#i fucking love games where you get to customize shit and or own a pet

[pansear-doodles]

#sadly i did not grow up with the papa louie games #i fucking love games where you get to customize shit and or own a pet #but sometimes i just play flash games that were cutesy and or pleasing to look at #i didnt like games where it has membership on it because it was so limiting to me as a child and i was poor #so i was very spotty with club penguin animal jam and moshi monsters but i still played them at some points nonetheless #for the multiplayer ones i would often play them with my cousin we would all sit on the same computer butting each others heads #newgrounds was too inappropriate for us at the time so i didnt grow up with that. just flash games found in a website called y8 and y3 #i miss the facebook games so dearly. happy pets was destroyed to the ground by corporate greed and laziness. #horror shooter and generally gory games disturb me as a child. i would rather look for games with cute and easy going themes #anyway ill be surprised if theres someone out there who has played all of these games.

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

15 people, 15 questions

I got tagged by @ppeonppeonhan @wen-kexing-apologist and @troubled-mind a while ago and finally found the peace in mind to answer these quetions. The holidays are always a stressful time and it feels like I don't have any time for myself to do things... I heard it gets worse the older you get and now I am afraid the next years are going to be over in a blink of an eye 😅 There are so many things I want to do! Anyway, thank you for the tag! 🥰

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope. My parents liked the name and that is the whole story 😊

2. When was the last time you cried?

A few days ago I watched Howl's Moving Castle and was crying like a baby. I love this movie and what it does to me!

3. Do you have kids?

No, and I don't want to have kids. I like them, I love my niece and nephew, but I don't want my own.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I have played softball (Pitcher and Third Base) until I moved and didn't like the local team. So I stopped. I did a little bit Krav Maga, but stopped after my friend stopped too. Yeah, I don't like doing such things on my own.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yes. Often and with pleasure.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

It depends? Like appereance wise I guess a facial thing that stands out for me and as soon as I talk to them I listen to their tone and how they talk to me and others.

7. What’s your eye color?

Bluish with a hint of grey and yellow.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I hate scary movies. The last scary movie I watched was The Grudge 2 and that fucked with my brain. After the Exorcist I couldn't sleep in peace for a long time. So no horror for me. I do love Vampires and Witches and don't mind those scary movies and Sc-Fi is totally fine with me too - I love the Alien movies, could watch them over and over again (Part 2 is my favorite), but I hate movies like Event Horizon... So I go with happy endings. I love happy endings, but I have watched enough queer movies to appreciate a good sad ending in the right setting. Not every fucking story needs a sad ending, movie industry! There are happy queer stories! Tell them please! One reason why I love bl so much 😊

9. Any talents?

I try to be more self-confident, so: I have many different talents. I have a talent for seeing the beauty in a bad situation. I can comfort my friends and family and give them good advices and make people laugh. I have a talent to learn. I do have different talents and I am proud of them and I would love others to see themselfes with more patience and love and kindness to own their talents, to be proud of them, even though they think, this is lame or nothing special.

10. Where were you born?

Germany. This should be enough information.

11. What are your hobbies

Whatching beautiful series and talk about them or photoshop the shit out of my favorite scenes. And I do have a life besides all that (even if I don't know how I manage to have social contacts with this many shows to watch 😅). But I do Journaling (Bullet Journal and Junk Journal) and I play some "The Dark Eye" and other pen & paper roll-playing games with my friends.

12. Do you have any pets?

No. I always wanted a cat, but I just realised this isn't a good idea. I love to travel and I don't want my pet to be stressed because there are other people coming to their home to feed them and don't play with them and so on. And I work fulltime and won't have that much time for the pet. I do take care of the pets from friends, but most of the times I just move to their homes for the period and spend the days and nights with their beloved pets so they don't feel lonely. It is like a little vacation for me too 😅

13. How tall are you?

I am a tall girl.

14. Favorite subject in school?

German, sports, philosophy and arts.

15. Dream job?

I had so many over the years. But right now I dream of having my own little queer book store with one or two cats and coffee, tea and hot chocolate for the customers and on weekends I would sell selfmade cookies or cake. That would be so lovely.

I don't know who of you already done this one. I am still tagging you and if you have, please just tag me in a comment so I can read a little bit about you 🥰 And as always: If you don't want to play along, just ignore me 🤍 @pose4photoml @leonpob @nieves-de-sugui @bl-bam-beyond @maxescheibechlinichacheli

#tag game #personal #about me #15 questions #thank you for the tags! 🧡

[seijorhi]

insidious

Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)

tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle

Atsumu’s never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he can’t be the only one who notices there’s something real fuckin’ weird about your relationship with Hinata.

Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasn’t paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. It’s why he’s got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesn’t do distractions.

And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dude’s a monster for him to unleash and he’d love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5’7” excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redhead’s impossible not to get along with. 

There’s a few guys on the team that have partners – fuck, Meian’s even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesn’t hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that he’s never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session. 

You do. 

Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, you’re there, sitting in the stands, just… watching. It’s not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks it’s cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesn’t seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive. 

But it’s just– they train six days a week. It’s long hours and a lot of it’s just drills and exercising till they’re dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You don’t take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train. 

Day in, day out. 

There ain’t a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. It’s more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as you’re focused and they don’t make a fuss.

You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up. 

“Don’tcha think it’s weird though?” he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. “She moved with him from Brazil, didn’t she?” 

Atsumu shrugs, “And?”

“She doesn’t have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,” he says – slowly, like Atsumu’s an idiot. 

And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because he’s pretty sure you weren’t from Brazil to begin with) but it’s not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasn’t his own, Atsumu’s always been good at finding his feet. 

But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though it’s really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, ‘cause whenever he turns around, it’s the redhead who’s the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like he’ll just die if he’s not touching you every second you’re together.

It’s either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu can’t figure out which. 

You’d think it’s his first relationship or something, that he’s stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what he’s heard the two of you have been together for years now – that’s just the way Hinata is, apparently.

He shouldn’t be too surprised; the guy’s always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, he’s got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but they’re a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets. 

You’re not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, don’t shrug it off or shrink away – at least, not from what he’s noticed – but Atsumu hasn’t seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinata’s got you all bundled up in his arms.

And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you don’t fight it, you never seem… entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the ‘stop, we’re in public, please don’t’ kinda way, but–

He can’t put a finger on it. 

You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him.

If he hadn’t met you, hadn’t known that you’d been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, he’d be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. It’s not a bad plan, as far as these things go – find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesn’t know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you don’t strike him as the money hungry type.

You don’t strike him as anything, and maybe that’s part of the issue.

Hinata’s like a sun; he’s gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. That’s normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others – they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but you… 

Fuck, why does it even matter?

Why does it bother him? It ain’t his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy – he’d have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you – and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why can’t he shake this feeling in his gut that something ain’t right there?

It ain’t his relationship, and Atsumu’s not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

It ain’t his relationship.

It’s not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.

You aren’t his problem. Fuck, you’ve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! There’s no reason for why he can’t get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind. 

“Just admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchin’ about it,” Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. “Yer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya don’t feel guilty about it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Shut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ain’t like that!”

He’s not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks you’re hot, but that’s not what this is about. Never has been. 

It’s quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but there’s nobody on earth who knows him better. 

Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. “What’re ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinata’s hurting her or somethin’?”

Yes. 

No.

He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumu’s had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinata’s not– 

He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, it’s with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesn’t understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. He’s never seen bruises littering your skin – at least, not the kind that Samu’s worried about. You don’t flinch away from Hinata’s touch. 

(You never look comfortable though. Never happy – not like Hinata is.)

No. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesn’t doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

He wouldn’t.

“No, ‘course not! I just…” he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what he’s been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samu’s just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. “I get the feeling she doesn’t wanna be there. She’s smiling and sitting there all pretty, but it’s just… I dunno, it’s just weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say much after that, but he doesn’t really need to. He knows what his brother’s thinking. If you weren’t happy, you’d leave. If Hinata wasn’t treating you right, you’d leave. You’d tell someone. But it ain’t that simple, is it? 

Atsumu’s always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. 

The first game of the season’s a slam dunk, and while they’re usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. He’s not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinata’s arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench. 

Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drink’s shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You aren’t his problem, you aren’t his girl, and he’s definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinata’s front, the wing spiker’s hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck. 

And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. It’s jealousy.

He’s played one of the best games of his life today, his team’s fucking amazing, the music’s good and the alcohol is free flowing – he should be happy. And there’s absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.

It shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the men’s. He’s midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that he’s barely paying attention to, and there’s a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samu’s) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but he’s taller than you, taking up your space and he isn’t imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile. 

He doesn’t imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in. 

You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one you’ve been nursing since you arrived and he watches – watches – as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. “Miya,” you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “Congratulations on the win.”

It’s so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl. 

“Atsumu,” he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else – nobody who knows him – does. He can’t bear the sound of it on your lips, like you’re nothing more than strangers. 

He’s talked to you before, right? Surely. 

You’re just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others – if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if you’re even aware of. You might be able to fool the others – admittedly, they’re probably not paying you too much attention – but he’s used to picking up on the smallest details. 

And he’s become real good at reading you these past few weeks.

“So tell me, how’d the two of ya meet?” he asks instead, because he’s rushed in here with no game plan and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care about the answer; now that he’s finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk. 

“Oh, um,” you swallow, ducking your head so you’re not meeting his gaze anymore. “It’s a little embarrassing–”

A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumu’s heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, “It’s not embarrassing, babe, it’s cute!” 

Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. He’s done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinata’s staring at him like every thought he’s ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.

And you – you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinata’s stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. It’s a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, you’re rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that he’s right. 

“Tell him,” Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.

His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. “O-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them – got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.” You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, “He was my knight in shining armour.”

Hinata preens as you smile, but it’s still wrong. Atsumu’s seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and he’ll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you can’t fake everything. 

With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romantic–

It’s too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before he’s shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meian’s concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.

The late summer night air’s warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like it’s a lifeline. 

You’re fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he can’t let this go, can’t get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumu’s always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesn’t even know?

He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. It’s not his problem you’ve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.

But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face. 

He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like he’s gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his head’s subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and he’d follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesn’t remember his own name.

And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in – to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least that’d be easier.

But he won’t.

Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.

Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but that’s not what makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinata’s hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.

It’s the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure – or pain – biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeup’s smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows it’s a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. You’re shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.

And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips move–

Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesn’t stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention he’s paying it. He can’t look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinata’s thumb rubs at your puffy clit.

Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammate’s arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumu’s stare.

And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesn’t have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.

It’s enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching – put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu can’t do a single thing but turn and flee.

Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinata’s fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids. 

—

He doesn’t utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesn’t so much as meet Hinata’s eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.

He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isn’t ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.

And you’re still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.

Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He can’t afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second he’s not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way you’d bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinata’s fingers. The cute little noises you made – the ones he couldn’t hear but spent all fucking night imagining.

And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he can’t stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like he’s making sure you’re still there, that you’re okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.

He can’t help himself, and he’s not the only one who notices. 

“Dude, you good?” Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, there’s a flicker of indignation – whatever’s going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; he’s killing it. 

It’s not until the wing spiker’s attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows you’re sitting that he realises that’s not what Bokkun’s worried about.

“Look, I get it, she’s cute and all, but…” Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. “You might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyone’s sake.”

The irony of it all doesn’t escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokuto’s noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and they’re all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he can’t seem to muster it. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out instead.

Two days later he’s halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Sho, no. I-I don’t wanna–”

“Shh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?” 

A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumu’s bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.

The spray of the shower isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinata’s cock. And he can’t move, can’t make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammate’s lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.

His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.

You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way it’d swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cock’s already throbbing, aching. 

He’s only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. You’re making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesn’t give a shit anymore, you’re driving him to the brink and he’s helpless to stop this.

He can see it so perfectly in his head, how you’d look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way you’d massage his balls as he fucked your face, how you’d choke on it. You’d be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him off–

Hinata’s chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.

He doesn’t care anymore, can’t hold himself back. It’s blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.

His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from it’s racing high. 

And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumu’s left with the weight of what he’s just done.

Distantly, he registers that it’s quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinata’s murmuring something to you, but Atsumu can’t make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.

He should hate himself. 

He just might, actually.

And it’s not enough to scrub until his skin’s raw and he doesn’t feel it crawling anymore, doesn’t matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.

Hinata’s still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once you’re not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesn’t think he can bear to see you after what he’s just done.

But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, “Seeya tomorrow, Atsumu!”

And he feels filthy all over again.

#dark haikyuu #dark hinata x reader #dark hinata shoyo x reader #dark atsumu x reader #dark atsumu miya x reader #tw non con #tw dub con #tw voyeurism #tw yandere #trying out some new tags #don't mind me

[angelicimagines]

(Regular Ask | Any Mod) Post-Game Hajime, Nagito, Gundham, Sonia, and Akane dating the Ultimate Enologist who always plays tricks on them with swapping their drinks (innocently). Like; Hajime being asked to taste their new concoction, and it's literally just orange juice/favorite drink with no sweetener/additives, LOL.

Hello there Anon. This reminds me a lot of those "potions" that we all made when we were kids but they were really just soap and some other stuff mixed with water. I also took some creative liberties with this one cuz I had to mix it up a bit. Here's your request. In other news tumblr crashed on me in the middle of this and deleted a whole ass section. I am ready to fight god with only primal rage as my weapon. -Mod Shuichi

(Post–Game) Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Gundham Tanaka, Sonia Nevermind, Akane Owari with a playful Ultimate Enologist!S/O.

Hajime Hinata🍊

🍊 Is immediately suspicious of you. You served him a glass of your new "concoction" but it just tasted like orange juice. Does he look like an idiot to you? 🍊 Begins "interrogating" you about the drink like you're in a trial. You must be the ultimate actor because your acting skills were top notch during the questioning. 🍊 He's out of truth bullets, shit. You got lucky this time, he has his eye on you. 🍊 He is also a massive hypocrite. 🍊 He loves watching others' reactions to your "concoctions". You usually pull this trick when they have already tried some of your original work, so they definitely don't expect to taste lemon juice in what is supposed to be a glass of your newest work. 🍊 Tries to hold in his laughter because then it would look suspicious, like you two were up to something. Maybe in the future though. 🍊 Back on track, he just knows you're paying tricks on him and wants to confront you about it, but… 🍊 Man's a simp. You're just so happy whenever someone falls for your tricks and you genuinely have a passion for creating and pranking and who is he to stop your fun. 🍊 When you do pull the trick on him, y'all have a back and forth debate on whether or not the drink is actually a new creation or apple juice. 🍊 You insist it's a new concoction and he goes "NO THAT'S WRONG!" Oh shit, he's onto you. Rethink your strategy stat! 🍊 You gave him something actually original and said it was "orange juice". 🍊 He drinks it, blinks a few times, and then glares at you. You apparently have a deathwish because you lean closer to his face and feign innocence, batting your eyelashes at him while asking what's wrong. 🍊 You expected another interrogation or maybe a "listen here you little shit", not a kiss on the lips. A surprise to be sure. 🍊 That was the start of a routine. Everytime you played your tricks on him, he'd pull you in and kiss you. You didn't know why he did that, but it was a fun way to get kisses. 🍊 If you ask him, he'd say he wanted you to taste teste your new drink <3

Nagito Komaeda☘️

☘ Very conflicted on how to feel. On one hand, he is sure what he is drinking is not the liquor you said it was; but on the other, who is he to doubt an ultimate? ☘ Plays along and congratulates you on your drink, saying it was very tasty. Bonus points if you do this trick in front of others and they're saying it's plain juice and not whatever fancy name you had said. ☘ Lowkey loves when others argue about your drinks. He always takes your side and it's hilarious. ☘ "I'm telling you that's not wine, it's cranberry juice!" ☘ "It's wine, if the Ultimate Enologist says so then it's wine. Did you spend years studying wines and their craft?" ☘ "I'M NOT AN IDIOT THAT'S CRANBERRY JUICE!" ☘ After a few more tricks he figures it out. You're playing a prank on him huh. ☘ He lets you know by saying thanks for the juice instead of whatever it is you said it was. ☘ You almost dropped the glass you were holding. He thought it was due to his luck, but he let it pass. Your face was just too funny to let the opportunity pass. ☘ Even though he knows, he still plays pretend from time to time. One because it makes you happy and two because you have to keep the illusion going for the others. ☘ You bargained with him over that last point. You promised him cuddles (after lot's of convincing that he did deserve them) in exchange for him acting along when you pulled your trick on others. ☘ Now he gets your cuddles, free drinks, and gets to witness your funny moments when you pull the prank on others. Man he really is lucky. ☘ If you name a drink after him or if one of your drinks is inspired by him he'll cry. Will refuse to drink it himself. ☘ You also share a drink that you say it's a new wine but it's really just dyed water. Others are confused by your couple ritual but y'all are happy so who cares. ☘ Nothing makes him happier than hugging you while you work on your drinks though, it fills him with hope <3

Gundham Tanaka🐹

🐹 Is convinced you're working with dark magic. You made wine taste like orange juice, what type of sorcery do you practice? 🐹 Asks you to see the process to check for magic. Oh no, you're fucked. 🐹 Or so it seems. When he's not looking you swap the drinks and keep the illusion going. He has yet to find out. 🐹 You sometimes pretend to add blood (red food coloring) to the decorations of the glass you serve your drink in and pour a special wine into them to make it look like blood. 🐹 People are convinced you two are vampires because of this. 🐹 You make non alcoholic drinks for the Devas in exchange for protection and a special place in his dark realm. You can also pet the devas free of repercussions. 🐹 Is insulted when someone even dares to suspect your drinks aren't really anything new. How dare they question the work of his soul's chosen companion sorry Hajime. 🐹 Very confused as to why others argue with you over your drinks. He is certain the contents of that glass are not apple juice, it's your new concoction inspired by the Devas. 🐹 The day he finds out your secret is the day the apocalypse began (not really but it felt like it). 🐹 You were preparing your drinks for the trick and waiting for him. He decided to surprise you by showing up a bit earlier and that resulted in him catching you mid switch. 🐹 Kept staring at you and the drink back and forth repeatedly, until the information was processed. 🐹 He's been tricked, sabotaged, and quite possibly bamboozled. 🐹 Began to doubt your status as a mortal and started having a crisis. In front of two perfectly fine drinks but ok. You came clean after that and he feigned betrayal. Even got the devan in on it too. 🐹 Both of you acted like it was a scene from a telenovela while trying to hold in y'alls laughter. You eventually got to the part where you begged for forgiveness. 🐹 Will forgive you on one condition, you pull that trick on Souda <3

Sonia Nevermind👑

👑 Before you even got to pull your tricks on her you were already her own personal enologist. Only the best for a princess. 👑 Does notice that your concoctions taste strangely like every day juices you can buy from the store, but she decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. 👑 Loves it when you do it to others though. She might not know what is happening but watching you argue with Fuyuhiko over what you just served him is hilarious. 👑 Gets whiplash whenever you pull your trick right after a formal event. You serve a magnificent cocktail never seen or tasted before and the next second you serve her what tastes like pineapple juice. 👑 You come to her for inspiration on what drinks to do next, it mostly involves references to the occult disguised as fancy people drinks. 👑 Does she find out about your secret? Yep 👑 She was looking for you to spend quality time together when she say you pour a glass of peppermint lemonade and label it as "new drink". 👑 Someone walked up to your stand and asked to try said drink and you served them the lemonade. They were extremely confused and from there a discussion started. 👑 She scurried away before you could catch her, equally as confused as the poor customer you just served. 👑 The next day, she asked to try some of your drinks and they all tasted like normal drinks. What happened to your awesome concoctions you served during parties? 👑 She's on a mission now, she's gonna get to the bottom of this mystery. 👑 One time, while you weren't looking, she snuck into your storage room to confirm her suspicion and found you working on your new wine (legit this time). 👑 You didn't seem to mind she had snuck into your storage room and invited her over to see the process. After that was done you offered her a glass as a taste test. 👑 She took a sip and it tasted like…mango juice? When she looked at you with a confused expression you laughed and offered her a glass of the actual drink. 👑 In that moment she realized she doesn't mind your tricks that much, if it makes you smile that brightly she'll always for for it <3

Akane Owari🤸

🤸 She would gulp down anything that you "concocted" for her because she loves you and you make killer drinks. 🤸 Would probably "get drunk" on whatever you decided to give her because of placebo effects and whatnot. 🤸 It is very fun to give her something like lemon water and saying it's a new type of tequila and you want her to do the honors of taste testing it. 🤸 Gladly does it and comments that it takes a bit like lemon. Then gives suggestions to other flavour you could add in your "tequila". 🤸 Others have tried to convince her it wasn't a new concoction because after the ntheenth time she had fallen for the trick it got a bit worrying. 🤸 She denies it every time. 🤸 One time you were serving her a glass of your new "drink" that was really just apple juice dyed to look like fine wine. 🤸 "Thanks for drink S/O, it looks delicious!" 🤸 You try to supress your giggles as she drank the whole thing and gave you back the glass. 🤸 She did comment that it "kinda tastes like apple juice" but that theory was dismissed due to the color of the drink. 🤸 Your plan fell right into place, good for you. Though the cheering had to be reserved for another time. 🤸 That time would be when you were cleaning the dishes because it gave you some alone time to cheer on your victory and you had a bunch of glasses to clean. 🤸 As you left with her empty glass in hand to get started on the dishes, Akane smiled to herself and lighty chuckled at the recent exchange 🤸 Plot twist, she knew that you were just messing with her. She played along with you because you always had the brightest smile whenever serving her a drink and she loved seeing you happy. 🤸 She just wants to see you happy, plus she gets free drinks <3

#mod shuichi #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 #goodbye despair x reader #danganronpa2 #danganronpa 2 x reader #super danganronpa 2 #goodbye despair #danganronpa goodbye despair #gundham tanaka x reader #gundham x reader #gundham tanaka #hajime x reader #hajime hinata x reader #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada x reader #nagito x reader #sonia nevermind #sonia nevermind x reader #sonia x reader #akane x reader #akane owari #akane owari x reader

[feralaot]

If all the characters lived together in one house who would be roommates and what weird dynamics would they all have with each other?

this turned out pretty long so if you want a part 2 just ask

AOT but oh my god they were roommates

mentions of drugs and alcohol

modern

alright, where to begin... jean wanted his own room but connie literally BEGGED him to be roommates because connie has always wanted bunkbeds with someone. so, naturally, jean and connie are roommates that have bunkbeds, and connie is the top bunk.

sasha and eren both snore noticeably loud so eren has to sleep in the basement and sasha sleeps on the couch. unfortunately zeke also sleeps in the basement so he has to deal with that and is usually the first one in the house to wake up because of it so he usually drinks before bed to sleep a little heavier. pieck sleeps on the couch opposite to sasha but she’s a heavy sleeper so the snoring doesn’t bother her

at first, mikasa was roommates with eren and armin (before eren was evicted to the basement) and annie was roommates with reiner and bertholdt. however eren and armin always stayed up playing video games really loudly and reiner and bertholdt weren’t discreet whatsoever so mikasa and annie ended up becoming roommates with each other

hange straight up sleeps in the garage. nobody’s car is allowed in the garage because that’s where hange has their “workshop” with all their tools, in-progress experiments, work stations, and their cot. don’t worry they love it in there because they can be as messy as possible without levi complaining. levi sleeps in the attic with his cat

other than armin, porco is the only one with a room to himself because literally everybody pisses him off if he’s around them for more than a few hours. he is referred to as “the wicked bitch” by others in the house and his room is small but quiet so he’s cool with it

jean and connie’s room is right next to armin’s and they smoke weed like every other day so the smell is always wafting right into armin’s room. in rebuttal, armin plays music really loudly because it drives them crazy. eventually they started smoking outside to avoid the wrath of lana del ray afterwards

reiner and zeke are ALWAYS getting into arguments over dumb shit and they make it everybody else’s problem. bertholdt and eren have been dragged into several discussions about whether pluto is a planet, if tomatoes are fruits or vegetables, who the fuck drank the rest of the milk, etc

eren and zeke are the only cishets in a house full of lgbts so if anyone visits it’s kind of odd to them that there’s like 6 different pride flags in the house even though the technical owners are cishets

the warriors all share a master bathroom so naturally a lot of their meds are in the same cabinet and pieck spent a lot of time separating and labeling them with different colors so she doesn’t accidentally take one of reiner’s antidepressants again while looking for benadryl

reiner and bertholdt’s room looks as if you took both of their styles and just mashed them together. the nirvana poster and the david bowie poster are right next to each other. they have two huge bookcases, one full of books and the other full of video games. believe it or not, the books are reiner’s and the games are bert’s. they’re both nerds but in different fonts

the house pets include a ball python, a gecko, a budgie, and a tarantula, belonging to armin, porco, historia, and eren, respectively. there’s also a few cats that just kind of exist and everybody respects them as members of the “family”

sometimes eren walks around the house with his tarantula sitting on his head and it makes armin SCREECH because even though she’s docile he hates spiders. however eren hates snakes and is scared of armin’s ball python so I guess it’s fair

annie and mikasa customize furbies together so they have a bunch of furby cryptids in their room that they sometimes leave around the house for shits and giggles. one time reiner opened the fridge only to find a furby with barbie arms and legs and he screamed

they all take turns grocery shopping and jean, connie, and sasha absolutely dread when it’s historia’s turn to get the groceries because she always makes them eat healthy stuff and doesn’t buy junk food

ymir is one of the biggest alcoholics in the house so sometimes sasha and pieck have to find somewhere else to sleep because occasionally when ymir gets drunk she pushes the couches together and sprawls out across them to sleep

#im sorry this is so long #too many ideas. part 2 in the future perhaps #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #attack on titan #aot #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirschstein #sasha braus #connie springer #historia reiss #ymir #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #annie leonhart #porco galliard #pieck #pieck finger #zeke jaeger #anon #requests #feralshcs

[theaviskullguy]

Ink and Petals

@dapple-dualies-propaganda here's the au

Tattoo artist! Rider x Florist! Goggles

hope you enjoy!

---------

When was it not busy at Squid ink?

It was one of the top Tattoo Parlors in Inkopolis. and it was also on a pretty busy street. So, it got a lot of customers. Also the fact that one of the artists was a famous turfer.

Rider hadn't formerly retired, but he had eased out of playing Turf Wars. He had found other interests outside of the sport: Theater, art, reviewing old movies online... He still did Turf from time to time, albeit the adult league. He was too old for the more popular teen division.

So, he found a job as a tattoo artist. And he rather loved it. Not only did most of his friends consult him for tattoo advice (from where the best places are to good designs), but he also knew some gossip. One of his regulars had beef with her neighbor because he has a pet raccoon who keeps stealing her trash and Rider could NOT wait to hear more about this story.

Another thing was, well, Rider had seen some shit. From people covered head to toe in tats, to people eagerly wanting their first tattoo, even to shyer folk who wanted one to defy controlling parents or to mark something important.

None of that prepared Rider for the news he got when tattooing one of the customers. More specifically, Gloves.

You see, Gloves had been coming in for the past few days. They had wanted a pretty complicated butterfly tat, so for the last 3 days Rider has been exchanging stories with the resident enby about... pretty much anything.

This is how this exchange happened;

"So you remember Goggles, right?" Gloves asked.

Rider rolled his eyes. "What, you think I'd forget the guy who kept pulling down my pants?"

"Oh ha ha. Anyways, apparently he works at that flower shop now."

"...He what?"

"You heard me!" They said. "I went there yesterday to get something for a project and there was Goggles! He misses you, 'ya know!"

Rider was just. quiet. He hadn't talked to his crush in a while, contact dwindled when Rider stopped doing Turf as much. Never once did he think Goggles would miss him, but that was probably the self hatred talking.

"...I'll think about it." Was all Rider said.

The conversation continued like nothing happen; Gloves saying multiple cursed things and Rider sharing interesting stories he heard on his job. Time flew by and soon, the tattoo was done; a butterfly with the bi colors on one wing and the nb colors on the other. Rider was quite proud of it, and Gloves seemed to like it. They waved, and left the store, humming to themselves.

Rider looked at the clock. His shift ended in just a few minutes. He knew he had no other appointments that day, so he took to watching old recorded matches in his phone.

Those were over a decade ago. Yet he still remembered everything. His favorite part was still learning he won a match by such a small margin. It was just... amazing.

He sighed. Rider missed those battles. But he has to say, he missed his crush a bit more.

He clocked out, saying goodbye to the other employee-Cherry (business relationships were easy to maintain when your coworkers were your siblings), and headed towards the flower shop for more reasons than one.

Army had a performance the next day. And yeah, Rider knew it was romantic, but platonically giving your best friend flowers was always nice. Plus, he wanted an excuse to see Goggles again.

He looked into the shop-the blue inkling was nowhere to be seen, but then again neither was the front desk. So, Rider shrugged and stepped in.

The floral scent was strong, but not overwhelming. Plenty of blossoms lined the stands, along with tags of what the flowers were and what they meant.

Rider looked around, trying to remember which flowers Army liked again, when he heard a familiar, youthful voice.

"Hi! Need any help?"

The inkling turned around. Goggles had definitely changed since Rider last saw him; his tentacles were longer and in an actual bun, for once. His blue eyes still had that clarity, and he still had that goofy smile. Though he didn't seem to recognize Rider.

"Uhh... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to remember what flower my friend likes the most." He said, hoping his accent didn't give him away; there weren't many in Inkopolis with an Australian accent.

But, Goggles didn't seem to notice or care. "Oh, okay!"

Rider internally breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward if Goggles recognized him.

He looked around the shop, before spotting a bouquet of lilies. He knew Army liked lilies. If they weren't his favorite flower, it'd be close enough.

Rider took a few of the bigger ones, and a few white roses for variety, and took them to the counter.

Goggles smiled. "This a special occasion?"

"Not exactly. Just, my friend's doing a performance for a musical and I wanted to get him something for it." Rider explained.

"What musical?" Gogs asked, arranging the flowers with a sheer, white ribbon tying them together.

"Hadestown. He got Eurydice."

"Oh! I went to go see it last night! Army's amazing at that role. He's your friend, right?"

Rider internally panicked, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't Army's only friend. "Yeah. We've been friends for a while now."

"Well, tell him I said hi!" He handed the bouquet to Rider. "On me, alright? It's for a friend anyways!"

Rider nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome!"

------

A few weeks went by. Rider occasionally stopped at the flower shop and got flowers for...well, no real reason. He'd use them to add color to his house, or give them to friends. He just wanted an excuse to see Goggles.

He'd talked to the blue inkling a bit more, too. He'd gotten into the business since, well, he really liked flowers, and he wanted a job where he could just...relax! He still did Turf, of course, but the Adult league was more serious than the teen one, and he just wanted to have fun instead of be expected to take a game seriously.

He still didn't recognize Rider. The yellow-green inkling was a bit hurt by this, to be honest.

Though, it was a bit startling when Goggles actually walked into Rider's work. And Rider was assigned to give Goggles his first tattoo: A blue jay on his shoulder, taking off from a branch.

This time, it was Goggles' turn to ask questions as Rider worked.

"Sooo.... you've been coming into my shop for a while and I still don't know your name!" The blue inkling stated. "I mean, you can probably recognize me though!"

Rider shrugged. "Well, who can forget Goggles of the Idiot Blue team?"

Goggles giggled. "You do know me! I still don't know you!!"

"...I can assure you, we've met before that day I got Army flowers." Rider said.

"Ooh! Can I try and guess who you are?"

"Ehh, why not."

"Okay! Umm..." Goggles thought for a moment. "Clams facemask?"

Rider shook his head. "Nope."

"Inkfall?"

"Wrong."

"Eging Jr?"

"Not even close there."

"Stealth Goggles?"

"Getting closer, I'll give you that."

"....Rider?" Goggles asked.

Rider chuckled. "Took you long enough, idiot."

Goggles smiled wide. "I finally found you! Hi Riri!"

"Hey, Gogs. It's been a while."

"Yeah! I'm a bit surprised I didn't recognize you, since we were pretty close!" Goggles stated.

Rider shrugged. "Well, I'm not the most memorable person anyways."

"Riderrrrr don't say that!" Goggles said. "You're still really popular!"

"To some people, maybe. Not everyone."

There was a tense silence, other than the hum of the tattoo needle as it made the drawing.

"....So." Goggles started again. "How's life?"

"It's...well, better than it was." Rider said. "Got my own place, for one. Though it gets a bit lonely.. You?"

"I'm still living in an apartment. I really want a roommate!" Goggles proclaimed. "Maybe we could move in together?"

"..I'll think about it, Gogs. Though it might be fun being your roommate."

"Really? Thanks Rider!" Goggled smiled.

The conversation grew more casual. Rider enjoyed it; turns out Goggles had his fair share of gossip. It was kinda cool.

And as the next few days passed, Rider looked forward to each of those sessions. His crush seemed to go from "this person would be fun to date i think" to "hOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS IM IN L O V E", and it didn't help that during those meetings, Goggles had to be shirtless.

The days turned into weeks and months. Goggles moved in with Rider, and the two became incredibly close friends.

And, it came to a head near valentines day. Goggles' shop was very busy, as expected. Luckily, Squid Ink wasn't as much.

So, on his day off, just before Valentines, Rider headed to the flower shop and got a bouquet of roses. Cliché to confess on Valentines day, Rider knew, but he's a pining gay cut him some slack.

And Rider came home right as Goggles was leaving for his shift. So, that left Rider with a good 3 hours to practice his confession.

"Alright, Rider. This has to be CASUAL. 'Hey, I've liked you for over a decade but just now had the confidence to confess!' No, too creepy sounding. 'Yo, Gogs. I really like you and maybe we could go out to dinner sometimes?' ...Too casual."

....Yeah, this went on for a while.

Rider groaned, collapsing his his bed. "I wish feelings were fucking easier...I should just call Army."

So, he grabbed his phone and selected the contact, Veronica Sawyer Kinnie

"C'mon, Army... pick up."

And not one ring later, "Rider, what is it?"

"...I need romantic help. Please." Rider asked.

"Look, just because I'm married to Aloha, doesn't mean I know how I ended up here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that." He stated. "Still. I really need some help."

Army sighed. "Who is it? It's totally that one person with the raccoon story-"

"Actually, no. It's, um.... It's Goggles."

The octoling on the other end of the line could be heard sighing. "Still a morosexual I see."

"OI! You're the one who married a fuckin himbo!"

".....Touché. Still, there's a difference."

Rider huffed. "Just... give me some advice. I wanna confess to him tomorrow but I've got no idea how. I'm giving him roses, but like, there's gotta be something more I could do, y'know?"

"Have you tried asking Prince?" Army suggested. "He is the one with the obsession with rom coms and romance novels."

"This is his exam period, Army. I'm not about to potentially interrupt a cram session by asking for romantic advice!"

"Fair enough. I'd say...well, just rip off the band aid. Like... 'Hey, Goggles, I really like you and was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend.'"

"...Thanks, Arm. I'll, uh, give it a try."

-------

Rider couldn't sleep that well. Mainly out of anticipation.

He was gonna confess to his crush of...over a decade, at least. He didn't fuckin know what was gonna happen!

Like, would Goggles reciprocate? Would he hate Rider after it? WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN-

He sighed. He needed to get his mind off this shit.

Rider looked over to his bedside clock: 5AM. 5 hours before his shift. 5 hours to get his shit together and plan for confessing to the world's cutest but also dumbest man later that night.

C'mon, Rider. Think. Army said to rip it off like a band aid, but Goggles might find that a little sudden and out of the blue. He could write a letter and leave it for Goggles when he went to his shift (The flower shop was closed on Valentines day). That would be a safe option.

Rider sat up, and got out a piece of paper and pencil, writing a note.

"Hey, Goggles.

There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. I really, really like you. As in, a crush.

I totally get it if you don't like me back, or think I'm weird, but hey, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out to dinner or something. Probably not tonight cause of Valentine's day but maybe tomorrow night or something.

-Rider"

Quickly, he folded it and wrote Goggles' name, putting a little heart sticker on it. It was corny, but hey, Rider had to use up those stickers somehow.

Rider attached it to the roses, and kept it on his desk.

And so, the morning went as normal. He had breakfast, got out of his pjs, put his hair up... the usual.

But as Rider left to go to work, he left the note and rose on the table, and left the house quickly.

During the day, he nearly forgotten all about it; He caught up with the gossip-Apparently the neighbor with the raccoon and the regular were now dating. So that was a nice little end to the story.

Squid Ink wasn't AS busy-probably because it was Valentines day, people were spending it with their lovers, not getting inked up (unless they made the appointment when single)

And it was near the end of Rider's shift when he heard his name mentioned. Probably someone making an appointment before he heard the familiar voice of Goggles going "Okay!!"

The blue inkling walked over to his station. "Hi Ridey!!"

"...Hey, Gogs. Getting another tat?" Rider asked, trying to keep his cool.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"A'ight anything specific in mind or-"

"Can I get just a simple quote one?"

Rider nodded. "Where do you want it?"

Goggles pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly. "Right here, please!"

"Okay. Just try to keep holding that down so I don't mess up.

-----

And so, tattoo conversations ensued.

The quote Goggles had wanted was a simple Pride one, that said "love is love". It was discreet, but a bit of it could be seen poking out if Goggles ever wore a v-neck.

"So, any plans for tonight?" Rider asked, trying to keep things subtle. Maybe Goggles hadn't read the note yet.

The blue inkling nodded. "Kinda! I had mental plans buuuuut nothing serious."

Rider raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"..I m-mean, I still have to ask him.." Goggles' face turned a shade of blue, and he averted his gaze.

"....Can I guess who he is?"

"If ya can!"

He smiled. "Does his name have an R in it?" Rider had a guess it was himself, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!"

"Got an accent?"

"Yep!!"

"Is he doing your tattoo?"

"....y-yeah?" Goggles sheepishly smiled. "I'm n-not that discreet, am I?"

Rider chuckled, but on the inside he was screeching. "Honestly? I had no clue myself."

"Really? I've been dropping the most obvious hints!"

"...Like what?" Rider asked, now a bit curious.

"Welllll I've been picking movies you like during movie night, I've made sure to get your drink on coffee runs, Oh! And I offered to cook dinner that one time!" Goggles stated.

"...Damn. I'm just oblivious then." The former dynamo user laughed, before turning off the needle. "There. It's all done." Rider held up a mirror for the blue boy.

Goggles' face lit up. "Whoa! It looks amazing!!! Thanks Riri!"

Rider smiled. "You're welcome. Now, uh, ...did you read my note?"

"..Y-yeah, I did. And, um...I like you too Rider!!" The blue man pressed a small, quick kiss to Rider's cheek.

Rider blushed. "S-so, you'll let me t-take you out?"

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"I...thanks, Gogs."

"You're welcome Riri!!!"

----------

aAAAAA RUSHED END

but like. hope yall enjoy!

#Galax Writes #tattoo artist x florist #splatoon #coroika #coroika rider #coroika goggles #goggles x rider

[lunarliza]

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 1: Popsicles

fuckboy!JJ x Reader 

series masterlist

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

note: so this is my second JJ fic! I’m so excited for ya’ll to read it. it’ll be more light-hearted and shorter than DLS :) 

“Come on... come on! This one right here let’s go!” you yelped. The crowd behind you was practically chattering on their fingernails. 

The seven year old boy in the water paddled as hard as his lanky arms could take him towards the daunting wave. 

“Now Gavin now! Stand up!” you shrieked as the boy hurriedly went through your instructed steps, tucking his knee, and thrusting upwards as the wave got close. Then, before he even realized, he glided rigidly along the wave as the board carried him across the water. 

“Hooray! Awesome job Gavin!” The flock cheered and rushed to pat the boy on the back, his dad lifting him up in his arms. 

The child scuttled towards you and threw his arms around your neck. You chuckled delightedly. “Alright everyone! That’s it for our surf lesson today. Be sure to check out the gift shop on your way out!” 

You waved bye to the guests as they made way to return their boards to the hut, some handing you rolled up cash, with thankful smiles. 

Once the coast was clear, you jogged back to the hut only to find Sophia, your best friend and lazy co-worker, lounging with her legs stretched on the checkout counter of the tiny surf shack. She hung a lollipop in her mouth while her eyes glued to her phone screen. 

“You know, when you asked me to find you a job, I actually thought you meant one where you actually work.” 

Sophia popped out the sucker and threw you a glare. “I did work! See!” she pointed her hand at the sign hanging beside the door that read ‘OBX Surf and Sports’, “I put that sign up this morning.” 

“It’s crooked.” 

“Bleh, bleh, bleh,” she mocked, “Nothing I ever do is good enough.” You chuckled and shook your head at her. 

You peered out the giant window at the front of the store, surveying the empty beach. This was going to be the rest of your summer. At sixteen years old, you were one of the Outer Banks’ surfing all-stars and spent your days working as an instructor for the second year in a row. 

Customers loved you and your ability to work with all ages rendering you the title of ‘Top Instructor’ at the shack- which didn’t mean much seeing as 90% of the employees were amateur teenagers. 

Nevertheless, you were determined to keep that title, as whoever brought in the most satisfied customers by the end of the summer wins a $5,000 scholarship. And you needed that money bad in order to attend your dream school: UVA. 

Along the beach, you caught a glimpse of your competition, Cody, and instinctly groaned. 

On any other occasion, you really didn’t care about what people did with their lives, but something about your arrogant, sleazy, five-foot-seven co-worker grinded your gears. 

He was always man-splaining to you and the other girls at the shack or kissing ass to your boss. And you knew well he was after the scholarship too- your scholarship. 

“Look at him,” you sneered to Sophia as she joined you at the window to death-glare the boy. He was prepping his group on the sand for their session and looked absolutely despicable in his shorts that were inches away from exposing his little one. Emphasis on the little. 

“Ugh, he’s making them do jumping jacks again,” Sophia pointed out, crinkling her nose, “God that poor old lady. Can he be any more extra?” 

“I need to look away, I think I might vomit if he ever flashed me.” 

Your best friend snickered at your hatred as you waxed down your board for your next lesson. “Did the group of girls check in yet?” you asked. 

“Yeah, they’re sitting and waiting at Eye Sickles,” she informed, referring to the popsicle food-truck next door. “I can’t believe they really signed up for the month-long surfing program. I didn’t know people actually paid for that.” 

“You’d be surprised. These tourists will buy into anything, trust me,” you said before heading out the door. 

You walked up to three tourist girls lounging on the fold-out tables and chairs at the food-truck. They were mindlessly typing away on their phones, looking as bored as ever. 

“Alright, do I have Annalise, Maia, and Arabella?” you announced with your work-smile on. They peered up from their phones and nodded with blank faces.

“Awesome,” you continued, trying to maintain your enthusiasm, “I’m y/n, I’ll be your instructor! I see you guys signed up for the month-long pro-boarding program which is great. Have you guys ever surfed before?” 

“Nope,” a blonde girl replied, “Our parents found this online and said it’d be good for us to learn while we’re here. We’re from Richmond, Virginia.” 

“Oh cool!” you jeered, the fake zeal was oozing at that point. “Well, I’m happy to be spending the summer with you guys. I’m going to have you guys grab a board and we’ll head down to the sand to go over the basic motions.” 

The trio followed you into the hut and picked out a board from the beginners section. You noticed the blonde one giggling with Sophia at the stand for a bit before joining you on the sand. She had a leader-like quality to her while the two other remained quiet but friendly. 

“Alright so, just for formalities, who’s who? That way I can identify you better,” you asked as the girls situated their boards along the shore.  

Not shockingly, the blonde extended her hand to you first. “I’m Annalise,” she greeted a little sullenly. You shrugged off her attitude, attributing it to her being a bougie tourist. 

“I’m Maia,” a tall, jet-black haired girl said next. She had a very athletic body and came off as the quietest one of the group. 

“And I’m Arabella,” the last one chimed in. Her hair was a fiery orange and she had piercings run along her ears and nose. 

“Alright cool! So now, we’ll start off with the movements you’ll go through once you hit the water. You want to start off flat on your stomach and paddle towards the waves. Make sure you have full control of your board at all times,” you began as the girls copied your demonstration on their own boards. 

You heard sniffles come from the group, but ignored it to continue your spiel. You could hardly read any of their expressions through their giant, bug-eyed sunglasses. 

Just as you were about to explain the importance of balance- you favorite part of the lesson- you saw the blonde sit up on her board in irritation and start sobbing through her glasses. 

“Annalise come on, it’s not worth it,” the tall one, Maia, reasoned as the Annalise shook her head furiously. 

“I can’t do this right now,” she cried before bolting back towards the shack. 

You watched her in utter confusion. “Was it something I said?” you asked the remaining two. 

The orange one shook her head and gave you a sincere look through her glasses. “No, she’s just really upset about this guy,” she turned to her friend, “Come on, let’s go check on her.” 

At that point, you had no choice but to follow the group towards their distressed friend. This was definitely coming out of their session time. 

The three of you plowed up the sand to find the girl, Annalise, sprawled on Sophia’s shoulder at the tables as she cooed her like a baby. You wanted to cringe. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a piece of shit anyways! Trust me, he did the same to me too,” your best friend comforted and petted the stranger’s yellow hair. 

“What’s going on?” you questioned at the scene. Sophia glanced up at you with a pleading look. 

“It’s JJ.” 

Oh brother. This dude again. JJ Maybank was the Outer Bank’s most infamous fuck boy. Him and his friends threw parties all the time at the Boneyard- ones you have yet to attend- and he effortlessly earned his reputation by sleeping with any girl he could get his grubby hands on. 

By this point, he’s broken half the hearts on the island with girls moaning and groaning about him left and right- Sophia included. You remembered her wailing the day he ghosted her after they did the nasty. It wasn’t a pretty day... or week for the matter. 

You didn’t understand what the big deal was with the guy. You’d gone to school with him since the first grade and he’d always been that guy that rolls in the mud during playtime in elementary school. And he still was that guy to this day.

You heard all the cringey lines he’d pull on girls at school that would get them swooning and you swore he was running a voodoo business because no one in their right mind could fall for that. 

But everyone did. Except for you. 

“What? Did he ghost you too?” you gestured towards the wrecked weeping girl.

She nodded and blew her boogers into the tissues Sophia brought out. 

“I-I, well, we met him at a party this weekend and he took me to this little hideout on the beach. He told me that he never met anyone like me before and said all this other shit. Then we had sex there, which I never do in public, and he said he couldn’t wait to see me again. And he never called me after!” 

Though you thought her public display was a little too... public, you did feel sorry for her. The guy was a tool, and these tourist girls, especially, didn’t know any better. 

“Don’t worry,” Sophia assured, resting a hand atop hers, “he did it to me and everyone at school. We all fell for the trap.” 

Maia and Arabella joined the sitting girls in a piled group hug as the ones in the center sputtered in tears together. You couldn’t bear to watch, but for Sophia, you awkwardly joined in anyways. 

The rest of the surfing session consisted of the girls pulling up their own chairs and  bad-mouthing JJ, along with all other men, as everyone licked their popsicles. 

You sucked on your mango one, not minding the little break as it was the easiest $150 you ever made. The girls weren’t as hoity-toity as you first thought. They apologized for wasting your time and promised to leave five-star reviews about you. Even better. 

As evening rolled in, you found yourself laughing and joking around with your new-found friends. They told you wild stories of their private school shenanigans back in Richmond while you and Sophia filled them in on life at the OBX. 

“This day was incredible,” Annalise beamed, dazed after her fourth popsicle. “Can’t believe we all bonded like this over a guy,” she chuckled, “I just... gah, I wish we could get him back somehow. Make him feel how we feel!” 

“You should,” you agreed, “Why don’t one of you guys go to the parties and try to seduce him and then leave him hanging? The trick with men is to withhold sex from them and they’ll be helpless.” 

Everyone’s face lit up in excitement at your idea. “No, totally! We could definitely do that!” Sophia exclaimed with wide eyes. “So who will it be? Who’s our hamster?” 

“Not me,” Maia objected almost instantly, “I have a boyfriend back home so no seducing will be done on my part.” 

“Arabella then,” Annalise suggested, nudging the girl beside her. 

“Alright...” she agreed, fiddling with the string of her bathing suit, “I guess I could take one for the team.” 

“There we go!” you cheered, “You just march straight into that party, grind on him a bit to leave him hanging, then proceed to embarrass the shit out of him! Problem solved!” 

-----------------------------

note: do not worry! more drama to come 

chapter 2

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

[bard-llama]

WiP List (all unpublished)

So, I am 2 fics away from having published 100 fics for the Witcher game ‘verse! And I feel like my 100th fic should be special, so uh... vote on which WiP you’d like me to prioritize, I guess?

Putting the WiPs under a cut because... there’s a lot.

Forgive my working titles pls. I do not try hard with them.

Mostly Porny Fics

Piss fic - Iorveth gets a blowjob before he can mention that he could stand to use the chamber pot. After he comes over Roche’s face, Roche refuses to move - so Iorveth pisses on his crotch.

Cum Dumpster Roche - Emhyr sends Roche to an ‘elven peace conference’ which turns out to actually be an elven ritual involving a gangbang. Where he’s the ‘sacrifice’. He is surprisingly okay with this.

Possessiveness - this one actually could have the beginning published if I can think of a title. It’s essentially about Iorveth feeling very proprietary over HIS dh’oine and Roche... kind of liking that. Also scent marking during their second ever meeting lmao

Dream: Pleasure Slave - Roche has dreams about Iorveth where his only purpose is to bring Iorveth pleasure and show off how good he is for Iorveth.

Roche wears a collar - Iorveth really, really wants to see Roche in his collar, but he knows that will never happen. Doesn’t stop him from custom making a collar just for Roche - and then, serendipidously, he captures Roche and gets to put it on him. But surely Roche isn’t STILL wearing it... right? (he totes is)

Tonguefucking the dick - the premise here is that Foltest really liked stretching Roche as far as he could. Which has left Roche with holes that are... not able to go back to ‘normal’. Iorveth just wants to know when he can suck Roche’s cock.

Beltane - started the day after Beltane, because I’m me. This is an established relationship fic where Iorveth wants to celebrate with Roche - so he brings Roche to an elven ceremony. He forgets to mention the whole getting married and fucking in public bit tho.

Foltest Shows Off His Whore (And Iorveth Steals Him) - the Scoia’tael come to Vizima to negotiate a peace treaty. As a show of power, Foltest has Roche serving as his cockwarmer, completely naked. Iorveth cannot take his eyes off of Roche and when Foltest offers his whore to them... well, how can he refuse?

Cock worship - aka Iorveth is a lil obsessed with Roche’s dick. Haven’t actually decided if this is gonna be a slow burn with relationship development or go straight into porn. So uh... opinions requested?

Mersquid Iorveth Porny Porn - When Iorveth isn’t present during a fight, Roche goes to the cove where they’ve been secretly meeting and teaching each other shit. Only to find Iorveth in heat. Obviously he can’t just leave his enemy, so...

Oblivious Roche - Iorveth is trying VERY, very hard to woo Roche, but the idiot is absolutely oblivious to these things. So Iorveth decides to get naked with candles and rose petals around and wait for Roche to come and finally take him. Roche is just very, very confused.

Old Men in Vergen - Roche, exhausted from training his soldiers in Velen, goes to Vergen to rest and recover with his lover. Iorveth just wants Roche to fucking eat a real meal before they bone until they can’t anymore.

Sequel to Never Have I Ever - Iorveth decides that Roche’s drunken confessions deserve reciprocity. 

Iorveth Gangbang - Roche manages a scene where Iorveth is tied up in the Blue Stripes camp and they take him apart.

Post-coital after first time - post-W2, Iorveth has decided to start over in a town where he’s a little less notorious. When he decides to stop by the tavern, he happens to discover Roche, drunk off his ass. Obviously this leads to dares and blowjobs.

Hands - Iorveth and Geralt have a thing for Roche’s hands and spend a lot of time oogling and fantacisizng about them. Roche discovers this when he ‘accidentally’ walks in on Iorveth fingering Geralt in Corvo Bianco.

Post-coital smoke - Iorveth admires his lover while smoking after a number of sessions. Then Roche steals his pipe and they start a new session.

Wrestling for Who Tops - Iorveth and Roche are at a fancy party and duck out in to the garden for some fun. Featuring plugs, breathplay, and dirty talk.

Impact Play - established relationship, Iorveth ties Roche up to have fun with him.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - In Witcher 2, Iorveth accompanies Geralt to find a harpy dream powerful enough to save Saskia. They accidentally end up witnessing Roche’s dream - where he is DP’d by Geralt and Iorveth. Then they work on making it come true.

Private Time - Roche masturbates and fantacizes about Iorveth and Geralt.

Inexperienced Iorveth - PWP where Roche instructs Iorveth on how to get him off. Iorveth mostly follows the instructions... with a few additions.

Iorveth tittyfucking Roche - p much what it sounds like. Iorveth has a fascination with Roche’s chest. Roche is more than okay with this.

Want Me To Sit In Your Lap? - based on Geralt literally saying this to Roche 2 seconds after meeting him, this fic is post-W2 where Geralt DOES sit in Roche’s lap (and on his cock) while Triss and Ves get to know each other.

Foltest/Roche –> Iorveth/Roche - this is a fic I’m writing with @multifangirl69 where Foltest ties Roche up until he’s immobile, then fucks him. Then the Scoia’tael attack and Foltest and his guard end up retreating... without Roche. So Iorveth walks into the King’s tent to find Roche tied up and ready to be fucked.

Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain - the magic of the forest is feeling playful and teases Iorveth with the idea of being filled all day long. So when he finally gets to meet up with Roche, he’s eager to get filled - and the magic of the forest has a nice surprise to help fill him. (the surprise is vine tentacles)

Pregnancy Prompts pron pls? - pre-pregnancy but in the same universe with trans Roche, Iorveth reflects on how much he loves his partner. And decides to show that love by sucking his dick.

Age Kink (which I may have misunderstood) - Iorveth and Roche find themselves captured and locked up together with no sign of their captor. 

Eskel/Lambert - When Eskel and Lambert get into a fight over gwent of all things, Eskel accidentally uses axii on Lambert. Lambert wants him to do it again.

5 Signs: Sex Magic - Eskel ends up demonstrating how igni can be used in sex for Lambert and Geralt. Naturally this leads to a bet on who can most effectively use all of the signs during sex.

“If we’re both in this state, we both really screwed up somewhere huh?” - Roche and Iorveth find themselves trapped in a dream world and struggle to find a way to wake up.

“You were almost dead from pushing it too far!” - Roche has a heart attack during a skirmish with the Scoia’tael. Only elven medicine is able to save him.

Plot-driven Fics

Language Aphasia/Deal with the Devil - Roche makes the mistake of wishing that he could “understand Iorveth” in the company of one Gaunter O’Dimm. Then he wakes up as Iorveth’s prisoner and for some reason, he can only understand Elder.

Life Debt AKA Iorveth is an Asshole - When Roche and his men rescue the prisoners of a slavery ring they’ve busted up, they discover one elf has been... pretty badly treated. Somehow this leads to Iorveth learning to walk with arm braces and hanging out in the Temerian camp in Velen, criticizing Roche’s training techniques.

Firebreathing - PT knows how to breathe fire. Iorveth is NOT prepared to discover that humanity has these skills and the idiocy to actually use them.

Sequel to A Heart’s Fire - Cerys is sick of Iorveth’s moping so she comes up with a business reason to go to Hindersfjall, where Roche is visiting Shorty’s family.

Wedding Buddies - Roche’s mom makes him accompany her to a wedding that happens to be for a close friend who is an elf. Roche was definitely not expecting to run into Iorveth here of all places. 

Angst: Sex Object Roche - Iorveth notices that whenever they flirt, Roche backs off and then hurts himself afterwards. Iorveth is not okay with this and refuses to be a blade for Roche to cut himself against.

Midwinter Feast - Foltest treats with a nonhuman delegation while they are all locked inside the palace for the 7 day feast. Iorveth is one of the representatives and decides to have fun messing with Roche.

Solstice Feast - okay, this was actually supposed to be an xmas present for @lutes-and-dandelions​, but uh... I got stuck. But this fic and its sequel are post-W3 where Emhyr hosts a big Solstice Feast and Roche and Iorveth end up ducking out and doing their own thing. Namely: drinking.

Lily Preserved in Amber - the premise is that in an elven coming of age ceremony, Iorveth finds ‘a sign of what’s to come’ in the form of a lily preserved in amber. Later, he realizes that this represents Roche.

Based on @moonlights-ordinance‘s art - Working under Nilfgaard, Iorveth and Roche have THE most uncomfortable desk chairs, ones with no backs. This eventually leads to them using each other as back rests and, of course, cuddling.

Roche’s Scars - this is a 6-part fic all about Roche’s scars: how he gets them, why he hides them, how he (and Iorveth) learn to accept them. Plus some scar worship, of course.

Casefic/Undercover Dubious Consent - In order to break up a slavery ring, Iorveth goes undercover as Roche’s ‘pet’. This requires them trusting each other an awful lot and also, Iorveth is a little worried about how much he likes wearing Roche’s collar.

Sequel to Red is the Rose - as Iorveth and Roche journey to Kaer Morhen to help Geralt, they slowly figure out how their relationship works - and how to move it forward.

Curse Breaking - Roche finds Iorveth in an abandoned Scoia’tael camp, slowly dying from a curse. Roche manages to cure Iorveth and then decides to help Iorveth rescue the rest of his Scoia’tael from a mage. With a little help from Triss, of course.

Bloodplay - Roche begins to hunt the Scoia’tael and has a very strangely arousing encounter with Iorveth.

Fake Relationship - Iorveth and Roche team up to investigate a couple’s resort where both Temerian soldiers and Scoia’tael have gone missing.

An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it - Roche dreams of Iorveth watching over him in his sleep.

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose - when a mine collapses in Vergen, Roche is thought dead for a period of time until he is rescued. Iorveth knows they’ve always agreed not to pursue anything with their flirting, but he HAS to know that Roche is okay.

Heavy Be The Head - Roche is stuck running Temeria post-W3 and he despises it more than anything. Fortunately, Iorveth shows up with a proposition: to go kill war criminals together. How can Roche say no?

Pre-W2 Ambassadorial AU - Temeria welcomes the first elven ambassador in a long, long time. Triss decides to be friendly and drags Roche along for the ride. 

Stubbornness and Self Care - The Scoia’tael come to Vizima to negotiate a treaty with King Foltest. Iorveth is trying very, very hard to represent his people, but his migraine is unbelievably bad. Fortunately, Roche manages to convince him to rest and have someone else stand in for him.

Pregnancy Prompts Iorveth tells everyone - Iorveth is very, very excited to be trying for a baby and tells LITERALLY everyone he can.

Pregnancy Prompts Philippa POV - post-W2, Philippa decides to return to Vergen and try her luck. Saskia decides to give her a second chance, which many, many people disapprove of.

Temerian Civil War (A Single Spark) - when Foltest sets Iorveth’s forest on fire, he creates a scism in Temerian politics. Suddenly, three factions are vying for control: the Loyalists, the Pragmatists, and the Unified Temerians. 

Identity Porn - As the Scoia’tael begin to emerge as a threat, Roche is sent to investigate them. This leads to meeting an elf in the Flotsam inn and starting a relationship with him. Except neither know who the other really is.

Letters - Roche is running Temeria and hating it when he starts receiving letters from Iorveth. He has no way to send letters in return, but he finds he enjoys seeing Iorveth’s thoughts and ramblings as the elf turns into a street musician.

Dijkstra + Roche 1 - Dijkstra notices how fucked up the dynamic between Foltest and Roche is and is reminded of his own history with Vizimir. Then he decides to teach his Temerian counterpart some self-respect.

Dijkstra + Roche 2 - Roche is captured by Redania as an unnamed spy. He’s caught Dijkstra’s attention because he hasn’t told them anything at all, not even his name. They only know he’s Temerian because of his tattoos. So Dijkstra decides that the way to break this man is through converstaions, over which they slowly develop a grudging respect for each other.

Holy shit. This is not even all of my WiPs, guys. What the fuck am I doing!??!

Anyway, please let me know: which 2 fics should I prioritize working on so that they can be published to hit that 100 round number?

#rorveth #iorveth x roche #WiPs #the witcher #my fics #fic planning

[lucci0la]

what do your kinshifts feel like?

LONG ASS POST WARNING‼️

Personally I tend to notice kinshifts when my behavior and interactions with people change- I feel a very particular way about certain things, or my daydreams more often than not end up having to do with those from my canons. I miss certain people more, or my feelings suddenly change about specific people from my canon. I also tend to feel a lot less strongly about my other kins, sometimes removing them from my list just to add them back later when I feel a shift. And this may sound rancid, but when I’m in a kinshift, I tend to feel very agitated or annoyed seeing others with the same kin or feeling a strong sense of (unrightful) possessiveness seeing someone from my source being close with them. Not to say that anyone sharing a kin with me is invalid (they absolutely aren’t invalid in any way and my personal beliefs enforce that), but it’s an involuntary feeling that arises in my kinshifts. Behavior wise, there’s usually a very noticeable shift in what I do or want or my emotions.

If you’re asking about specifics of my kinshifts, I’ll just tell you what I’ve noticed!

Kakyoin :

~ My dysphoria gets stronger- not in the way of wanting to be more masculine as I’m fairly feminine, but feeling upset by any hyper feminization by those in my life (and occasionally within the fandom). There’s just a strong disconnect between myself and others emotion wise.

~ I tend to feel more passive and wear my more flowy clothing or button ups and spend more time on my hygiene, actually bothering to do things like put my damn earrings in or do my hair. I also seem to be more careful with what I eat and take care to finish any tasks and chores.

~ While my motivation for things increases, so does my will to talk to people. I speak noticeably more friendly to people (read: I’ll be really friendly casually until a full on encounter occurs, in which case, I’m shaking in my boots with uncertainty) and my tone changes drastically, so that’s always a hint. With that being said though, my words come out much more naturally and I don’t sound as much like a broken record.

~ This is literally the main thing that I noticed between kinshifts in the beginning, but in my Rohan shifts I felt a strong interest in body modifications or body art- like piercings and tattoos. In my Rohan shifts I’d have a clear feeling that I’d want some sort of tattoo or get random piercings, specifically nipple piercings, and then when I would be in my Kakyoin shift, I couldn’t not notice that I just had no will or want to alter or mark my body. This was during the time where I kept shifting back and forth between my Kakyoin and Rohan shift, which would change every (this is really a guess) 3-21 days and my feelings and sense of improvement, progression, and change were super clear to me, so it couldn’t go unnoticed. What made it even clearer to me was that the back and forth interest in body modification didn’t feel like indecisiveness, it just felt more like a flipped switch that always went back and forth to the same thoughts and feelings. I remember the thought of dying my hair being a similar feeling to body modification even though my hair color is different from canon- attempting to remedy it outside of video games with customizable characters just makes me feel like I shouldn’t.

~ SUUUPER fucking lonely. I may have more motivation to talk to people, but oh my god, I’m still painfully reluctant and shy in genuine interactions.

Rohan :

~ Usually I feel a lot more upfront with everything, and unlike in my Kakyoin shifts, I’m a bit more distant from people and tend to repeat myself if I’m not in the mood to let my words come out naturally. In other words, I’m considerably more self-focused and care more to finish my school work, usually only reading on the side instead of my Kakyoin shifts where I’m actually taking the time to do anything and everything I can to take care of myself.

~ I don’t experience much dysphoria in these shifts, if any, and lean towards form-fitting or revealing clothing. Though by revealing, I mean more that if I’m alone and at home (which I usually am) I usually just end up strolling around in an unbuttoned cardigan and my underwear so it’s not like I do it in public.

~ Even though I present myself differently with people and don’t actively pursue them much in this state, I feel a notable fondness for them. It’s not like I ever stop loving my pets or family when I’m in any of my shifts, but I’ve noticed that I think about them in a kinder light when I’m in my Rohan shifts. To put it very lightly, the family I was born into that I remember from my canon though wasn’t one that I was as close as I would’ve hoped.

~ It’s a subtle change from the Kakyoin shifts, but I tend to be happier and a bit more hopeful rather that feeling like something is missing. My memories are all and all very much happier and it makes me feel a lot more at ease in many things that I do even if I’m not actively remembering them at times.

~ I’ve admittedly been very distracted from my own kins as of late and unfortunately even let myself forget my own memories- though once I read them again (as I wrote them down) I was reminded. Aside from the attachment and interest to body modification like nipple piercings or getting tattoos, I can’t remember many more differences.

Doppio :

~ These shifts are always way shorter than the others, but I notice them very easily. They stick out like a sore thumb in my eyes. My emotions aren’t passive (in the background) in the slightest during these shifts and mostly consist of like,,, pure fucking peace. Like it’s just a strong feeling you can’t ignore.

~ I procrastinate much more and act with self-indulgence, food becomes the biggest comfort, and I lose my absolute MIND over the outdoors. Scenery of any kind (even if it’s really not that good) catches my eye in an instant and I fuckin’ lose it just trying to take pictures.

~ I’ll interact and talk with those close to me, but I don’t care to do so that much with others.

~ While I like being babied (caressed, treated with endearment, etc.) I literally cannot stand not being treated like another person. Consuming kin content for this shift in particular can make me very angry very quickly unless I get it custom made- like holy shit, call me sweet all you want to, but if I see another damn aesthetic regarding frogs or phones, I will lose my shit. It feels like saying one thing at a family meeting when you’re five and then everyone holds it over your damned head into your adulthood. It’s just a bad joke.

~ I’m pretty sure this is the one kin that I had whose canon was more fem-leaning in terms of attraction because every time I’m in the doppio shift, I just— women 💞💞💞

Johnny :

~ Honestly I don’t know how I know I’m in this shift when I am, I just am. I may have not had this shift enough to know for sure, but I just do.

Aside from all that, easier hints would be

Kakyoin: Attached to Jotaro (and Dio at times) and reacts to doubles in a very jealous way- I don’t interact, obviously, but regardless.

Rohan: Attached to Josuke for the most part, but enjoys most from part 4 and reacts to doubles with a strong feeling of disgust or annoyance, obviously still not interacting.

Doppio: Attached to no one in particular despite kin memories (regardless of my care for Donatella or Trish), but reacts to doubles more out of anger. Just as I said, I just get really angry to the point of shaking and simply try to remove myself from the situation.

Johnny: Who knows tbh lmao. I haven’t done any meditations on this one.

Like I said before, these are just involuntary feelings I get from doubles, I don’t, like, bark at or harass them or anything, they’re all just as valid as I am, but these are just differences I’ve noticed between shifts.

#otherkin #fictionkin #jjba kin

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Two

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Profanity, slight sexual themes, description of the beginning of an anxiety attack, Max puts his hands on you for a hot second but then you rip him a new one lmao. 

Chapter Summary: The Lord’s have a discussion while Max work’s from home and you meet the other half of D.C’s richest power-couple that you now work for. 

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @captainsamwlsn​ @zeldasayer​ @readsalot73​

Chapters: 1/2

The Lord manor was silent, as it always was. Even when Max and Valerie were home, it was still lifeless. 

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked into her bedroom, which was larger than most living rooms. The steady click-clack echoed throughout  the grandiose household and bounced right back to the source. Nothing else was heard; no laughter, no pitter-patter by the feet of excited pets or even children to see mommy come home. Not even the eagerly awaiting footsteps of her husband to welcome her back, take her bags, and ask her how her day went. 

Maxwell was never the type for such idiosyncrasies, and never would be. 

Cold, empty, fake.

A dollhouse meant for Barbie and Ken was more authentic. 

I guess that made them no more real than the toys themselves.

Well, that is if Barbie and Ken secretly hated each other and slept with other people on the side all throughout their relationship. Valerie didn’t know much about dolls. 

She set the plastic bag onto her bed and began unbuttoning her blouse, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the ground before shimmying out of her jeans. 

Valerie Lord wearing something that isn’t designer? She picked up the sundress that had first caught her eye, pressing it to her chest and marveling at just how soft it felt. That’ll be the fucking day. 

She slid it on with ease, she couldn’t say that for half of her wardrobe. 

Dresses were made to hug her figure and accentuate her curves. Constricting, suffocating, so tight she could barely breathe and the flashing of cameras so bright, nothing was there to ground here, nobody was.  She couldn’t see it all was too-

Soft. Her fingers ran along the fabric, hips swaying slightly as she watched the long skirt flow with her movements. It hugged her chest like it was made just for her, but it didn’t suffocate her - not a choking grip on her lungs, but a gentle hand on her chest. Her hands drifted down to the pockets, where she slid them in and remembered the grin you had on your face when you told her. 

“It’s sort of my signature.” You boasted, chest puffed out like you just won a gold medal. Valerie couldn’t help but notice the shirt you had been wearing, a button up with covered in different colored squares, so tacky and loud she could feel the migraine building just from looking at you. 

She also couldn’t help but notice just how little buttons were actually used to close it. A wide expanse of your chest on display, smooth skin practically on show for her before stopping just above your belly button, the curves of your chest peeking through enough for her to wonder if you slipped, would you be completely exposed?

Valerie shook herself free from the thoughts of the ridiculous seamstress, with her ridiculous tattoos and that ridiculous nickname. ‘Stitches,’ give me fucking break. She scoffed, but then turned around to admire the dress from the back. You do good work though…

The idea was set in her mind, and Valerie Lord was as stubborn as they come. There was no turning back. Won’t be too bad, she reasoned with herself. I could count it as my charity work for the month. 

~

Maxwell sat in his office, nursing a glass of scotch while going over a contract sent over to him late that afternoon. He could’ve easily stayed late at work, it wouldn’t be the first time. Valerie wouldn’t have worried, or cared at all really. She slept in a separate bed, in a separate room on the other side of the house. 

She wasn’t his reason for coming home early. Christ, she wasn’t the reason he did anything. 

The true culprit was his secretary. 

Delilah Harris was a pretty young thing who must've thought that sleeping with the big man would get her a better job, better pay, or maybe a side job as his sugar baby. What she wanted exactly he wasn't too sure about, but if he had to deal with the pathetic woman cuddling up to him at his own company as if they were lovers moonlighting a secret affair? Oh, he was going to lose his shit. 

So he found himself  sitting at the mahogany desk in his office, glasses pushed up on his nose. Finally able to get work done without being distracted by some incompetent bimbo batting her eyes at him.

The door to his office creaked open. He didn’t bother looking up.

Spoke too goddamn soon. 

“I've commissioned a seamstress to make me a dress for the gala in September.” Valerie’s voice was always so matter of fact. So condescending, as if her flimsy shrink degree suddenly meant she was smarter than him, the one who actually made money. 

“I’ll be meeting with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds positively riveting, dear.” Max drawled, turning a page to read more of the agreements. He was only a quarter through the damn thing and he already knew half of these deals weren’t going to be made unless he was six feet fucking under. Somebody was definitely getting fired tomorrow.

“I’ll be a bit tied up at work. You know, since I actually have a job and all. But you go ahead and make sure to tell the sewing mice I said hello, Cinderelly.”

He heard his wife huff and put her foot down, Max didn't have to see her to know she had her arms crossed and a frown on her painted lips. Like she always did when she didn’t get her way, a petulant child with an endless temper tantrum. 

“She’ll be making a suit for you as well, darling.”

The glasses slipped down his nose as his head shot up. “Excuse me? If you didn’t notice I’m a little busy running-” He stopped in his rant to take in the flowing white dress she wore that came all the way down to her shins. “Well that’s a bit too ‘Little House on the Prairie’, don’t you think?”

She uncrossed her arms, hands coming down to the skirt to bunch it around in her fists and swish it side to side. “Well I like it, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do something just because you don’t like it.”

Max snorted and set his glasses on the table. “Well that much is true, given how much you know I loathe that laughable model, yet you still keep him around.” He feigned thought and looked off in the corner. “What’s his name? Randy?”

“Robert.” She corrected. “And how’s the secretary, still drooling at your feet like the little lap dog she is?”

“At least she gets on my lap.” His eyes roamed her figure in the dress with a hunger she hadn’t seen in God knows how long. “What are you wearing under that?”

Valerie grinned, her hands slowly slid up her legs, dragging the dress along with them. “Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her husband sighed, head falling into his hand but never letting his eyes leave her form. “You know I hate games Valerie.” His tone was even as he spoke but she could see the tension in his shoulders like a steel wire ready to snap.

“Well that’s not true at all.” The dress passed her knees and slid up the silky skin of her thighs. “I know for a fact that you love games.”

Her hands released the skirt, letting it fall back around her legs.

“But only when you win.” She turned on her heel, fabric swishing around her as she did. “Wednesday afternoon, Maxwell, don’t be late!” Valerie slammed his office door shut behind her, leaving her husband alone once more.

Maxwell sighed, long and loud, before he pushed his glasses upright on his face and returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. For the rest of the night he did all he could to push away the phantom image in his mind of his wife’s supple thighs gripped in his hands. 

~~

Max looked to the building his driver parked outside of with great disdain.

“Check again.”

The driver, Daniel, sighed and looked through the mirror to meet his employer’s eyes. “I have sir, three times already. This is the address that Mrs.Lord gave to me.”

The shop was tiny, the name “A Stitch In Time.” on a sign above the door. A series of little figurines, mugs, and warrior knic-knacks lined the multiple window sills. It was quaint, homey, and the type of place many feel like a friend rather than a customer. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Max stomped out of the car, shutting the door with so much vigor it shook slightly. 

“Wait here for me.”

“Of course sir.”

His first step onto the asphalt, was directly into a puddle of muddy water that splashed back against the end of his trousers. Even through the window he could hear Daniel cough to hide his laughter. 

Max peered through the windows, looking for a sight of anybody within the store before grabbing the door using only two fingers and walking inside. 

A small bell jingled against the door as his entrance, and a voice called out from the back of the store.

“I’ll be out in one moment!” A woman shouted, Max took the chance to look at the racks of clothing around him, picking up one particularly horrendous skirt with the tips of his pointer and forefinger with a frown. 

This was the place that Val chose? Maybe he should sign her up for rehab, because she’s got to be smoking something to think-

“Welcome to a Stitch in- oh shit.”

Max turned his head to see you standing at the back door, mouth slightly agape. He took in your cheap jeans, your gold chain resting against your chest, a large expanse of skin left sinful on display due to the especially gaudy shirt you wore only being buttoned by the button three. Untamed curls framed your face like a halo as you stand shocked by the man before you.

“Son of a bitch.” You mumbled, your eyes raked over his blonde hair all the way to his designer shoes. “That lady was actually for real.”

“That Lady, being my wife I presume?” 

Max's voice, though annoyed, was rich and smooth and shook you out of your stupor.

“That she is. She came in on Monday and briefly spoke about..a commission?”

“Yes.” He continued to walk around the store, looking at everything with a sour face, even you. “Why she did I’m not so sure.”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and Max Lord was already proving to be worse than his wife.

“Is this place up to health code?”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and it was confirmed that Max lord was definitely worse than his wife.

He waved a dismissive hand in the air before he stopped browsing judging your store. 

“But what baby wants, baby gets.” He drew a hand to his heart in what could only be described as a sarcastic display of fake love.“Happy wife happy life and all that bullshit, right?”

You knew from the get-go that Maxwell Lord the Fourth was a load of shit. The moment you saw his dazzling smile in his commercials you knew that in real life he was probably like every other rich person in the world. Entitled, classist, and so judgmental they’d reject a glass of water in the Sahara if they knew it was tap.

You weren’t sure if it was satisfying or disheartening to know you were right. 

Nonetheless, a job is a job and you’d having to be fucking insane to reject a giant payout like the Lord’s would no doubt offer. 

But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Timeline?”

Max blinked. Usually people who thank him for the oh so amazing chance to work for him, but you stood your ground. He tilted his head to the side, looking at you with  a new inkling of respect. 

“Four months.”

“Event?”

“The museum of Natural History is throwing a gala for it’s donors.” He adjusted his cuffs as he spoke to you, only looking at you in brief glances which pissed you off even more. “I’m the top one.”

You scoffed under your breath. “Of course you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how charitable of you.”

The animosity of his glare dissolved into a smirk. “Of course.”

You stuffed your hands into our pockets so he wouldn’t see how tightly they were balled up into fists. 

Think of the money, dumbass. You reminded yourself. Stomach the rich people bullshit for a little bit for a huge payout. You've got this.

“I’ll be able to do it, but it may be a time crunch.” His face fell once more. 

“This is a job, honey.” He spoke slowly and moved his hands with each word as if you didn't understand what he was saying. 

“I expect it to be done to the best of your abilities, whatever pisspoor standard that may be.”

Well, you thought before you marched forward until you were nearly nose to nose with the billionaire. You lasted this long, that’s reward enough. 

“Listen here you glorified trust fund baby, I work hard and I work well. But keep in mind I have a multitude of people coming through that door every damn day that I also do work for. So don’t think that just because you and your trophy wife have matching silver spoons wedged up your-”

Max’s left hand lashed out and clamped over your mouth, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your cheeks. If you weren’t so fucking pissed that this mother fucker had the audacity to put his hand on you like that, you may have taken a moment to marvel at just how soft they felt against your skin. 

You reared back, blood roaring in your ears before you finally found your voice. “You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind if you think you can put your hands on me like that and not expect me to shove my foot up your-”

While you yelled, Max fished a slip of paper out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to you with a condescending smile. “Will that suffice?”

His manner, so calm and collective while you were about to wring his neck made you pause. 

“Will what suffice?”

He sighed, wiggling the slip in the air. “This.”

You set your hands on your hips and stare at him in defiance. “Oh? What is it? A certificate for being the most pompous-”

“Just take a fucking look and you’ll see!”

While at first his sudden booming voice caused you to jump. You couldn’t help it, but your chest swelled with pride at seeing the great Maxwell Lord lose his temper at you. To know that you could get under the skin of the most powerful man in D.C. was almost enough payment in itself. Keyword being almost.

You snatched the paper from his hands, anger melting into shock when you realized it was, in fact, a written check and-

That’s a lot of zeroes. 

Max picked some imaginary lint off his shoulder before he took in your gobsmacked form with a satisfied smile. “I trust that will be enough to cover the consultation fee?”

Christ on a cracker, this was just for the consultation fee?

Stand your ground, girl. You reminded yourself. Don’t give him power over you. Give this corporate ken doll a piece of your mind.

You cleared your throat as you tucked the check worth more than your car into your backpocket and crossed your arms. With squared shoulders and your head held high you spoke in the most impassive and neutral tone you could collect from yourself. 

“It’ll do.”

Maxwell grinned like he was the cat and you the canary. You wondered what that made his wife. The sadistic pet owner most likely.

“Marvelous.” He all but purred. “Valerie will be in tomorrow to talk design with you. Until we meet again, Stitches.”

With a quick pivot on his heel, your richest client walked out of your store and into the car waiting for him outside. 

You felt a bit of your pride return when you watched him step into the dirty puddle of gutter water for a second time that day.

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #ww1984 #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #Stitches

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #angelofmydreams

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #367

“i should warn you that you may fuck me, but chances are i’m gonna fuck you over”

Where was the last place you went for vacation? The beach. When was the last time you wore makeup? Halloween. Do you watch soaps or drama series? If so, which ones? Not currently. What’s your favourite tomato variety? I hate tomatoes. What was your very first pet like? Dad had a dog named Trigger when I was born, but I have no memory of her, so I'm excluding her. I consider our first family pet to be Chance, a cat my mom took in after finding her literally in the trash. She was... god, incredible. She was a loyal friend, and I can imagine no greater mother than she was (she legit fought off a rottweiler head-on to protect her kittens). She was so smart, so gentle, and just simply amazing. I'll always miss her. What was the best school project you remember doing? Looking back, despite the fact it TERRIFIED me before, that would be my senior project presentation. It was about snake misconceptions and fallacies, so I made a slideshow to present to the special ed class. I made drawings for them to color, word searches, all that kind of stuff. They were just the sweetest and seemed really into it. What’s your favourite type of fish to eat? None. What kind of an old person do you think you’ll become? I really... don't like thinking about this. Like I'm weak enough now at 25, I can't imagine how my, say, 60s would be. I hope and just about pray that my physical health will improve, but I'm just going to exclude that part entirely from this answer. Personality-wise and such, I have a feeling I'll be the quiet and sweet kind, the one that loves her (hopeful) spouse like crazy, and comes most alive on Halloween if I live in a place where children come trick-or-treating. I imagine I would LOVE that. I'd love to be the type that goes on morning jogs to help stay spry. Which well-known person’s death shocked you the most, if any? Steve Irwin and Chester Bennington might be tied. Both were so, so sudden. Steve was like, invincible to my childhood eyes, and when I heard about Chester's death, I thought it was just a sick rumor. Two amazing people that died way too soon. What’s the craziest colour you’d dye your hair? That would depend on personal opinions. I want to dye my hair LOTS of colors though, if that tells you anything. What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Uhhhh. Idk. Name a video game you can play over and over again: Shadow of the Colossus. It's a pretty short game if you know what you're doing, and it's super relaxing to me and just so goddamn pretty to look at. Every time I've played it has just been a pleasant experience. Do you like meatloaf? Yeah, it's fine. How about Meatloaf? I know who he is, but I've never really listened to his music. Do you take time to do charitable work? If so, what do you do? No. ;_; Especially with all the free time I have, I really should... What is something that will make you laugh instantly? Okay, don't ask, but if I for a SECOND see that commercial of Mr. Clean dancing while he's cleaning, I will die because of memories. What is something you hope you will never inherit from a specific relative? Diabetes. It runs heavily in my family. Name a movie you wouldn’t watch solely based on its name: The Human Centipede. No. Thank you. Have you ever played in a stack of hay bales? No. What’s your dearest souvenir? The stuffed moose I got at Cabela's during a visit to Ohio. I named him Brownie, and he was my "childhood plushie" we all have. Is there a lot of graffiti around your neighbourhood? Not in the actual area I live in, but there are DEFINITELY places where it's a pigsty of distasteful shit. Have you ever made your own soda? (Soda Stream doesn’t count!) No. Do you have a hobby that forces you out of the house? If so, what is it? Nature photography. Have you ever been part of a theater group? No, that stuff doesn't interest me. What’s the most ecological thing you do? We recycle, and I also use metal straws. Would you stop eating meat, if you had to raise and slaughter it yourself? Absolutely. There is no fucking way I could do it. What’s your favourite board game? Why do you like it best? I like Clue just because of the mystery-solving factor, and I think it's kinda cool how you can think ahead and use other's findings to your own advantage to win the game pretty early. Besides English, what other languages can you speak? Some German. It's gotten pretty weak with neglect, though. Besides English, what other languages can you read? I can read German well. What thing/person/happening has made you the happiest you’ve been? This is a complicated answer that I just don't feel like elaborating on. What’s the most freeing thing you’ve ever done? Letting Jason go. Have you ever had a restaurant dish that was made with bugs? If not, would you even want to try one? No, and I'm not interested. Have you ever tasted birch sap? No. How about the young buds/shoots of spruce trees? No. Which edible flowers have you tasted? Honeysuckles. What has been your worst restaurant experience? Well, it's a fast food restaurant, but lemme tell you about my vegetarian encounter with Burger King. I ordered their veggie burger. Which they have. It's not a secret. These idiots gave me a bun with tomato and lettuce, and I think mayo on it, after sounding confused when Mom was ordering for me. Mom went back in there of course to tell them, and oh god was the manager pissed, lol. I got my veggie burger in the end. What’s the most immature, adolescent thing that still makes you laugh? Some sexually inappropriate jokes can still get me sadly, lol. Have you ever had a life-threatening condition? If so, what was it? Not literally, but boy do I think depression counts. Do you ever compare your life to somebody else’s? If so, why? Y E P. I can't tell you why, I just... do it. I look at other's successes and am just like, "Why aren't I there yet?", and beat myself up about being a failure. What is a food item or a dish you absolutely cannot stand? Brussel sprouts, asparagus, runny eggs, many other things because I'm just mega picky. Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? Just the spray paint kind that vendors like to do at the beach and stuff. I don't remember any I got, though. What does your favourite mug look like? It's black with a Markiplier quote on it, given to me by Sara. :') Do you ever read other people’s survey answers? Yeah! Friends', anyway. I love learning all the obscure things about them. Do you like daytime or night time better? Why? Daytime, specifically early morning, because it's better for my depression. Are you more comfortable as a leader or a follower? A follower that isn't afraid to speak up when I'm really against something. What is your favourite song right now at this very moment? I've been really into "7empest" by Tool lately, and the synthwave edit of "Voices" by Motionless In White. If you watched The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, who was your favourite character? I don't remember it well, but I think I liked the butler. Was there even a butler? Who was your first online friend? Emma. :') Do you have any plants in your home? No. If you wear makeup, what’s the most outrageous colour you use? I only ever use black. What was the last photograph you took? My cat being adorable while sleeping. <3 Have you ever submitted a video to Funniest Home Videos? No. What was the first sport you learned how to play? I want to say soccer? I absolutely hated it. Do you have a headache at the moment? Yes, actually. I've really been attacked by the Covid shot side effects. Are your parents still together? No, thank god. What was the last hot food you ate? I made a chicken and I think pesto (some Italian noodles, idk) Healthy Choice bowl for dinner last night. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. :( Do you ever feel afraid people will question your sanity? I'm sure people have before, and back then? Rightfully so. Which X Factor audition(s) was/were your favorite? Never watched it. Were you a straight A student in spelling and grammar? Always. It's so weird how it's gotten worse with time since leaving school, even though I write... Were you a straight A student in math? Yeah, no. I usually got Bs or Cs. What is your favorite shade of yellow? Pastel. I don't really like yellow. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? Have a stable job. Are you afraid of getting yelled at? YES. Do you feel a connection to the moon? It's not something I think about, so not really, but I do believe all things in the universe are connected in some way. We are simply a part of nature, as all else is. What does your heart long for? Contentment in who I am and where I am in life. I know I also miss being in love. Do you know what your purpose in life is? We have no innate purpose; we make our own, and I want mine to be to show others that there is always hope for yourself in yourself, and also to spread the message of love of all animals. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year I didn't. I really should change that this go around. Have you ever seen a fox? Yes! They're a kind of rare sight here sadly, so when I had the opportunity to photograph a fox tragically as roadkill, it was a photographic experience I won't forget. God, I wanted to pet it (I obviously didn't), but I did talk to it about how beautiful (s)he was as I got some shots. I never had a harder time leaving one of those angels I've taken pictures of. Do you find Halloween fun or scary? FUN!!!!!! Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? Not at all. What do the trees look like where you live? I mean, there's a variety, but the staple that you see literally everywhere are pine trees. What is your dream vacation? Somewhere with mountains, clear lakes, cool weather, beautiful and various wildlife... What was the best vacation you’ve been on so far? Disney World as a kid. What is the best class trip you’ve been on? The zoo in the 5th grade. It was the one occasion I got to see meerkats. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I lived for them. Do you find museums boring or interesting? I find science museums to be very, very fascinating. Art ones are great, too. What are three issues you are passionate about? LGBT rights, the pro-choice movement, and wildlife conservation, to name a few. Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all. What size is your bed? Queen. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? When we were experimenting with my Klonopin dosage, I learned that 3mg was enough to knock me on my ASS. Do you like bath bombs? I mean they're pretty, but I wouldn't waste money on 'em. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? Yikes, a looooooot. But this also depends on what you think qualifies as "small." Most of my favorite "small" YTers are tarantula keepers or sub-1M let's players. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier obviously, Snake Discovery, Good Mythical Morning (even if I don't watch them anymore, they are veeery dear to my heart and I will always support them), Sam & Colby... Again, there's a lot. When you don't watch TV and YT instead, you really get attached to a lot of them. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Would you believe me if I said Pussycat Dolls? haha Do you like Disney movies? Um, DUH. Were you ever in the popular crowd? No. Have you ever used an outhouse? UGH, at like childhood sports games, yes. I could NEVER nowadays, oh my god. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I think I have the creativity to, but not the dedication. Are there any foods that make you gag? Beans, for one. I just canNOT with them. It's a completely involuntary reaction. Have you ever had blonde highlights in your hair? I think I did? Who was the last person you video-chatted with? The lady who was seeing if I qualified for TMS therapy. Do you think sleeve tattoos look trashy? Definitely not, I love those. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? I don't actually want one, but if I did, I'd go to a serious professional to get THE Darkiplier smile. :') If u know u know. Do you have any stickers on any of your electronic devices? No. Do you think half blonde/half dark brown hair is attractive? It looks great on some people, but it's not my favorite combo.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

[lyssismagical]

sweetheart, you look a little tired

Febufluff Day 19, 20, 21, & 22 – Safe and Sound, Butterflies, First Kiss, & Love at First Sight 

Read on AO3

*

Peter’s eyes are drifting shut, swaying on his own two feet behind the cash register. He’s already been benched from actually making anything, so he’s stuck on taking orders.

“Parker!” one of his coworker’s shout from somewhere behind him. He jerks awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he yawns.

“Sorry, man. I’m awake, I’m good,” Peter says quickly, turning his attention to the next customer in line and taking their order. Thankfully, it’s a slow day at the café so he doesn’t feel as bad for not being a model employee.

As soon as the customer is through, another coworker of his, Betty, touches his shoulder and pushes a drink into his hand.

“Who’s this for?” Peter asks, looking over the cup for any name.

“For you, dumbass. A few extra shots of espresso to get you through the shift. On the house.”

Peter stares dumbly down at the coffee for a good few moments, not understanding, before he offers Betty a tired smile. “Thanks.”

She shrugs, turning back to her job. “Finish your shift and get some real sleep before your next one, alright?”

Nodding, Peter turns back to the cash register, sipping at his coffee. He’s never really liked coffee, especially now that all it does is remind him of the people he’s lost. His parents used to drink coffee practically religiously, and he remembers Sunday mornings would always smell like coffee and pancakes with his aunt and uncle. But he supposes now he doesn’t really have a choice but to get over it if he’s going to keep his head on his shoulders.

He’s currently working two part-time jobs. One at the coffee shop he’s at now, and another at a nearby restaurant where he’s a waiter. He also picks up odd jobs as often as he can, the extra cash helping to keep their heads above water.

The amount of work he does is already a lot, he barely has any downtime. Especially since he’s a single dad. His daughter is his pride and joy, the light of his life, but it’s tough, he can’t lie.

She’s three, and she’s everything, but between his two jobs and the odd jobs he has to pick up and singlehandedly taking care of a toddler? It’s taking its toll on his health.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world though. He loves her with everything he’s got, even if it means working eighteen-hour days or if it means staying up all night at her bedside when she swears there’s a monster under her bed.

“Excuse me?”

Peter jerks, eyes flying open as a flush immediately fills his cheeks. He quickly takes a gulp of his coffee and turns to the customer.

“I am so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, uh… What can I get for you?”

Peter tries his best for a smile as he looks up at the man, and holy fucking shit.

Harley Keener is leaning against the counter nonchalantly, a charming smile adorning his face. He’s holding his wallet, which is surprisingly old and worn, and is looking at Peter with raised eyebrows.

“Your number?” Harley says, smiling a little brighter and dimples show in his tan skin.

Peter, visibly flustered, fumbles for his own coffee cup anxiously, nearly knocking it over. “I, uh, I’m-”

“Kidding, darling, unless you want to.” Harley winks obnoxiously, licking his bottom lip. “I could actually go for a large black coffee. Thanks, love.”

Knowing he must look as red as a tomato, Peter rings up the price. “That’s, uh, three dollars.”

He pops open his wallet and pulls out a bill. “Keep the change, darling.”

And then there’s a one-hundred-dollar bill in Peter’s hand.

“I can’t- I can’t take this. It’s a three-dollar coffee.”

Harley’s smile falls a little bit, and he looks at Peter with confusion sparkling in his brown eyes. “You know who I am, right?”

Nodding, Peter tries to hand back the money. “Yeah, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t know you.”

“So, you have to realize I don’t need the money. I always give generous tips.”

“Generous is like twenty percent, not three thousand percent,” Peter says. He doesn’t mean to be angry, but it feels like a dig at Peter, not as a kind gesture. It makes Peter feel like he’s not working hard enough, like he’s failing his daughter if he needs to get charity from a rich man who throws around his money.

Harley shrugs and doesn���t take back the money. “Split it with your coworkers. I don’t want to carry around change.”

Peter tries his best to look polite despite being exhausted and upset and wanting nothing more than to pick up his daughter from kindergarten and take her home for a movie night.

“Large black coffee,” Peter tells Betty over his shoulder. “Is that all?”

“Yep, that would be wonderful, darling.”

As much as Peter wishes he was angry at the pet names, he can’t be. Harley Keener, son of Tony Stark, one of the most famous billionaires ever, is really hot. Tan with a mess of purposefully wild light brown curls and a wonderful smile that makes little dimples in his cheeks, and the prettiest brown eyes he’s ever seen.

Betty passes Harley the coffee over the counter with a knowing smile.

Harley sees it at the same time Peter does.

He’s too much of a coward so here’s his number.

“You’ve got a nice wingman back there,” Harley says, grinning at Peter. “I’ll call you, beautiful.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Peter doesn’t bother telling him he hasn’t had the money to pay his phone bill in a little over six months.

* “Daddy!” His daughter exclaims, racing across the schoolyard to him. As soon as she reaches him, he scoops her up into his arms, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“Hi, baby, I missed you loads,” Peter says, smiling at her. He ignores the tiredness that hangs from his very bones and his aching joints and focuses on the unfiltered joy in his daughter’s eyes.

June Parker was born when Peter was only eighteen. He wasn’t ready to have a child, but MJ and he decided that they could do anything so long as they had each other.

And then there were complications with the birth.

Peter doesn’t remember much from that night, one of the longest nights of his life, all he remembered is the doctors refusing to give him the baby when he was allowed into the nursery. He remembers the worry that almost had his knees giving out. They sat him down in one of the chairs and broke the news. And he sat there, and he cried until he thought his chest would cave.

And then they were tucking his baby into his arms.

“I missed you more!” she exclaims before launching into a detailed explanation of her school day.

He walks them home, a good seven blocks away from the elementary school, but it’s not like he has the spare cash to pay for a car, insurance and gas.

Eventually, they do make it home to their little apartment building, and Peter’s never been happier to peel off his sneakers and fall onto the couch, June immediately curling up against his chest.

“Do you work tonigh’?” June asks, a pout tugging at her mouth.

“Nope, got the night off, honey.” Peter doesn’t tell her that it’s because he looked dead on his feet last night and was forced to take a sick day to get some real sleep. Instead, he grins down at her, and lifts his eyebrows. “You know what that means?”

“Movie night!” she squeals, sliding off the couch and racing for the kitchen and their poorly stocked cupboards.

Peter laughs and drags himself to his feet. “Dinner first, June.”

He scoops her back up, sitting her down on the counter. “What do you want to eat?”

She pretends to think really hard for a few seconds like she hasn’t already made up her mind. “Mac and cheese!”

Shaking his head in amusement, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Mac and cheese, it is then, baby.”

* He doesn’t sleep well again, instead making some decent money by reviewing and editing essays online and making sure June sleeps soundly despite the noise of the city, louder than ever.

And then he’s up early as ever to walk June to school and then head to the café for his shift.

“Wow, you look like you were hit by a bus,” Betty says. Not in a mean way, she’s one of the only friends he’s got. “You weren’t working last night, were you?”

“Not at the restaurant,” he says. He doesn’t need to say that he was working anyways. He doesn’t like sleeping anyway.

As soon as he takes up his position at the cash register, Harley Keener walks in.

He’s dressed immaculately as always, but there’s a frown on his face as he walks in.

“Black coffee again?” Peter says when he reaches the counter.

Harley falters for a second, eyes losing the spark of anger before it comes back with intensity. “I texted you last night. Like six times. And I called you too. Tony thought I was losing my mind over a guy at a café.”

Peter winces, opening his mouth to apologize, but there’s a bit of shame burning his chest. He doesn’t want to tell the billionaire’s heir that he’s too broke to pay for his phone bill, that’s why he couldn’t text back.

“If you didn’t like me, you could’ve at least been honest,” Harley says, genuine hurt flooding his eyes.

“I don’t even know you,” Peter says instead. But he does know that Harley’s pretty and he has hints of a southern accent from before he got adopted as Tony Stark’s kid. He does know that it’s been three years since MJ, that if he wants to get back in the game, he’s allowed to.

“You could’ve gotten to know me if you had answered your phone,” Harley counters easily, eyebrows lifting. He leans forward, closer to Peter, voice low. “Can I take you out for dinner, darling?”

Peter swallows thickly, mind blanking. All he manages is a slow nod, trying not to stare too blatantly. Harley’s so close to him that Peter can smell the expensive cologne on him.

Harley smiles, leaning back. It’s less of a cocky, arrogant, rich boy smile, and more the most genuine smile Peter’s seen, dimples showing and the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Perfect. I’ll text you?”

This is where Peter should’ve said something. Where he should’ve admitted that he didn’t have a phone plan anymore and that he doesn’t even know where his phone went, probably lost in their apartment somewhere.

Instead, Betty’s sliding a coffee across the counter to Harley who puts down a bunch of coins.

“Three dollars and sixty cents,” Harley says proudly. He’s grinning as he takes his drink. “Your twenty percent like you asked for.”

Before Peter has the time to say anything, Harley’s out the door.

* The rest of Peter’s day is busy enough to keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts of Harley. He works at the café, gets June home from school, helps her with her kindergarten homework, welcomes June’s babysitter, Ned, works at the restaurant, and gets home with just enough time to shower and get an hour or two of sleep before he’s taking June back to school.

He only realizes his mistake when Betty skips over to him. “How was your date?”

“Oh shit,” he says, jaw dropping. He stood up Harley fucking Keener. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the counter.

Betty’s expression falls, eyebrows crinkling. “What happened?”

“I just- I was working till three and I just- I forgot.”

As if on cue, Harley walks into the café, nonchalant, uncaring, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Harley, look, I’m sorry-”

“Large black coffee, thanks,” Harley says, dropping three dollar bills on the table.

There’s a second where all Peter does is stare dumbly, speechless before he gets his head back. “I’m sorry, Harley. I swear I have a good explanation for this. It’s just-”

Harley shrugs. “You know I acted like I was a stupid teenager. I went home and I gushed to Tony about the cute boy at the café who was good at math and who got all flustered when I flirted with you and didn’t trip head over heels just because I’m Tony’s kid. And then yesterday, I went home and I wouldn’t shut up about how I got a date. And then you never picked up your phone. You never answered my calls. You totally stood me up.”

“I couldn’t pay for my phone plan,” Peter blurts, shame rolling in his stomach. “I should’ve told you sooner, I just- I didn’t know how. I wanted to go on that date, but I- I worked all night and I- I don’t have a phone plan anymore, so I couldn’t.”

And like someone flipped a switch, Harley’s smiling in relief, tugging his sunglasses off his face.

“In that case, when does your shift end?”

“You forgive me? Just like that?”

Harley shrugs, grinning brightly. “Course I do, wasn’t your fault. Plus, I really do like you, Peter.”

“I’ve got plans after my shift.”

“Like what?”

Peter tips his head to the side. “Before you really decide that you like me, you should know I have a daughter. I pick her up from school after my shift.”

And instead of confusion or disgust or anger or anything, Harley’s smile widens. “I know it doesn’t sound like a perfect date, but I would love to tag along.”

Peter can’t help the little smile that creeps onto his face. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you really want to. I get off my shift at two.”

“Perfect!” Harley exclaims. He grabs the coffee Betty left him on the counter. He turns away from Peter who expects him to head out, but he sits at the closest table to the counter.

“You do realize there’s still six hours until two, right?” Peter calls out.

“I have wonderful entertainment,” Harley replies, resting his chin in his hand and simply staring at Peter from across the room.

* They walk all the way from the café to the elementary school, joking and flirting and teasing each other, knocking shoulders and playfully pushing each other.

It’s fun. Peter hasn’t had fun in a really long time.

“Daddy!” June exclaims, racing towards them. She stops short when she sees Harley. She squints up at him for a moment before shrugging and lifting her arms for Peter to pick her up.

“How was school, baby?”

“Good! Miss A gave me a sticker for cleaning up!” she says, smiling brightly, little hands curling into Peter’s shirt.

Peter smiles proudly and kisses her forehead. “June, this is Harley, a friend of mine. Harley, this is my daughter June.”

June’s face scrunches up. “Daddy doesn’t have any friends.”

“Oh my god,” Harley says, trying to stifle his laughter. “Well, he does now. It’s nice to meet you, June.”

She giggles, hiding her face shyly in Peter’s chest, wide brown eyes looking Harley over as though she’s the one protecting Peter.

“Back to mine?” Peter offers. “As much as I’d love a regular afternoon hanging out, I’ve got a shift at the restaurant tonight, so I’ve gotta get dinner started early. You’re welcome to hang out.”

“You work two jobs?” Harley asks, tipping his head to the side, curls flopping across his forehead. “And look after your kid?”

It’s not said with any judgement, just curiosity with a splash of worry.

“Yeah. June’s mom passed away during childbirth,” Peter explains quietly, pressing a kiss to June’s forehead. “Just me and her now, so I’m trying my best.”

The grief is still there, but it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. He knew MJ for nearly six years, dated her for two years. He was going to propose after June was born, he didn’t want MJ to think he was only proposing because she was pregnant. He had to sell the ring not long after June was born to pay for diapers and other supplies, so he doesn’t even have it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Harley murmurs, gently taking Peter’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

Peter offers a smile and points in the direction they have to walk. “You prepared for a seven-block walk?”

“You walk this every day?” Harley’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping. “Carrying her? Oh my god, no wonder you’re so fit!”

June giggles lifting her head to look at Harley. “Daddy’s so strong.”

“He sure is,” he agrees, grinning. “You want me to take her?”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t have agreed to give his kid over to anyone, but Harley’s been incredibly sweet and understanding over the past three days. So, he lets Harley take June and swing her up onto his shoulders, not even wincing when June grabs his curls, giggling brightly.

“Look, Daddy! I’m so tall!” she exclaims, little legs accidentally kicking Harley in the chest, but he just smiles, and holds onto her ankles.

“You sure are, baby, be grateful. This is probably the only time you’ll ever feel tall if you inherited my genes,” Peter laughs.

They walk the seven walks together, Harley never once complaining about June on his shoulders or having to walk so long, chatting about everything and anything. Harley’s more down to earth than Peter would’ve expected for Tony Stark’s son. He talks about his mom and his sister back in Tennessee, about how Tony adopted him when he was eleven so Harley could have the best opportunities he could.

And Peter talks about his own family. His mom and dad, and their plane crash, his aunt and uncle, and their car crash. About how he was living with MJ to finish his high school education when she got pregnant and he lost her too.

Harley’s sympathetic, but not in a pitying way, not in a way that Peter feels judged or uncomfortable. And it’s nice. Peter’s spent the past three years only really talking to a toddler and coworkers.

It’s just nice to have a friend.

June pulls out her colouring books when they get home, immediately racing off to the living room to turn on Paw Patrol and colour.

Harley sits up on the counter in the kitchen as Peter pulls open the fridge, sighing and rubbing his eyes when he realizes it’s pretty much empty.

“You wanna order in?” Harley offers, already pulling out his phone and wallet. “I can pay.”

“I’m not your charity case,” Peter says. He knows Harley’s only being nice, but it stings to think that June could be with someone like Harley, not living off boxed mac and cheese, and cheap snacks.

Harley lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are. This is a date, right? I’ll cover dinner this time. You can get the next one.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Peter bites back a smile, butterflies filling his stomach. “Already planning a second date, Keener? A little presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

Harley reaches out to grab Peter’s waist, pulling him into the spot between his legs, grinning carelessly. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Let’s get through this one first before we start making new plans, hm?” Peter replies, a smile touching his face.

Sure, there’s a headache growing behind his eyes, one that’s been there for as long as he can remember. Sure, he’s exhausted and his feet hurt and he has another shift at the restaurant that night. Sure, he’s only known Harley for three days. Sure, Peter doesn’t feel good enough to be with someone like Harley.

But Harley’s looking at him like he hung the stars, grinning brightly like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here with Peter.

So, Peter leans in and presses a kiss to Harley’s lips. It’s been three years since he’s kissed anybody, but Harley doesn’t seem to mind because his hands lift to cradle Peter’s face, kissing back enthusiastically.

Until, “Daddy! Look!”

Peter pulls away, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face and laughing at the terrible timing.

“Yeah, honey?” Peter calls out, turning to the kitchen door just as June barrels in, coloring book in hand.

“Lookie!” She says, giving him the book. It’s a picture of Sky from Paw Patrol, messily scribbled in with every color in the rainbow.

“It looks great, baby. Way better than anything I could do,” Peter laughs. “You want pizza tonight?”

She lights up, bouncing on her feet. “Yes please! Thank you, Mister Harley!”

Harley grins down at her, ruffling her hair. “Course, kiddo. Anything for you.”

And Peter believes him. In the hour or so that Harley’s known June, he’s been nothing but a picture-perfect guy to both Peter and June.

June shouts a quick thank you and then she races back through to the living room, leaving the two boys alone.

“Thanks for everything,” Peter murmurs, leaning into Harley’s chest. “You’ve been a really nice guy, so thank you for that.”

“You’re thanking me for being a decent human being?” Harley asks. But then he laughs and kisses Peter’s cheek. “Course, darling. I really do like you, I wasn’t lying earlier.”

“I really like you too, not for your money or for the title, but I like you.”

Something about Harley’s demeanor relaxes infinitesimally. “Thanks. Most people hear my name and they just want the minute of fame from knowing me, I guess.”

“Well, most people look at me and see somebody who’s not worth the trouble, so thank you for overlooking the fact that my life is a mess right now.”

Harley smiles, dimples showing in his cheeks, and runs his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone softly. “If you’d let me, could I pay for your phone bill. I wanna be able to text you and call you. This would be for me, not for you, obviously.”

Peter laughs, kissing Harley again. “For you, of course.”

* Peter gets home from the restaurant to find Harley still in his apartment with Ned. Harley had offered to babysit, but was understanding when Peter said he wasn’t sure if he trusted Harley alone with his daughter and Ned was already on his way.

Peter had expected Harley to head home after Peter left, but from the looks of it, Harley had hung out with Ned and June all night.

“Didn’t think you’d stay,” Peter admits, dropping onto the couch beside Harley. “You have a good night?”

“We watched a Barbie movie and ate way too much pizza. June told me all about school and you and everything.”

Ned leans over the back of the couch, yawning. “Gonna head home, Pete. Do you work tomorrow too?”

“Nah, took the weekend off, had some plans. Bye, Ned. Goodnight.”

“Night, Pete. Night, Harley.”

Ned heads out, and Harley immediately turns to Peter with a knowing grin. “Plans?”

“Yeah, you promised me a second date, didn’t you?”

“Me, you, and June should go to a park. Have a cute little picnic, fly some kites.”

Peter can’t help but smile. For their second date, Harley includes June without a second thought. It’s the sweetest thing in the world. Peter can’t help but slide into the space beside Harley, curling into Harley’s warmth, and kiss him sweetly.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“This is probably going to sound insane, and it’s too late for anything I say to be taken seriously, but do you believe in love at first sight?”

Peter thinks carefully, remembering the first time he saw MJ at school and the way his heart almost beat out of his chest, remembering seeing Harley three days prior at the café and the way he thought he was going to die on the spot.

“I think so, yeah,” Peter says, voice quiet. “Do you?”

“Saw you, falling asleep at the counter, and I swear to you, darling, I just knew. I know I was a bit of a jerk to you, but I just- Falling that quickly, never happened to me before, and I panicked a little bit.”

“Don’t wanna drop that word yet,” Peter says, shaking his head.

“Me neither, but I just know I really like you, darling.”

“I really like you too.”

Peter snuggles up closer to Harley, draping his legs over Harley’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Comfy?” Harley asks, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Mm, yeah.”

“Good. You’re safe and sound with me, darling.”

#lyss writes #febufluff #parkner #parkner fic #parley #harley keener/peter parker #harley/peter #harley keener #harley x peter #dad peter parker #coffee shop au #peter parker

[mirrorworldangel]

OTP Question Meme 1

Got tagged by @r6shippingdelivery thanks for the tags!

Imma do a second one for a different OTP cus this is kinda fun.

Tagging @dimethief @lj-todd @rayearthdudette @retrodisaster​  @ourwarbird and anyone else who wants to try this.

(art done by @ourwarbird)

Gustave “Doc” Kateb x Julien “Rook” Nizan

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Usually it’s Doc, but there are some rare occasions Rook would scream.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Rook, he would either use a different room to sleep in or would leave to stay with someone for a few nights until one of them m up and  

Who trashes the house? Because of an argument? Neither. 

Do either of them get physical? Once, and it was a slap to the face. It never happened again.

How often do they argue/disagree? They would sometimes have a few disagreements and bickerings, but when it comes to big arguments that’s when everybody know shit just hit the fan.

Who is the first to apologize? Whoever feels more guilty for how they acted, which usually is the one in the wrong (once they realise that).

SEX

Who is on top? Depends on who is in the mood of controlling the other, but mostly it’s Doc.

Who is on bottom? Rook, unless Doc let’s him hold the reins. Literally.

Who has the strangest desires? Rook would think it’s him,but Doc is always the more experimentally curious.

Any kinks? Bondage, marking/biting, dirty talk, discipline, lingerie with heels, collar, riding crop, creampie.

Who’s dominate in bed? They let the mood take them.

Is head ever in the equation? Yes.

If so, who is better at performing it? Rook, he has more experience.

Ever had sex in public? Sometimes. From Doc’s office to the communal showers, where they could have their own privacy but  getting the thrill of possibly getting caught.

Who moans the most? Rook, Doc likes to make as many sounds as he could from the man.

Who leaves the most marks? Both.

Who is the most experienced of the two? Both.

Do they ’fuck’ or ‘make love’? Depends on their mood.

Rough or soft? Middle ground, veering more towards rough most of the time.

How long do they usually last? Depends on the day and their stamina, but it’s not uncommon they’ll go for 2 rounds.

Is protection used? Sometimes, but mostly not.

Does it ever get boring? Never. They like to spice things up differently.

Where is the strangest place where they’d had sex? At the infirmary wards, they had to be quiet about it because there are a few operators that were asleep there. But also there was that one time at the parking lot in their car...

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/ have children? They wanted to, but were afraid of bringing it up because of their busy lives.

If so, how many children to they want/have? One or two, twins at best.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both do, especially after work.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate places? Both, they enjoy the flirting game together to see the other getting hot and bothered,

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves? Both, but mostly Doc with a bit of dirty talking.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? No idea because I haven’t thought about that.

Who gives the most kisses? Both.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Spending time together. Taking walks with their pets, lounging together, and all of the simple things they do together. They also adore sight-seeing around the places whenever they are at other countries together. 

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? Anywhere and anytime.

How often do they get time to themselves? Everyday after work? Weekends and day offs? Its the times they finally get to relax without worrying about work are the best.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Not snoring, but heavily breathing for Rook.

If both do, who snores the loudest? Look at the previous answer.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay separately? They cozy up together, Rook snuggling at Doc’s side with Doc’s arm around him.

What do they wear to bed? Sometimes in their shirts and boxers, sometimes Rook uses Doc’s button-up shirts. They would also sleep naked after sex.  

Are either of them insomniacs? Not really, although if woken up from a nightmares, the other would wake up to accompany them until they go back to bed again.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope, no sleeping pills.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Yeah, they wrap their limbs around each other whenever its cold. They also would lay side by side as well.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both, although Rook is the winner here.

Who wakes up first? Both are early risers, Doc is a bit of a slower paced.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Both, whoever gets up first.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Either spooning, or one of them using the other’s chest/shoulder as a pillow.

Do they set an alarm each night? Yes, they do have to wake up for work.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nope. They have dogs for that.

Who has nightmares? Doc. Rook only occasionally.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Once it’s Rook saying a song verse in his sleep.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? I don’t think so? It’s mostly about the blanket hoardings.

Who makes the bed? Both, they take turns.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Both would kiss their pets goodnight after final rounds of bathroom duty and feeding. Once in bed, Doc would do the occasional reading and Rook with the social media accounts while they were snuggling with the pets that followed them to bed.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Doc. Pity him.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Doc, being the Head Medic of the team has its responsibilities and paperwork. Rook would try to help him out after Recruit trainings

Who rakes in the highest income? They seem to rank the same in Rainbow so they probably get paid the same? Or maybe because Doc is the Head Medic he earns more?

Are any of them unemployed? Nope.

Who takes the most sick days? No fucking idea.

Who is more likely to turn up late for work? Neither, they’re punctual.

Who sucks up to their boss? None, Doc would rather argue with Harry and Rook would plead at Harry until he gives in

What are their jobs? They're part of the GIGN team within the counter-terrorism group Rainbow.

Who stresses the most? Both, but Doc probably a bit more.

Are they financially stable? I think so, especially with Doc’s family background.

HOME

Who does the washing? Doc, he is a bit fussier with the type of detergent. Although Rook slowly takes over his task because Doc had to stay at work a bit later because of the paperwork.

Who takes out the trash? Whoever finds the trash full before bed or work or else the pets will have a go at it.

Who does the ironing? Both do. You gotta keep the formal uniforms crisp smooth, so why not iron too whatever other clothes need ironing.

Who does the cooking? They cook together, mostly Rook.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? None, unless if they’re too stuck to their phones or had fallen asleep while waiting for the kettle, then it’s a fair game.

Who is messier? The pets.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Blame it on the pets.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Military life has trained them to not keep throwing dirty clothes on the floor, amongst other things. The only exception is when they undress each other and fall in bed kissing and marking each other, they can’t be bothered to think about that in the heat of the moment.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither. The fuck is this question.

Who is the prankster around the house? Again blame it on the pets.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? One of the pet birds they fostered has a slight obsession with shiny things.

Who mows the lawn? They have an apartment, not a house with garden, so neither in England. If they are at the family cottage, they already had a gardener for that. But at Greece, there is no grass to mow.

Who answers the telephone? Both, but more often Rook.

Who does the vacuuming? Again Rook. This is his deal of the chores because of his habit of fostering stray animals.

Who does the groceries? Both, and they go together.

Who takes the longest to shower? None, they keep to short and efficient showers... unless they hop together under the spray.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Both. Being this handsome takes a lot of work. XD

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? I don’t think so.

How many cars do they own? Each had their own car, so when they start livign together they technically have two cars.

Do they own their home or do they rent? They rent an apartment near the base at England. Once they had to move to Greece, Doc took this as an excuse to buy a beach house for “family visits”.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Somewhere near a small town. Not too far from the base nor the nearest hospital in case of an emergency.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? For the most part. Surroundings are secondary, what matters the most is the company.

What’s their song? I don’t know why, but I always have the song Dandelions by Ruth B playing in my mind every time I think of them. 

What do they do when they’re away from each other? If they’re away from each other that means one of them went on a mission, so they do their jobs. But they also mail each other love letters and foreign bouquets and gifts to the other back home.

Where did they first meet? When they got selected to be part of Rainbow. Though in Rook’s opinion, its at the infirmary back in France.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Doc is extremely frugal when it comes to grocery shopping, but will easily splurge a custom made $200,000 Lamborghini in a blink of an eye to show off against NIGHTHAVEN. Rook would buy a lot of snacks and treats and toys for their pets, but is usually the one who had to control Doc on his lavish spendings just to show off.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? If it is meant to spoil the other, then it’s Doc and his family.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Rook, because it’s rare to see the orderly man stumble adorably.

Any mental issues? Yeah, Doc have PSTD (especially after Outbreak), Doc more than Rook because he had to deal with a lot of deaths head-on.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Doc would, behind Rook’s back. While Rook would just simply find a cup and move it away by hand. 

Their favorite place? Their countryside cottage in France, lend from Rook’s parents.

Who pays the bills? Both. They split it in half.

Do they have any fears for their future? Both are terrified of losing the other during a mission. Them dying is something they have more or less assumed, but the other dying? Unthinkable. Especially if they died in their arms.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Doc. But with a nice home-made dinner tho? Rook is the winner.

Who’s the tallest? Both have the same height I guess?

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both, but mostly Rook with permission.

Who wanders around in their underwear? I don’t think either of them would be probe to walking around in their underwear unless it’s for a romantic occasion.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? It would be Rook here, especially when he’s doing chores or dancing together.

What do they tease each other about? Doc would usually fuss about Rook’s weight but that is nothing to the whispers of sweet praises to Rook’s ear with a few kisses, how beautiful and sweet he is and how his loving heart could fit the whole world etc. Rook usually tease him about his motherly habits, but also cooes at how his darling “angel of grace” is always watching him.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither, because Doc has the best taste in men’s fashion and loves to spoil Rook rotten. And Rook has good tastes that he learnt from Warden.

Who crushed first? Rook.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nah. But is he occasional weed brownies included?

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Both, all the Spetsnaz go drinking together as a team, so the boys stumble home drunk together.

Who swears the most? Doc at work, Rook in bed. 😄

#rainbow six siege #r6s #rook x doc #omfg this is so long

[yankyo]

Can we please have some comfort for all that hurt? ;u;

Yes! Yes, you may!

Accident - Part 2

Warnings: Mention of abuse, blood 

   Chamie was acting weird, it wasn’t that he was trying to help, no that wasn’t it, but you could see an odd look on Beetlejuice’s face as the clone was being lectured and Chamie seemed to droop even lower as he looked at the charred remains of his attempt at cooking. And then as the mess in the kitchen was being situated, Chamie was found in the living room attempting to vacuum. It was an honest attempt and you were flattered again that he was trying to help, but you couldn’t help but grimace at the state of it. You certainly didn’t have the money to replace it this month, not when your rent was due and feeding so many new mouths left you a little strapped for cash. Speaking of, you were already running a little too late for work this morning, so even though you wanted to stay and take care of the situation, you had to rush to get ready and run out of the door yelling goodbyes as you went - Chamie wasn’t anywhere to be found and as much as you wanted to assure him that you weren’t upset and make sure he got his goodbye kiss, you resolved to make it up to him when you got home.

   Work was long and boring, a day of dealing with frustrating customers and pasting a smile on your face as you pretended to be listening to them ramble about whatever coupon they were so certain should be working and just how rude the other cashier had been to them last time - you were pretty certain it had been you, but then again, you really didn’t care. No, you were too busy thinking about Chamie’s sad face as he looked at his feet, just taking the lecture without even attempting to fight back. It hadn’t been the first time, but you hadn’t really noticed it before. No matter who it was, once someone started to yell at Chameleon, he seemed to almost shut down, his shoulders hunching and his ears drooping as he just let them take out their anger on him. The only time you had ever seen Chamie fighting back was during the little mock fights he had with the others during game night and even then, it wasn’t really shouting. Despite all the time you had spent with them, how was this the first time you really noticed this? Was there other ticks you had overlooked? Other little signs things weren’t entirely alright with the group of demons you loved so dearly? The thought made your heart ache and it was all you could do to just stay at work and not rush back home to your lovers.

   After what seemed like an eternity, you were finally off the clock and rushing back to your car with a new ball of yarn to replace the one Chamie had messed up this morning. You would sit him down and have a talk about this morning and make sure everything was alright with him, and definitely smother the cute clone with kisses and make sure he knew just how much you really appreciated him, how you appreciated all of them. Your plans for the night were optimistic, but as you pulled up to your home and stepped out of your car, you could hear shouting from the driveway. A chill went through your veins, unsure of what was happening but from the yelling, you could be certain it wasn’t anything good.

   “My books! Why would you even mess with them?”

   “We’re going to have to clean up your mess again!”

   “The kitchen is covered in bubbles, you idiot! What did you do?”

   “What is going on?” You cut in, tossing your bags to the side as you pushed through the gathering of demons to find what they were swarming around and the sight just broke your heart. Chamie was curled into a ball, his arms locked around himself and his grip on his arms so tight you could see blood beginning to stain his sleeves. His hair was a swirling mess of purple and blue with a flash of grey that made you want to cry. “Get back from him, give him some space!” The clones blinked at you, looking down to their comrade as if just realizing how bad the situation had gotten, giving you space to lean in and try to pet Chamie’s hair to get his attention. As you moved closer, the clone raised his head, his eyes glazed and sightless before fear filled them and he stuck out as if trying to fight off his aggressor. You couldn’t help the pained yelp, falling back as you instinctively grabbed the wound, blood welling up through your clenched fingers. Yellow flashed through Chamie’s hair as his eyes seemed to clear before bleeding back to blue, to purple to a dark color you had never seen any of them wear before: black. He gaped at you, looked to his own hand as if it were a separate entity entirely before he reached out for you once more, looking so sorry you thought he would burst into tears right then and there, but before he could touch you the other clones swarmed around you both. Chamie was shoved back as you were dragged into someone’s arms, more shouting and hissing at the cowering clone before Chamie bolted away, half running on all fours as he fled deeper into the house.

   The clones clamoured around you, half dragging you into the bathroom to rinse out the bleeding wound on your arm. Ren took charge of the situation, calling for Bee to get the medical kit for him as he gingerly checked out your wound, sighing in relief after a moment.

   “Thank goodness, you won’t need to get stitches.”

   “What happened today, why was everyone yelling at Chamie?” You couldn’t care less about your injury, no, you needed to know what had lead to Chamie lashing out like that. You knew he hadn’t been attacking you, but something else, something he was clearly terrified of. Chamie would never have hurt you, none of them would, you knew that. The question made Ren wince, as if ashamed of his actions now that he had calmed down but instead of answering, he instead busied himself with tending to your injury,

   “Chamie half destroyed the house,” Jazz, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. “The kitchen is filled with bubbles, he fucked with the washer and dryer, pretty sure half of your clothing is ruined, and he messed with our shit.”

   “He put up the puzzle I’ve been working on all this time.” Jay was pouting in the corner, but you could see a guilty light shining in his eyes. “But all of us jumping on him like that wasn’t right. He doesn’t do well with shouting...” the clones all fell silent, a chill going through them all that stopped you from pressing any further. It wasn’t until Ren finished wrapping your arm and Beetlejuice stepped through the group around you to inspect the job that the silence was broken.

   “I should really clean up the mess...” Ren started shepherding the others out the door, “Someone needs to go find where Chamie holed himself up in.”

   “I’ll find Chamie.” There was no room for negotiation in your tone and the clones didn’t seem surprised, though Beetlejuice didn’t move from his place in front of you.

   “When he gets like this, it won’t be easy to get through to him.” It was phrased like a warning, but Beetlejuice looked resigned, as if this were something that he had tried to fix but knew that he couldn’t. “He might lash out at you again, and next time he might not recognize you in time.”

   “I’ll be alright.” Even if he did lash out, you weren’t scared. Chamie needed someone to reach out to him with kindness, needed to know that you weren’t angry at him. “Ren, can you handle the laundry? Bee and Wasp, clean up the mess in the kitchen, Jazz, Cici, and Jay can put their things back in order how they like it.” The clones nodded and Beej stepped back finally, closing his eyes and focusing for a moment.

   “He’s holed up somewhere cramped and dark. Pretty musty.” You thought to where in the house Chamie would feel the safest and your heart sank with the answer.

   “I’ll be back.” You kissed Beej on the cheek, giving him a reassuring smile before you headed up to the attic. Your attic was tiny, more of an extra storage space than anything, but a person could fit up there if they stooped, and Chamie could definitely curl into a tight enough ball to cram himself into even the smallest space. Your fears were confirmed at the sight of a trembling black and white ball stuffed up against the wall, black and white hair swirling violently. “Chamie? Baby, it's me.” As you crawled in closer, you could hear the muffled crying grow louder in response to you. “Chamie, it’s ok, I promise.”

   “No it isn’t!” Came the responding wail, anguish clear in his tone. “I hurt you! I ruined everything! You hate me!” You could hear his bones creak in protest as he curled in tighter on himself, even his flexibility was being pushed to its limits.

   “I don’t hate you, look, I’m all patched up, you didn’t ruin anything. The mess is already being cleaned up and everything.” Instead of trying to touch him again you settled down with him. “I could never hate you.” Despite your words, he continued to cry, heart wrenching, body shaking wails that made you want to gather him up in your arms and never let go. Between his sobs, he spoke, the words almost unintelligible, but you strained to understand him,

   “Monster..... useless... ruins everything.... she was right....” The last part caught your attention,

   “Can I touch you?” You asked, the ball jolted, but he didn’t respond, so you laid a gentle hand on his back, slowly rubbing back and forth. Though he didn’t relax in the slightest, Chamie shuffled closer to you, his head almost in your lap now. “Is....” You paused, almost afraid to ask this question for fear of hurting Chamie more than he already was. “Is that what Juno told you?” His trembling worsened, but he raised his head slightly to place fully into your lap.

   “She... Juno... She didn’t really like any of us, but...” His shuddered, his eyes tightly shut. “She hated me. I... I wasn’t supposed to exist, I was wrong. Demons aren’t supposed to feel and making something like me was just another sign that Boss wasn’t what she wanted him to be. When she was angry at boss she would make him bring me out and she would...” He trailed off with another shudder, his hand reaching behind himself to touch the small of his back, a sign you had seen once before but hadn’t asked what it meant. Slowly, watching him to make sure he was ok, you reached out to tug up the edge of his shirt over his back, your heart breaking at the sight. Each clone had their own scars, Beetlejuice as well, but this was bad. There was a gnarled, nasty looking scar from countless injuries as if someone had slammed something into his back countless times over the years, and it wasn’t just in one place either.

   “Oh Chamie,” you pulled him in closer and despite his shaking, Chamie let himself be pulled into a hug that he returned after a moment. The demon clung to you tightly, laying his head on your shoulder as he continued to cry. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to find whatever sandworm ate her, drag her pieces from its belly to out her back together, figure out how to resurrect a dead demon lady and then I'm going to throttle her to death." Murderous anger was a feeling you never thought you could feel, but ever since you had heard of Juno and what she had done to your demons, you didn't doubt that you could have ripped that bitch apart with your bare hands if she were to stand before you. "Chamie, listen, Juno is nothing more than a bitter old bitch who liked nothing more than to make other people miserable because she had nothing better to do with her life. She was wrong about Beetlejuice and she's wrong about you." He raised his head slightly, but wasn't meeting your eyes so you continued on. "You're such a good boy that cares so deeply for everyone around him, and I'm so happy to have you in my life. You knew that I was going to do laundry today and tried to get it done for me, you knew today I had to clean up and brought out the vacuum, even if you messed up a bit you still tried and I'm so proud of you for that. I'll show you how to work everything next time and you'll do an amazing job because you're so smart and attentive that it just blows my mind that you're with me." Watery eyes finally met yours, a streak of green cutting through his hair.

"Really?" He asked weakly, you couldn't help it, you cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly.

"Really." Another tear escaped him, but a small, wobbly smile curled at his lips.

"I don't think you could pull body parts out of a sandworm. That'd take a really long, really strong fishing pole."

"Hell, I'll tie a rope around my waist and dive headfirst if I gotta." He laughed now, hugging you tighter.

"No! Sandworm spit is so gross! It smells and clings to you like a jelly!" He stuck his tongue out at the thought, making a disgusted sound.

“I’ve gotta do what I gotta do to defend my baby boy.” This time he kissed you, his cheeks still wet with tears but a laugh still at his lips.

“Thank you.” He murmured. “But I prefer my babes sandworm spit free.” He pulled you into his lap now, his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, much like how he would cling to his stuffed animals at night. “Babes?” He paused, swallowing hard as he seemed to be trying to gather the words he needed. “I love you.” Your heart skipped a beat, tears gathering in your eyes now too.

“I love you too, Chamie.”

#clone wars #Chamie #yan writes #Beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice x reader

[pedrospascalls]

⟶ FARMVILLE, THE THEME PARK OF UR DREAMS

welcome to farmville! the theme park located in the neighborhood of cactus flower with the theme of....you guessed it...farms! the entire joint is owned and run by [cassidy rosier] who was given it by the original owner six years ago now. from there, he turned it into the first vegetarian food only theme park because a) he’s a vegetarian and b) he felt it was fucked up to take pictures with people in animal costumes while eating a corndog. 

the theme park has roller coasters, petting zoos, a water park area, a food court, games + prizes, and a kids park area. there is also an arena area where bands can perform during summer, or horseback riding lessons are taught. there are costumed characters that are just...farm animals except they look a bit off and now very old [example 1] [example 2] [example 3]. everybody has to wear cowboy themed outfits while working, the rides are always breaking down, and its just chaotic. but its one of the few theme parks in the bay area so it manages to get a lot of business [especially in summer]. 

cassidy lives in a unit above the food court there and hires people based on a series of bullshit interview questions. mostly he goes with his gut instinct, and will offer random theme park goers a job if he senses they could fit in. he’s very much a "cool uncle" vibe for all the youth, but those that have been working there for ages with him have a hate/love relationship with him since he never does much. cassidy loves to throws little parties at the end of the work weeks to celebrate whatever he feels like celebrating. he will also fuck with you while on your shift and there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes fun and pranks going on. a lot of people stay working at farmville for years because its really chill and while cassidy doesn’t do much himself, he’s a fun boss! [if you've seen the way way back, its very much like that. otherwise take adventureland as an idea].

below you’ll see the different “areas” each person can work! i didn’t go into specifics with all of them, but if you have a specific ride/food/characters/game/whatever you want them to be in charge of then please let me know when you claim!! also all are open to as many as possible really, there is no cap! you can also stick your character in multiple sections if they like to change things up!

MANAGERS

each manager tends to be in charge of one to two sections of the park! they are also very much in charge of damage control and anything serious!

cassidy rosier ‣ 35 ‣ owner + manager ‣ sebastian stan ‣ played by liv

first last ‣ 30+ ‣ manager ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ 30+ ‣ manager ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ 30+ ‣ manager ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ 30+ ‣ manager ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

TICKET SELLERS + MARKETING TEAM

the ticket sellers are also in charge of creating flyers, dealing with performances, and promoting the social medias of the park! they tend to have really good customer service and are the first face that customers see! cassidy has no idea how to use social media so thats why they also do that oops

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

RIDE OPERATORS

the ride operators can change rides, but they tend to know the ins and outs of specific rides and like to keep with it. they find ways to make the job enjoyable, and also probably love to put “out of order” signs when they want to take an hour or two break without asking.

cory rivers ‣ 24 ‣ ride operator ‣ anya taylor joy ‣ played by zoe

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

COSTUMED CHARACTERS

costumed characters definitely have a favorite they stick with, but they will help each other out as needed. they were given free reign to give their characters whatever personality they wanted [does the chicken do a sick dab? yeah maybe]. they work for 15 mins and then have 20 minute breaks to cool down.

ted andrews ‣ ## ‣ the cow ‣ tom holland ‣ played by cayley

first last ‣ ## ‣ the pig ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

leaf woods ‣ 40 ‣ the chicken ‣ chris pine ‣ played by amanda

first last ‣ ## ‣ the horse ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ the goat ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

FOOD SERVERS 

food servers sort of are on their own and again, are really open to choosing which booths they want to work at. they also are prone to exchanging food with each other instead of actually buying the stuff oops.

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

PETTING ZOO CARETAKERS

these are the people that, while they get to cuddle with cute animals, they also have to deal with awful children, picking up shit, and controlling the animals. its a fun job if that’s what you like. cassidy tends to spend a lot of time over here because he loves animals.

astrid castillo ‣ 26 ‣ petting zoo worker ‣ adria arjona ‣ played by cassibod

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ kristine froseth ‣ played by jen

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

WATER PARK LIFEGUARDS

the water park side of farmville is smaller, but it does require lifeguards and a lot of chlorine. likely they put too much in it. they are forced to wear their guard gear and a cowboy hat though.

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

GAME MASTERS

game masters control the games and prizes of the park, and often times purposely make games harder than they should be because the park is cheap and don’t want to give away their prizes that easily. those smug assholes.

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ xiao dejun ‣ played by bri

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

first last ‣ ## ‣ job ‣ face claim ‣ played by alias

#berrybuzz #requests #longest yeah boy ever!!