a small bowl of the fruit he was dreaming of, lips parting when he saw they’d been peeled. “You said you hated peeling them.”

“You listened to that?” He asks, feeling a lump form in his throat when you stare at him.

“I always listen to you.” You look away when he does, clearing your throat nervously. Minho leans closer to you with newfound confidence, biting into the small fruit graciously. “But I don’t like the way you eat those.”

His eyes smile, and juice slightly dribbles from the corner of his lips when he grins. “It’s faster.”

[tasteleeknow]

ORANGE

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: suggestive. fluff. f2l. content: finger sucking. word count: 1.1k inspired by @tasteracha​ 🍊

summary: minho made you nervous on a good day. then he offers to feed you an orange. tension and pining.

He made you nervous. Everything about him. The way he looks at you, the little witty comments he’d make. He was always making people laugh. You were always worried about boring him, or embarrassing yourself. You were quiet with him, much quieter than you were with anyone else. Still, he stuck around. You weren't sure why. 

You watch his thumbs dig into the orange, a little juice running down his hand as he peels the skin. He’d taken the fruit from your hands and plopped himself down onto the grass beside you. He hasn’t said a single word since and still your heart races in your chest. That was just the effect he had on you. 

“Do you eat anything apart from fruit?” he teases, nudging your shoulder slightly as he continues peeling. You watch as some of the juice drips from his wrist onto the grass between his legs. 

“I like fruit,” you answer lamely.

He smiles. “I know.” He offers you a slice of the orange, holding it up to you between his messy fingers. He pulls it back when you reach up to take it from him. “No point both of us getting sticky,” he says, holding it up to your mouth again. He wants you to eat it directly from his hand. You can do that, you tell yourself.

Your heart thumps against your chest as you lean towards him to take the fruit from his fingers, one of them brushing your lips in the process. You keep your eyes off his face. It’s the only reason you manage it without choking. 

You watch the rest of your friends around the barbeque as you chew. They’ve been attempting to make lunch and creating a mess in the process. Minho had quickly been frustrated by the chaos, you’d seen it on his face minutes before he’d dropped the tongs and left them to it—joining you on the grass instead. You hadn’t read into it; you couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape. 

He bumps your knee with his and you turn to find him holding another slice out for you. Your eyes flick to his quickly before you take the slice between your lips, catching a little more of his finger this time. 

“Do you think they’ll make anything edible?” he asks. 

You finish chewing before responding, watching as he eats the last slice. He liked fruit too. 

“Why do you think I’m over here filling up on oranges?” you respond. 

He huffs out a small laugh, one corner of his mouth pulling up into one of his signature smirks. Another thing he did that made you nervous. You feel your cheeks warming and you pull your eyes from his face before he notices your ogling. 

“I ate most of it. Sorry.” 

“I don’t mind,” you answer quickly. 

He holds his hand out in front of him, elbows resting on his bent knees. “This is the worst part. I’m all sticky,” he groans. 

“I could’ve done it for you. You snatched it from me.” 

He turns to look at you, lips pressed together in a suppressed smile. You drop your eyes from his, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“I should wash them,” he says, shifting in an attempt to stand without the use of his hands. You reach over to grab his wrist, freezing once your fingers are wrapped around him. It had felt like a panic reflex, reaching out to stop him without thought. Oh fuck. Your eyes follow a drop of juice as it drips down his wrist. You could drop him. Everything would continue on as normal and you wouldn’t have potentially embarrassed yourself. Your infatuated brain offers you an alternative: you could pull his fingers to your mouth and wrap your lips around him, sucking the sticky residue from his skin yourself. You relax your fingers, ready to drop him. 

“You look pretty today,” he says suddenly, his voice much quieter than you were used to. 

You drag your eyes up to his face as his words bounce around your brain. “Sorry?” you ask, his wrist still in your grip. 

“Not that you don’t usually,” he clarifies, suddenly looking nervous. You’d never seen him nervous before. Is this how you looked to him all the time? “You just…I mean your eyes in the sun. They look…nice.” 

You imagine your heart beating out of your chest. Cause of death: pretty boy fed her fruit then complimented her eyes. He was nice. He had a sense of humour but he was always kind when it mattered. He might just sense you needed a compliment. Your eyes drop to his sticky fingers again. Your other brain takes over. He might really think you’re pretty. He might like it if you wrap your lips around his fingers. 

“You…don’t have to wash your hands,” you mutter, falling to make eye contact with him again. Your bravery could only go so far. 

He’s silent and you imagine a look of disgust crossing his pretty features as he realises your meaning. You don’t drop his wrist anyway. Maybe if you don’t move then the moment won’t end. You can stay frozen right here before you have to face the humiliation. 

“I don’t?” he questions finally. You lift your eyes to his. He doesn’t look disgusted. He looks…dazed. His lips are a little parted, two front teeth peaking through the small gap. 

You suck in a shallow breath then lift his hand up to your mouth. “I like fruit a lot,” you whisper. “Especially orange.” He nods, his eyes dropping to your mouth. It gives you the courage to part your lips, slipping his index finger into your mouth to the knuckle. He doesn’t pull away, eyes still fixed on where he enters you. You wrap your lips around him properly, finger pressed to your tongue, then you pull him from your mouth slowly—sucking the sticky juice from his skin.

You wait for him to decide if he wants you to continue, holding his hand steady. Then the same finger you’d just pulled from your mouth moves towards you again, the tip pulling your bottom lip down a little before releasing you. Your eyes flick across his face, a slight red tinge colouring the tips of his ears. He still hasn’t looked away from your mouth. 

“Minho?” you whisper. 

His eyes finally meet yours. His lips part and you hold your breath, anticipating his next words. 

“Oy!” Chan calls, startling you as you drop Minho’s hand. “Food’s ready!” he adds, using the tongs in his hands to beckon you over.

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ general masterlist

[bwabys-scenarios]

Orange Theory with JJK Men

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

🍊 Would they peel an orange for you if asked?🍊

Gojo

“Can you peel an orange for me, ‘Toru?”

He glanced up at you, then to the orange. He made his way over to you and started to peel it without question. When he finished, he placed one slice of the orange in your mouth before walking away with the rest.

“H-hey! ‘Toru, get back here, that’s my orange!”

“I peeled it, it’s mine now!”

Nanami

He would, but he would be a bit curious about why you would want him to peel it for you when he already knows you can do it in the first place.

“I just got my nails done, I don’t want to mess them up and get orange peel under my nails.” you offered and explanation that made enough sense to satiate him, and he immediately started peeling the orange for you.

“I see, then let me peel it for you.”

He feeds the orange slices to you, smiling softly. You’re just too cute.

Choso

“Can you-“

“Yes.”

You tried not to giggle. “Choso, baby, I didn’t even finish what I was about to say.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’d do anything for you.”

He attempted to peel the orange for you, but kept poking his thumb through the skin and piercing the flesh of the orange. Choso was left a blubbering mess, holding the pulp remains of the orange in his hands. “I’m s-sorry…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. We have more oranges. But uh… I’ll peel it this time.”

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Hello! It's me againn and guess what 😈😈 Yes! I got another idea for Tom Riddle and m!reader 😋😋

Ekhem- so basically Tom was assigned to tutor this boy who was known for his lack of effort in class, he would sleep nor just ditched out the classes. So, as a nice Headboy he was, Tom decided to accept the task to tutor the boy and behold! The boy just sleeping the whole time Tom explain smth to him. So yeah Tom's mad n reader was like "Huh why r u mad? I don't even need tutor in the 1st place..." So Tom's gotten more mad 😔 and reader would like 🧍‍♂️

AHAHAHA n then as an apology, reader shows up to Tom after the exam ended n gave him his exam papers and oh boy this mf got O (Outstanding) for all the subjects, turns out the reader is able to do the school works from the beginning but he just won't do it bc he's a lazy ass bitch. Then Tom's reaction would be "🧍‍♂️...Yeah, i need those genes for my kids 😍"

THIS IS SO MESSY LMAO im sorry here's sum oranges for ur wonderful writing 🍊🍊🍊

Tutoring - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much!! I love seeing you in my ask box! I hope this is what you were wanting 💛 Sorry about the ending lol. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to end it well.

I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something! Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N

Anyway, have some hearts for sending me so many amazing requests! 💛💛💛💛

CW: Tom being fed up; anger; laziness; yelling; Tom gets fairly upset in this; somewhat mean words towards the reader; making up; brief compliment towards Tom; Abraxas and Tom are friends in this; Tom gets a little bit obsessed with reader; Tom’s evil plans

1144 words

It was a little known fact that Tom loved tutoring. For more selfish reasons than he’d care to admit, but he loved it all the same.

It was the rush of power he felt when a teacher came to him on behalf of yet another student. It was the pride when a student finally understood the material.

It was even the knowledge that Tom was smarter than most of the students at Hogwarts.

And yet, for all his love of tutoring, he was seriously debating quitting.

Why?

The answer was simple. You.

Tom had agreed to tutor you as a favor to Professor Slughorn. It wasn’t even for extra credit; a rare occasion of Tom being nice.

The professor was clearly fed up with you, and Tom was more than willing to take on a challenge.

And oh, what a challenge you were.

You were late to your first tutoring session, completely missed the second one, and slept through the third one.

You’d apologized, of course; but by the fourth tutoring session, it was clear you just didn’t have the motivation to study.

And it infuriated Tom.

He’d never failed as a tutor before, and he certainly wasn’t going to fail now.

When your eyes start to droop for the third time in ten minutes during your next study session, Tom’s patience runs out.

“Were you attending a party last night?” he demands, hands clenched. “What in Merlin’s name could have made you so tired?”

You startle, blearily lifting your head and rubbing at your eyes. “You think I’m cool enough to attend a party?”

It sounds like a genuine question, one Tom refuses to answer.

“What. Kept. You. Up?”

“My roommates.” You yawn and settle back into your seat. “They were having fun or something. Bein’ loud. Kept me up most of the night.”

Tom’s fists unclench. He takes a deep breath. “And do they do this every night?”

“Well… sort of…?” You fiddle with your quill. “Not every night, but…”

Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. “Talk to your Head of House about it. They’ll deal with your noisy roommates.”

“Alright.” You give him a small smile. Tom doesn’t return it.

“Now, for your potions essay…”

You slump in your seat.

But Tom counts it as a win when it takes you a few minutes longer than usual before your head starts drooping again.

You’re falling asleep yet again, and Tom has had it with you.

He slams the potions guide down on the table, startling you awake.

“Merlin, what the—“

“What—“ Tom seethes, “—is wrong with you?”

You blink, clearly taken aback. “Uhhh…”

“I have done my absolute best to ensure you don’t fail your exams next week, and you have done nothing but laze about and sleep!”

“Look, Riddle, just chill out.” You hold up your hands placatingly, giving him a weak smile. “I don’t get why you’re so upset. Professor Slughorn said you wanted to tutor me.”

“Well, not anymore! I am through with you!” Tom stands, fists clenched. “You have driven me to my wit’s end! If you’re not going to bother even trying to focus, I’m not going to bother trying to help you!”

“Hey—“

“I quit!” Tom snaps.

You stare at him, stunned. Then you cross your arms. “Well, fine! Merlin knows I never needed a tutor in the first place!”

Tom glares at you and angrily gathers his things.

It doesn’t feel good to quit. But he’s never felt so helpless before. You just simply seem to refuse to learn.

As he stalks away, though, there’s an odd pull at his heart. Maybe it was something about the unhappiness in your eyes. Or the way your fingers trembled as they gripped your quill.

Whatever it was, Tom squashes the feeling like a bug. He’s done with you. Not even a favor from Slughorn could tempt him to take you on again.

Of that, he is certain.

Tom’s sitting with Abraxas in the main hall, celebrating his exam scores. All Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations, even for Divination and Herbology.

He’s particularly proud of his O in Potions, proof that he knows the material well.

He’s just about to bite into a pumpkin pastry when there’s a soft cough behind him.

He turns, raising an eyebrow. It’s you, looking quite sheepish.

“Hey, Riddle.”

Tom purses his lips together thinly and crosses his arms. “Hello.”

You shuffle your feet and rub the back of your neck. “I know you were really mad at me,” you mumble, “But I wanted to explain myself a bit…”

“Then explain.”

You take a deep breath and pull a piece of paper from your pocket. It’s your report card for the exams.

Tom takes it, expecting to see some sort of dismal grade requiring his assistance.

But instead, what greets him is the best set of scores he’s ever seen. All Outstandings, in every class.

Tom stares at the report card, utterly baffled. “What?”

You rub the back of your neck again, not meeting his gaze. “I told you, I didn’t need a tutor. I can do the work. I just don’t like it.”

Tom slowly looks up from the report card. “You… just don’t like it…?”

You shrug. “Schoolwork’s boring. I’d rather do something else instead.”

Tom’s brain is a whirl. You were capable of doing the coursework already. More so, you knew everything well enough to get Outstandings in every class, something even he failed to do.

Tom hands you back your report card. “I owe you an apology then.”

“Nah,” you laugh softly and shuffle your feet. “Don’t worry about it. ‘Sides, you’re kinda cute all angry ‘n’ stuff.”

Tom blinks. You shrug and give him an awkward smile. “See you around, Riddle.”

“Right…” He watches as you walk away.

Then he turns quickly to Abraxas. “Malfoy, he had all Outstandings.”

Abraxas glances at him once, then does a double take. “Oh, no. I know that look. What are you planning?”

Tom grins. “Surely you see it? A brain that smart, when paired with my cunning? We’d be unstoppable.”

Abraxas glances at where you’d been standing. “Tom, I don’t know about this…”

But Tom’s mind is already at work. You already thought he was cute once… With the right sort of manipulation, perhaps he could get you to think it again.

Perhaps he could get you to fall in love with him.

“Just think about it, Malfoy. Our children would be geniuses!”

Abraxas just sighs. He shakes his head, but Tom ignores him. His plan is forming in his mind; his perfect plan to get you to fall in love with him.

With only a little bit of persuasion, he’ll get you to fall in love with him. And then you’ll be his lover forever. The other half to his genius.

And then all his plans will be perfected.

[accio-victuuri]

some february fake rumors 💭

i am referencing these two contributions here & here. while we’re preparing ourselves for the chaos of xz’s mfw appearances, let’s enjoy these sweets first!

i’m using a very sexy xiao laoshi just because… 🤷🏻‍♀️

the first one is so funny and nostalgic with how it was presented. usually, fake rumors are in conversation form or in paragraphs. or, at some point, there is a story and then OP will include stick drawings to better explain what’s happening. this was popular when the topic are unofficial bts content before the videos were released.

this contribution tho only had the stick figure 😂😂

you can clearly see what’s the “story” here. lol. the two of them were caught by someone. this is not the first time a story like this came out but seeing it this way is entertaining. fans are also pointing out what they are doing, the faces are so close! kissing! 💋

the second one goes back to the usual format of conversations.

the first part is a staff telling yibo that be brought so much and then wyb says he doesn’t have the car to carry the stuff. he also said he has divided it, to which another staff says it’s easier for them. they tell wyb that he should eat more mandarin oranges.

wyb: Yo, you’re back

wyb: Come on, I brought everything with me.

xz: If I don’t eat, I’ll stay up late tomorrow and die of swelling.

xz: gone

🏃🏃🏃🏃

wyb: Look at me going all the way here and you’re ignoring me.

xz: Aren’t you pretty good at the game?

wyb: That's different

xz: Why is it different? Please explain it carefully.

wyb: Fierce me 🥹👈🏻Brother x, look at everything about him

xz: 🙄🤛🏻

wyb: If you don’t eat carbohydrates, your temper will get worse.

LOL. Years later, WYB is still worrying over XZ and what he eats lol. and how WYB wants all of XZ’s attention, and his gege playing along. I can imagine him saying “please explain it”.

staff 2: 🍊 So delicious

staff 1: I’ll take two more

xz: You guys eat so much

xz: Come, come here

i love how wyb’s love language is giving gifts, and it shows here. this is allegedly a fake scenario during the CNY holidays, and ofc, Bobo won’t forget gifts for XZ’s staff as well! what a good brother in law!

🚪🚪🚪🚪

I don’t know anything. I only know how to eat. You can talk wherever you like. Where can we go to talk? We'll make up soon anyway.

🚪🚪🚪🚪

xz: Okay, I won’t argue with you anymore. I went back to take a shower and sweated all over.

wyb: Then I’ll go back too

xz: You eat here and eat with them

wyb: I’m afraid of getting swollen even if I don’t eat.

xz: Okay?

wyb: ☺️☺️🥰

wyb: Withdrawal ✋🏻

wyb: You should ☺️ take a sip to reduce swelling.

xz: you😂

xz: Is it okay if I ask Brother A to buy red beans for me?

wyb: Let’s go upstairs☺️

The use of the door here and this commentary from the OP made fans think of the “drawing” from the rumor i discussed first. It’s like OP is implying that he was only there to enjoy the food from wyb. The previous convo looks like the two are bickering, but they will be sweet later. make up soon? what does that mean? Did OP see them kissing?

P.S: if you have a weibo account, please like all the comments with yellow circles in this xzs new post. take this as a reminder to do the same for the MFW posts in the coming days. 💪🏼 we have to show our support! XZ will most likely post on IG too, so this is your reminder to follow him.

-END.

[stitchthelilo]

what if pets had tumblr? you could even call it… petblr?! (this is very self indulgent)

just a quick warning, there will be unreality stuff in this, stay safe ^^

0 notes

🐈‍⬛ orangekittylover Follow

i hate people who call orange cats dumb like bffr that’s an EXTREMELY harmful stereotype and you should be ashamed

🧀 mrsqueaksalot Follow

username checks out

🧀 mrsqueaksalot Follow

why do i hear something clawing at the wall

39,276 notes

👑 goldenkitty Follow

me to the cats who don’t get the expensive shit (my parents actually love me)

🌑 gothcatqueen Follow

GIRL.. LITERALLY ALL CAT FOOD IS EXPENSIVE 💀

👑 goldenkitty Follow

the difference is mine is actually good

#bitches wanna be like me fr

🌑 gothcatqueen Follow

DON’T ACT AS IF WE DON’T SEE THAT TAG, NOBODY WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU!! someone humble this kitten already.. probably the runt of the litter 💀💀

🐈‍⬛ themoontoyoursun Follow

that’s a bit too far.

1,829 notes

🐴 fastestmare Follow

prepping for a race, wish me luck yall

🐎 imevenfaster Follow

i hope you lose so bad they throw you a pity party

🐴 fastestmare Follow

WHAT THE FUCK

160 notes

🛑 petinfo101 Follow

Signs of a Human trying to TRICK YOU!

1. Line of treats, humans tend to use this to lure you into carriers or anything of the sorts.

Read more

🍊 zerobraincells Follow

i wish i saw this sooner.

102,922 notes

🐔 cluckinallnight Follow

to whoever is making that racket right outside of the barn… stop, i’m trying to sleep

🐺 hungryforchicken Follow

no

🐔 cluckinallnight Follow

your username concerns me

🐔 cluckinallnight Follow

like.. a lot. SHOULD I BE MOVING TO AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT FARM??

🐺 hungryforchicken Follow

WHAT NO STAY HERE I NEED MY DINNER

8,901 notes

❄️ babyitscoldoutside Follow

UGHHHH MY OWNER SWITCHED ME BACK TO DRY FOOD…… WHY EVEN GIVE ME WET FOOD IF YOU ARE JUST GONNA TAKE IT AWAY?? IT’S LITERALLY JUST TORTURE

☁️ balloffluff Follow

NO BUT EXACTLY BRO WHY CAN’T I KEEP EATING IT????????????

😾 angrykitty Follow

it makes me angry.

🧀 mrsqueaksalotjr Follow

username checks out

🐈‍⬛ orangekittylover Follow

if you don’t stfu right now i’ll give you the same fate as your father

🧀 mrsqueaksalotjr Follow

MY BAD? 😨

🐶 thebestboy Follow

your owners stop doing that??

1,892,483 notes

🐇 grasseater Follow

just built a new burrow!!

🐺 hungryforchicken Follow

let me just.. change my username real quick

🐺 hungryforrabbit Follow

you know what they say, it’s rabbit season!!!

🐇 grasseater Follow

IT IS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO RABBIT SEASON ITS JANUARY

🐺 hungryforrabbit Follow

every month is rabbit season for me :)

16 notes

🐾 shortkingsforlife Follow

i swear to dog why do humans make us chihuahuas have such a bad reputation?? WE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING, YOU ARE THE ONES WHO PROVOKED US AND MADE US GET HOSTILE!

🐈‍⬛ orangekittylover Follow

i can relate, humans say black cats are "bad luck"

🐾 shortkingsforlife Follow

aw i’m so sorry :(

🐾 shortkingsforlife Follow

hey how about we talk more in dms?

🐈‍⬛ orangekittylover Follow

i’d like that :3

🐈 thesuntoyourmoon Follow

finally a wholesome moment on here for once

220 notes

[mykoreanlove]

🍊

You fumbled with your outfit for the 100th time, still annoyed with how it looked.

„Why the fuck did she make us dress up in orange. I look like a giant carrot“, you huffed out in annoyance.

It was your friend‘s birthday which you gladly arrived for. You left the city five years ago and returned on happy occasions like this. Still, you were nervous to meet her new friends. But you were even more nervous about your old friends, especially Minho.

Ever since you moved away your friendship took a downfall. Back then the two of you worked at an agency together. You became inseparable from the get go - he was your confidante, your drinking buddy, your big brother when you needed him. Rumors about you dating circulated all the time but it was just that - rumors. You had no romantic feelings for him, even though he did. Or so you thought.

He never confessed properly but dropped some hints over the years.

You took a last glance into the mirror and sighed defeatedly : „Guess I’m gonna be a carrot for tonight.“

Your friend shot you a message as you were late to the party.

„Girl get your ass here. Minho has already asked about you ;)“

You gulped. He did? Wasn’t he coming with his wife? You thought back to when he first met her. Ironically, she has the same name as you, only spelled differently.

Memories of you sitting at the river flooded your mind. Minho consulted you for dating advice as he usually did.

„So, we went on a date yesterday and well, it happened. We had sex. It was nice, nothing too crazy but I still don’t know where this is going.“

He looked like he had to decide if he wanted to join the army now or wait a little longer.

You smiled benignly. „Break up with her.“

Minho turned to you in shock. „What? I can‘t break up with her the day after we had sex!“

You sighed - was he really that oblivious? „Min, I don’t want you to break up because you finally fucked her but because you have dated her for a while now and you’re totally unimpressed by her. Let her go. She deserves better and so do you.“

He was lost in thought, contemplating his options.

You moved away shortly after which resulted in him getting distant. He was serious with your name doppelgänger as they became an official couple. Maybe you were too quick to judge?

You arrived at the venue and laughed to yourself. Given the different shapes of the guests it was like a gathering of carrots and oranges. You spotted your friend and went over to congratulate her. You chatted about the past while downing sweet orange drinks.

„Have you seen him?“

„Whom?“, you giggled.

„Minho, y/n. Aren’t you curious? He’s right behind you.“

You turned around and spotted your old friend. He still looked handsome, even if slightly older. He was listening to his wife talking, holding on to his cigarettes for dear life.

You caught his gaze and congealed. Minho looked sad. No, that was not it, he rather looked lonely.

You thought back to one of your later visits. Your group of friends was all drinking and talking but somehow you ended up alone with him. Minho started pouring out his heart to you, in desperate need for help. He wasn’t happy with her, he wasn’t happy alone either so what was he to do?

„What’s so wrong with breaking up? And actually looking for someone that makes your heart flutter?“

He downed another shot before he answered. „I’d rather be with her on cloud 4 than on no cloud at all.“

Seeing him now made you realize that life on cloud 4 had to be cruel. As Minho realized that it was you looking at him his whole face lit up and he walked right over to you.

„Y/N!“ He hugged you tightly in his strong arms. „Damn, why are you still so good looking?“

You missed his banter, you missed him even more.

„Shut up, Min“, you laughed. Only then did you notice his wife standing beside him, fuming with jealousy.

In all those years you never actually met her, only heard those stories about her. You wanted to give her a chance so you greeted her casually. „Hey, you must be y/n, I am also y/n - nice to finally meet you!“

The second you stopped talking her soul left her body. She didn’t take your hand, she didn’t say a word to you at all. Enraged she turned to Minho and made a scene.

„Y/N? THAT Y/N? Are you seriously expecting me to party with her like this?“

You had no clue what got her so mad but decided to leave the premise before she would ruin the whole party. You motioned at Minho, whispering „I’m gonna go, Min.“

Only when you turned around were you able to fully grasp the argument.

„You take me to a party where the girl you’ve been in love with for years is also at and expect me to be cool with it?“

You stopped dead in your tracks. Did you hear that right? In love with you? Was she for real? You turned around slowly and faced him concerned. He looked embarrassed - both by the scene his wife made but also by the sudden confession. He never intended on telling you but now the cat was out the bag.

His wife noticed you observing them too which only fueled her anger more. „What are you looking at? Aren’t you ashamed to come here even though I am here? Don’t you know your place?“

Before you could explain yourself Minho spoke up. „She didn’t know.“

„What do you mean she didn’t know? You never told her but you told me?“

Minho looked you straight in the eyes, his gaze as intense as their argument. He didn’t break eye contact when he answered his wife.

„I told you because you are my wife and I planned on sharing my life with you. But maybe that was a mistake.“

He turned around and left. His wife broke down crying, only to be immediately consoled by her friends. Your friend came over and patted you on the shoulder. „Damn, did not see that coming.“

You didn’t either.

[neonsheepe]

This was meant to be a sketch, I was not actually intending to fully render a whole art piece 🫣 that being said, I’m really happy how this turned out. Again I’m trying to leave my comfort zone with art, and this time’s big jump was rendering in legacy style with the lighting. I learned to appreciate orange 🍊

This was a completely self-indulgent piece with my OC Melli who has a whole entire story which I PROMISE I will get around to writing about, or at least a character sheet with her basic summary (and how she ended up with Clu of all people aljshvfskfjvh it’s complicated)

[neverchecking]

Oh the requests are open again? .3. Mmm… how about cuddle time with Wars? I got his stupid face in my head now… Anyways nothing to big, just two beings enjoying each other’s company. Those if you would like to go NSFW then by all means, feel free. Use any kinks you want… I’m still bad a kinks… well actually… I do have a slight spanking kink… just a small one… it just happened to me one day, don’t even know how it happened… Apple time! 🍏

I do appreciate my apples.

So i didn't go straight NSFW bc im in a very fluffy mood rn so... Get some fluff!

And I know yall have been missing Sage. So I'm here to amend that...with wars bc absence makes the heart grow fonder or something-

Throwing you an orange this time!🍊🍊

Just a heads up BTW! I may not be very active today as I'm on that break I mentioned. I'm vacationing with the family all day today, but I'll still check in every now and again!

This day couldn't have gotten any better in his eyes.

It really couldn't have.

He had woken up, with you in his arms, his beloved Goddess divine, still breathing evenly and looking so at ease. Your facial features were lax and glowing in the limited light in the room, sunrise barely kissing your features and it truly made you look effervescent. Your lips even had a soft upturn to them, as if just his mere presence with yours was enough to keep your subconscious buzzing happily.

Exactly the way he wanted it.

When you had awoken, gently blinking your eyes open you had greeted him with what was certainly a cavity inducing smile. In your hazy daze of consciousness you had bestowed upon him kiss after kiss, lacing his jaw in your badges of love. Fingers lazy and heavy ran through his hair, messing it in all sort of ways before combing it back. And when you let out the symphony of sleepy giggles when he returned the affections? He swore he could've died then and there and it would not have been in vein.

While he had eventually been forced to pull away, those sweet moments kept him sane for the day. It was lackluster without you, dull, but the knowledge that he'd see you later had him gritting his teeth and baring it.

Just simply the thought of you had him melting just a bit.

From your soft skin to the way your body curves, and your serene smile that just lit up your face whenever you saw. You delicate traces along his skin as you laughed, clinging onto him and trusting him enough to catch your weight as you fell back. Just the sound of your voice as you told him about you day, going on about So-and-so or complaining about what whats-his-face did. He would listen like the devoted follower he was, clinging to your every word. Anything you would bestow upon him, be it word, touch or just simply your presence, he would hold it close and cherish it. Commit it to memory.

Anything to preserve his loyalty to you. Undying and unyielding.

And now he would get to see his beloved dearest.

Opening the door to your shared room, he poked his head in, scanning the room before his eyes landed on you. You were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair and undressing your self from the day's filth. You looked so at ease there, humming lowly before shaking your hair out and turning to look at him.

"So, gonna give me my welcome home kiss or are you just gonna stand there all night?"

He was taken aback for a second before shaking his own head with a low chuckle, slipping into the room before shutting the door behind him. It clicked lowly, the lock falling into place, as he stepped forward, gently cupping your cheek with one hand before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You hummed happily, smiling against his own lips as you stood, making him straighten with you. One of his hands eventually landed on your hips while your own wrapped around his neck. Every part of this felt so right. Righteous in a sense. Like this was a religious experience. You fit perfectly against him.

He knew you were his. Sculpted by the Golden Three for him and him alone.

And oh, how he treasured you.

When you pulled away, chin laying on his collarbone, he swore he could see the stars in your eyes. Constellations that wrote your story, laid it out for him in a collection of shapes and colors. He loved your eyes.

He loved you.

"I've missed you, princess." He hummed, gently swaying side to side for a second as he moved his hands to wrap around your waist. They squeezed you closer to him as he leaned down, following you when your arched backwards just a bit, so he could rub his nose against yours. You laughed, cradling his jaw. "I missed you too, pretty boy. How was work?"

Who cared about work when he had you in his arms? He'd entertain you, of course, but truly, you shouldn't worry yourself with the pathetic little pests under his command.

"You know how the knights are," He hummed noncommittally, pressing a flurry of kisses to your cheeks, temples, nose, anywhere he deemed acceptable (everywhere with that logic).

"Link!" You squealed, trying to pull away from him as he gently directed you towards the bed. One of his hands slipped further down your waist before grabbing a hand full of your ass and giving it a squeeze. You shout turned from glee to scandalized, making him grin further as he gently nipped the apple of your cheek.

With a small sweep of his foot, he took your own feet out from under you falling with you onto the bed. One of his hands come out to catch his weight as he stared down at you. Gloriously gorgeous you.

Goddes, he loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you.

You were never leaving him. Never. He wouldn't let that happen. He'd burn the very kingdom he had sworn to protect to the ground if you so wished.

Anything to keep you, laughing and smiling you, right here with him.

He pressed another kiss to your smiling lips.

He loves you so much.