#Under The Water by AURORA

[tsukiyo-7]

Hearts will dream again Lungs will breathe in Wash away the sins It's where it begins Feet won't fail you now Arms won't let you down Wash away the sins It's where it begins

#wincest wednesday #fulfilling the prompt for the server i'm in #but its thursday #Under The Water by AURORA #samdean #wincest #sketch #the epic love story of sam and dean #supernatural #supernatural fanart #🐭

[milanocookiesandivyprofen]

under the water and black water lilies are contradicting each other but so beautiful in how they're one after the other in the album

#aurora #aurora asknes #black water lilies #under the water #mila's music mishaps

[kikiandclouds]

Aurora - Under the Water (Live on the Honda Stage)

Hearts will dream again

Lungs will breathe in

Wash away the sins

It's where it begins

Feet won't fail you now

Arms won't let you down

Wash away the sins

#aurora #under the water #Youtube

[dinghyrudder]

Captain's Log

Fri. November 07, 2023 CST 1215

Ahoy!

I'm taking the day to stream Subnautica, come explore with me!

I'll be streaming off and on for most of the day, so check in whenever you want some aquatic alien background noise

As always,

Happy sailing!

#oceancore #sea #ocean #waves #wave #watercore #underwater #under water #subnautica #aurora #4546b #stream #streaming #youtube #DinghyRudder #dinghy #the dinghy on 4546b

[m0chaminx]

Coriolanus Snow | “What about you?” “She's the star.” “Luckily I Like Roses.”

*•.¸♡Request: omg can you write a coryo x reader, i don’t mind what, just pls don’t make him go batshit crazy at the end😩😩

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Coriolanus, I completely forgot the other Covey peoples names :I, reader is shorter than Snow, Cori isn't insane (ish), Snow is slight ooc, and yes he's a terrible person but you’re here too

*•.¸♡Paring: Coriolauns Snow x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: On Coriolanus’s trip down to the lake with the star Lucy Gray, he found the most beautiful rose ever seen

Or

Coriolanus pervs on you while swimming (romantic)

*•.¸♡Words: 1.1k

Part 2

Growing up in the Covey had been a stroke of luck, simple as it gets, when Lucy Gray Baird and her family had been forced into District 12 Seeing the talent you had with a guitar one night as you played to the darkness, they took you to their next show where you played alongside Lucy Gray. She was still the star, she had the smile, the voice, the charisma. You could sing when you needed to, and you played the guitar just as well, but she always took the spotlight. And when she strolled into town after winning the Hunger Games, that star power only grew. She was the star, until one sunny morning.

Mockingjay's sang into the wind, the warm sun beating against your skin and the gentle breeze made your sundress flow in the wind. Meeting Lucy and the others on the walk to the lake you came face to face with Coriolanus Snow. Buzzed blonde hair, sharp jawline and the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His smile was bright, and his laugh was as sweet as Lucy’s singing. And it should be, he was laughing at her jokes. Smiling at her. Before he could catch you staring your eyes had shifted quickly, focussing on Lucy as you walked to her side.

She beamed as she saw you, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

“Coriolanus, I want you to meet only the bestest person in the world,” Lucy went on, kissing you quickly on the cheek.

The same smile returned as he turned to shake your hand, his skin soft on your calloused palms. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He spoke your name softly, the syllables dripping from his tongue like honey. Your hand slipped from his, the tips of his fingers running along your palm.

Lucy quickly ushered you and the rest of the group on, starting the long hike down the green hills. Lucy walked ahead with Aurora, talking wistfully into the wind. You walked in silence, one hand gripping the strap of your satchel as you watched the critters race up the branches of the trees.

“Lucy said you played the guitar,” Coriolanus spoke up, swatting away another mosquito. He walked beside you, his tall figure blocking the sun from your face. He looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Why didn’t I see you performing last night?”

You simply shrugged. The answer was the crowds didn’t cheer for you, Lucy was the star, and she could play for hours without backup. But it sounded sad. You looked over the trees, the Mockingjay's flying higher into the trees. “Nothing special, you probably just missed me when I left.”

Coriolanus shook his head softly, “I feel like I’d remember you.” You couldn’t place what Coriolanus meant, your eyebrows furrowing as you thought over his words. You didn't say anything more after that, keeping your eyes ahead on the track leading to the lake.

As soon as the dock was close enough Aurora and Tip had stripped their clothes off and thrown themselves in the water. You tossed your bag down, the hot sun that had beat against your skin had made you more than happy to rush into the water. Tossing your sundress aside with your satchel you ran down the dock and dove under the crystal blue water. The cool lake chilled your skin enough to relieve the sun but not enough to raise goosebumps.

You swam up to the surface, pushed the hair back for your face and fixed the straps of your handmade bra that slid down your shoulder. Lucy jumped in after you, and with a yell, Coriolanus jumped in, the splash of water hitting your face. You laughed, using your arms to keep you afloat. Coriolanus muttered an apology through a smile, but you barely noticed as your eyes fell over his light skin, his collar bones and muscular shoulders.

The lake was sweet, a nice relief from the constant smell of coal and sweat, the rowdy crowds and the smell of liquor on everyone's breath. Some time later Lucy had swam to shore, helping Aaroa and Tip fish and dig up Katniss' roots.

You floated on your back, the gentle waves lapping at your skin as the sun warmed your face. Coriolanus sat on the edge of the dock, toying with his fingers as he watched you. The wind blew the waves softly, the sun reflecting on your skin like liquid gold. He pushed himself off the dock, slipping below the cold water once again. “Can I hear you sing?” His voice made you turn your head to look at him.

“I don’t sing,” You muttered, turning your head to face the sun again.

“Lucy said you sing.”

You turned to swim properly, treading water. “If you wanna hear someone sing you should ask Lucy,” You insisted. You pushed yourself closer, slipping your fingers under the slim metal chain of his dog tags, untangling the knot. You moved it to hang properly from his neck, your nails dragging ever so slightly across his soft skin.

His icy blue eye moved from your hand on his skin and looked up at your face, droplets of water falling from your hair, and slipping down your skin and when they hit your lips, you swiped them away with your tongue. “I wanna hear you sing.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours as you lifted her gaze from the metal chain.

You chuckled softly and he swore it sounded like the sweetest melody, a honeydew sound that he couldn't help but smile at. “You’re funny Coriolanus Snow,” you said softly. “Turning down the winner of the Hunger Games. A true victor.”

Coriolanus wiped a hand down his face, wiping away the water running over his eyes. “What about you?” He asked.

You shook your head softly. “She’s the star, the songbird,” You insisted, unsure you were convincing him or yourself. His smile made your stomach flip, his gaze made your cheeks burn, but his words… his honey words.

His hand slowly reached out, his fingers slipping beneath the strap of your bra and sliding it back up your shoulder. His hand lingered there for a moment before falling back into the water. “Luckily I like roses.”

ﾟ°☆Page navigation

#m0chaminx #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow smut

[starwrighter]

A DpxDc prompt because I <3 all of you but am too shy to talk in the discord.

The Subnautica au I promised! (I might make two of them)

Okay, so Danny is around 14 or 15 in this. He is still a halfa but the portal has been temporarily closed for plot reasons. So the portal is closed and Danny has no clue what to do now. Due to the portal being closed Danny's grades have improved exponentially enough that he gets an work offer from Altera (ignore the child labor it's the Giw/Altera's shady business practices fault)

Danny is ecstatic because he's finally getting the opportunity to go to space! He knows if he waits the portal will be reopened and he'll never have a chance like this again so he takes it. In less than a month Danny has been trained and is shipped off to the Aurora. He's heading towards planet 4546b with very little information on the planet itself.

The crash happens and Danny doesn't use his powers to save the ship because something around the atmosphere was preventing full accessing his powers in full. Danny scrambles to the life pods and ends up being the only one in life pod five. The whole life pod scene happens with Danny being knocked out by the panel flying off the wall.

He wakes up with the life pod on fire and quickly uses what he can of his ice powers to put it out not realizing there's a fire extinguisher. Danny exits the life pod and realizes that a lot of people he talked to on the ship not even a day ago were probably dead. Judging by his inability to go ghost, he wouldn't be reuniting with them in the ghost zone any time soon.

He is devastated but goes about exploring and trying to find any other survivors. His hope of finding survivors near the crash zone dies when the ship explodes and starts leaking deadly radiation. Danny of course rushes to try and fix this. It's easier for him to get there because he can stay under water for an inhuman amount of time and has a built up immunity to radiation as a halfa.

Now to the DC part of this. Let's stick with only the batfam existing in this universe. The entire batfam are classified as leviathan's. All of them have two forms with one of said forms being semi humanoid mer like appearance. They are still pretty big in this form, think 7-8ft at the smallest (aka Damian) The other form is something I like to call

Big f-ken fish™

Which is full on terrifying reapers (we'll decide what each of the fam specifically look like later) and a lot of them are chilling in the crash zone when Danny is fixing the Aurora's reactor. Danny has not yet been spotted by the reapers.

Now they're already pissed off because a big arse ship just crashed into their planet and destroyed a great deal of it. They don't exactly know what a space ship is but they do know that the technology is advanced and the only thing remotely close on their planet is from the precursors who were a bunch of pricks.

Before the explosion the fam kept an eye on the weird creatures that crawled out of the metal eggs They watch them almost immediately start dying from predators or Kharaa. They were there when the ship exploded and started leaking radiation and killing the local wild life much to Damian's despair.

So the Fam are pretty pissed off at this point and are circling the ship. They immediately noticed when the ship stops leaking radiation and spot Danny swimming away from the reck quicker than any of the other ones that crawled out of the eggs.

Granted most of the other ones from the eggs immediately died and didn't have faces (the wet suits looked weird and Danny refuses to wear them no matter how much easier they would make things >:(

They start watching him because obviously there's something odd about this thing it looks kinda like a much smaller version of their smaller forms. Danny is getting pretty ticked off that his PDA keeps making false alarms of leviathan's. Duke, and tim are the ones monitoring Danny in the safe shallows. Jason and Dick in the crash zone. Barbra and Stephanie in the kelp forest. Cass and Bruce are patrolling the grassy plateaus.Damian is by himself at the quarantine gun/ sunbeam landing sight.

Danny sets up base near the quarantine gun™ because for some reason even though he's not infected he can't turn the damn thing off. So Damian is the only one currently capable of watching him. Damian has a theory that he 100% sure is correct. As a 1600 year old leviathan he's not a baby he's almost an adult and doesn't remember being a baby. This thing crawled out of an egg and is super tiny so it is obviously a baby and a very smart one at that. While it didn't have the claws, gills, tail, or scales they had it was super fast, could freeze things, had super strong hands despite looking dull and frail, it could take useless scraps and rocks and turn them into complex structures. It was obviously a new type of leviathan the ship carrying eggs. Danny was the smallest of the babies but he was also the strongest, and smartest; surviving long enough to have eyes and hair. This baby was young enough that he still needed to surface for air he needed to be protected.

Danny has no clue he's now being stalked by a group of reapers that decided he was their new baby brother/son

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dcxdp #anyone can add to this #this idea has a death grip on my soul and I have been waiting to rant about it for days!

[ellecdc]

Helloo!!!

Fisrt: I bloody love your blog, you knoked me up on Poly!Moonwater and now I always think about them.

Second: Could I request black brother centric fic? Like it’s a Poly!wolfstar X reader, (or literally any ship that you like involving Sirius), where they have a kid, and Sirius is like watching them play alongside Reg, and he just starts spiralling bc he’s afraid that he might become like his parents, and Reg starts comforting him taking in account what they had to go through, and their relationship growing ecc… and he’s like “Just the fact that you’re worrying means you’re not like that, you’re doing a great job.” And Sirius just dies crying with him.

Obv only if you feel comfortable writing it!! Thank you!!!

those poor sad boys; what I wouldn't do for them

parents!wolfstar x reader but it's Sirius and Regulus centric

CW: brief mention of Black brother's childhood, Sirius spiralling, Regulus talking sense into him, baby wolfstar being a certified menace, hurt/comfort

Regulus should have known there was an ulterior motive to Sirius’ “are you busy this afternoon?” text. 

Not that Regulus didn’t like spending time with his older brother (though he would staunchly deny that he did if Sirius ever asked), but it wasn’t common for Sirius to invite him over unprompted.

And sure enough, as Regulus stepped through the floo at your, Remus, and Sirius’ shared home, he quickly realised why.

Your pudgy little offspring (that Regulus loved more than life itself) was sitting in a booster seat at the kitchen island as she shoved some form of noodle into her mouth and babbled at Sirius which sounded nonsensical to Regulus but seemed to make perfect sense to Sirius as he answered her queries.

And you and Remus were nowhere to be found. 

“Look who it is, babygirl!” Sirius cheered as Regulus stepped into the kitchen, though Regulus could see some of his brother’s usual enthusiasm was curbed.

“Unc’Regloo!” Aurora cheered excitedly as she raised her messy fists up into the air much like she was cheering at a quidditch match. 

“How’s my future little seeker?” Regulus asked as he planted a kiss into the toddler’s  hair.

“Please.” Sirius scoffed as Regulus knew he would. “She’s going to be a beater like her Papa, obviously.”

Sirius and Remus (though Remus certainly only did it to get a rise out of Sirius) argued emphatically over who the child looked more alike - Sirius or Remus - having kept the biological father unknown.

Regulus was happy to note though that the child was nearly a carbon copy of you; She had your hair, your eyes, and your smile. 

But the way the child ‘pat Regulus’ arm lovingly’ [leaving a small orange coloured handprint on his pressed shirt] was all Sirius. 

“Where’s your better third’s?” Regulus asked as he leaned against the granite countertops - well out of reach of Sirius’ mischievous offspring [and her messy hands]. 

Sirius spared him a half-hearted glare as he turned back to watch his daughter. “Daddy had an interview at Hogwarts today and mummy is at the Ministry.” Sirius explained as if it had been Aurora who had asked the question.

“I see why you called, then.” Regulus added solemnly, turning to look at the child. “I wouldn’t want to leave you alone with Papa either.”

The child giggled as she shoved more noodles into her mouth, but Regulus turned to see Sirius staring at the child dejectedly.

“Sirius?”

Sirius cleared his throat and seemed to ‘shake himself off’ as he asked Aurora to drink some water and then helped her clean her hands and face [and even her hair; Salazar, babies were messy]. 

“Papa! Can play outside?” Aurora asked excitedly, clasping her hands under her chin and batting her lashes at her father as if she were asking for something quite outlandish.

“Of course, sweetheart! Lead the way!” Sirius agreed readily, following the child out the sliding back door as Regulus followed the pair. 

Aurora was no sooner pouring sand into a little plastic bucket before Sirius let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Reg.” He whispered quietly.

Regulus surveyed his brother in bemusement; Sirius sat on the patio furniture with his elbows on his knees and one hand covering his mouth as he stared unseeingly at his daughter.

“You’re supervising your child during playtime, Sirius.” Regulus offered, causing Sirius to scoff unamusedly. 

“I’m going to fuck it up; all of it. I don’t know why I ever thought I could do this, because I can’t.” 

“Whoa, whoa.” Regulus interrupted quickly, turning his body directly towards his brother. “You can’t do what exactly?”

“Any of it, Regulus.”

“You can’t love Remus and Y/N?” Regulus asked simply.

“Well, no not that; I mean, of course I do-”

“You can’t love that sweet little girl over there who thinks you just hung the stars because you agreed to let her play in dirt?” He continued, gesturing to said child who was now dumping the bucket of sand on top of her head and squealing in delight. 

“I….I don’t know how to be good… To be a good husband and father to them, Reg. I don’t know how to be…to be better; better than them.” 

The them remained unexplained, but both brother’s knew who Sirius was referring to.

“Well,” Regulus started with a sigh, turning back to watch Aurora jump up and run over only to slam her little body into Sirius’ larger one. 

Sirius, for his part, pretended to have the wind knocked out of him causing the child to squeal before he scooped her up into his arms and planted three smacking kisses to her sand covered face, and plopping her back on the ground for her to toddle back off again. 

“Mother would have had your head for squealing like that.” Regulus said simply, causing Sirius to let out a sigh that sounded awfully close to a sob. “Father would have backhanded you for getting sand on his trousers. Kreacher would have been ordered to lock you in your room for daring to touch a guest with dirty little hands if we had ever dared to eat without utensils.”

He took a deep breath before he turned his now shining eyes back to his big brother; the only family member who ever showed him any amount of love and affection throughout his entire childhood that wasn’t conditional or performative. “And I don’t know that I was ever kissed by our parents. Were you? Do you remember them pressing a kiss to our cheeks?”

Sirius shook his head minutely as both brothers pretended they didn’t notice the tears falling down his face. 

“That child is far more loved by you alone than the two of us ever were growing up, and the best part is that she knows she’s that loved.” Regulus pressed, looking back towards his niece as she moved towards a water table Sirius had called Regulus over to help Remus build a few weeks ago whilst he and you drank spiked lemonade and watched them struggle. 

“And that’s not even taking into account the amount of family she has surrounding her; me, the Potter’s, Remus’ parents, and you Marauders.” He spat as if it was a dirty word, causing Sirius to chuckle wetly. 

“And Siri…” Regulus stated more earnestly, forcing Sirius to make eye contact with him before continuing. “The fact that you’re even worried about it tells me you’re already far better than them, yeah?”

Sirius chuckled wetly again as he squeezed his eyes shut; more tears falling as he nodded his head. 

Both boys were surprised when a small hand appeared on Sirius’ cheek, gently wiping at the tears adorning her father’s face.  “Why Papa cry? Papa have owie?”

Sirius laughed again and pulled himself together. “No, Papa doesn’t have an owie darling girl.”

“Papa sad?” She asked again, tilting her head slightly as if that might help her understand her father’s predicament any better.

“Papa was sad, but he feels a lot better now that you’re here.” He said with a smile. “Better not leave me here alone with your uncle again though, otherwise he might make me cry again.”

Regulus scoffed derisively before Aurora pointed a stern glare at him that wasn’t particularly intimidating but sweet Merlin did she ever look like you.

“Bad unc-Regloo! Make Papa cry!” She shouted as she hopped off her father’s lap and made for Regulus. 

Regulus - not willing to find out what exactly the child had in store for him - hopped out of his seat and took off in a ‘run’ which began a squeal-laughing chase around the backyard as Sirius laughed and cheered Aurora on.

“That’s right, baby girl! Avenge your father! Make sure to get his ribs; that’s where he’s most ticklish!”

Yeah, Regulus thought to himself, Sirius really has nothing to worry about at all. 

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x you #wolfstar dads #poly!wolfstar fluff #poly!wolfstar blurb #poly!wolfstar imagine #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #poly!wolfstar #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #the black brothers #black brothers #uncle regulus #ellecdc fics

[hp-hcs]

• smut • aurora boy-realis (stop talking) — soft! tom riddle x gn! artist! reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, no assigned sex-specific identifiers or anatomical terms, short and not really detailed smut but wtv, hella ooc tom for my delulu readers, like i cannot stress this enough he is ooc, i took canon and just chucked it into the garbage okay

i have had this sitting in my drafts, finished and ready to publish, for the last week now bc the imposter syndrome lowkey convinced me that i’m a terrible writer so anywhore enjoy this train wreck

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Don’t move.”

Tom froze.

Your charcoal stick moved in broad strokes against the page, your eyes darting between Tom and your sketchbook.

“…Can I move yet?”

“No. Stop talking.”

You were probably the only person who could actually get away with telling Tom Riddle to shut up.

(He’d never admit it, but that boy knew damn well that he was whipped.)

~~~

Your charcoal-stained hands left dusty black marks on Tom’s skin.

His chest heaved under you. “Damn tease.”

“Stop talking.” Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a spare pencil held between your teeth as you used his torso as a makeshift table for your sketchbook.

He wiggled impatiently as his fingers tightened on your hips. “Baby, please–”

You grunted, taking in a shaky breath as you tried to collect yourself from his sudden movement.

He grinned slyly at your reaction, jerking his hips up experimentally. His cock pressed in deeper.

You bit your bottom lip hard enough to bleed as you desperately tried to stifle your moans and keep yourself steady. “You’re an ass.”

“Maybe.” Tom gently pulled your sketchbook and pencil from your fingers, leaning over to carefully set them on the nightstand. “But you don’t really mind, do you, love?”

You grumble at the loss of your art supplies, pouting down at him. “Sometimes.”

He cupped the back of your head, gently rolling the pair of you over so that he was on top. “I’ll make it up to you.”

~~~

“Tom!”

“That’s it, there you go, honey. So good for me,” the boy in question murmured against the skin of your neck as his fingers slipped down to help you out.

His thrusts were slow and deep, driving you absolutely crazy. You couldn’t help but cup his face in your hands, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs in utter devotion.

“Oh, Tom—”

“I’m here, darling. Let go.”

You came with another cry of his name.

~~~

Your paintbrush ran over the thin, raised pink lines that traveled across Tom’s back and shoulders—caused by your own fingernails just last night—and covered them with a thick coat of purple.

You were in your element here, circling around your boyfriend and chewing on your bottom lip as you worked on your masterpiece. You paused in front of him to survey your chef-d’oeuvre, smudging the lines of green and white that ran along his ribs and up between his pecs with your thumb a bit more until you were satisfied.

Tom stood shirtless in front of you, his entire torso—from the top of his neck all the way down to the waistband of his trousers—covered in a beautiful artistic rendition of the Aurora Borealis flickering across a starry sky.

You picked up your enchanted camera, lining up the shot before snapping a magical moving photograph of your boyfriend patiently allowing himself to be used as a canvas.

You set the camera back down, screwing on the lids of your paint jars and humming cheerily.

“Right. Well, you can go wash up now. Thank you, love.” You kissed his cheek, unperturbed.

Tom was baffled. Wash off this masterpiece? Destroy it like it was nothing?

“At least join me?” he asked with that damn pout of his that could make you melt on the spot.

Tom could always do that. He was your sun, your moon, and your stars; you’d gladly move the heavens just to see him smile.

(Plus, showers with Tom always ended in sex. Win-win.)

~~~

Blues and purples swirled in the water that pooled at your feet.

Pinks and greens stained your hips, your thighs, your throat.

Tom’s lips were pressed firmly against yours, moving slowly as the steady flow of water pouring down on the pair of you slowly grew cold. Tom pulled back solely so that he could look at you, taking you in.

Tom looked at you as if you were his sun, the very thing his entire world revolved around.

Like a deity, deserving of the entire galaxy’s devotion.

So, without another thought, Tom did what any sane mortal man would. He dropped down to his knees and began to pray.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

comments are always appreciated!!

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #hp x gn reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle smut

[arcaneacolyte]

May I Present: The Ghouls as Quirks My or My Close friends' Animals Have Exhibited:

**Alpha**: Favorite game is "oh look how sneaky I am, stealing the thing you're doing/playing with so I can play with it" but gets SO mad when it's done to him.

**Omega**: Can't help but make the "stinky" big cat face when he smells something he doesn't like. He can't hide it if he tried.

**Mist**: If she touches a texture she wasn't expecting, she basically jumps out of her skin and onto the nearest elevated surface.

**Zephyr**: Despite having good night vision, has *terrible* lowlight vision, so if they see something at dusk that's unfamiliar? Instant hackles up and growling. Turns out it's just a garbage bag.

**Ifrit**: Upon first meeting someone, is all guard dog and grumpy and "Don't touch me", but once you scritch around his horns and ears, he loves you forever and will trail after you wanting more pets, tail wagging.

**Aether**: Very friendly, but if someone he knows puts on a hat or changes their silhouette in any way? Stranger Danger, who the fuck are you?!

**Dewdrop**: Must be in an hot bed, in an hot house, in an hot climate. Will steal any coals he finds to either eat or rub his face against.

**Mountain**: If he hasn't worn shoes in a while (which is usually any time outside of touring) and he has to put some on, he waggles and high steps weird for a while because he can't feel the ground.

**Rain**: Thunder and lightening or fireworks? No problem, unbothered and can sleep like the dead. Balloons in any form? Pure Evil and must be destroyed.

**Swiss**: Literally an escape artist, cannot be contained if you tried. They put a camera in a containment room to try to see how he escapes and they still can't even figure it out.

**Phantom/Aeon**: No eye self preservation. Doesn't close his eyes when water gets poured on him, will not shut them when you threaten to poke them. It's so bad that he's had multiple eye tests to see if he has poor vision, but his vision is perfect.

**Cirrus**: Got one of her nails cut down too close to the quick ONE time and now refuses to get her nails trimmed and will run or fuss if its determined she needs a trim. Has to be asleep or put under sedatives to get them done.

**Cumulus**: Is completely fine with getting a bath or shower, but hates going out in the rain. Also, to her, water is water no matter how gross it is and she WILL try to drink it if she's thirsty enough.

**Sunshine**: Will get excited and get all up in other peoples' faces, then suddenly panic and get upset that their face is too close to hers. She might snap at them because of it.

**Aurora**: Has very sensitive ears and gets very upset at loud noises, but has a hard time self regulating and the only thing that will help is the Ghoul version of a happy hoodie. Unfortunately she doesn't think she can move her neck while she's wearing it, so she turns her head like 1989 Batman.

#ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghouls #ghost #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #mist ghoulette #zephyr ghoul #chair ghoul #ifrit ghoul #the ghouls as goofy little domesticated creatures is one of my favorite headcanons lol #nameless ghoul headcanons #ghost band headcanons

[thisisnotthenerd]

and now the best battles of the intrepid heroes go head to head

feel free to give reasoning/propaganda as you like!

the sidequest poll

quick episode descriptions:

arcade ambush: fighting biz in the arcade. the failed perception checks. getting sucked in and out of the games. riz in the palimpsest. beating a nat 20 in the box of doom. shooting off biz's fingers on the count of three.

broadway brawl: the show must go on. misty having the performance of a lifetime. queen titania. i may be little but i am fierce. esther in the rafters. don confetti. ricky, naked, bodyrolling on misty. stephen sondheim riding a bear. subduing titania with a waist trainer.

blast from the passed: after the trial for gorthalax. completely indecipherable battle. bill seacaster kills gilear. johnny spells can't get a word in edgewise. statistically i have just a good a chance at rolling good as any of you. toxic masculinity is dead, i dance now! riz is blasted off the ship into the iron city of dis.

boys' night (Roll20Con): just the lads, going to a party, where they are supremely uncool. extorting gilear for alcohol [uncle pappy's dag nasty rocket hooch] emergency poem for ragh and corey. stealth mode down the highway. chungledown bim is back. fabian falling under the car with the liquor. warping space time and going to the lan party.

deep bleu sea: peppermint batman is invisible in the darkness. primsy is attacked. jet sends stilton to the bottom of the ocean. shenanigan time. the boats sinking and shifting. cumulous appears. throwing the cheese marauders to induce a dexterity check. can i use swirlwarden to get back into the boat. annabelle in the yogurt

treachery at gramercy: fighting around the umbral engine. ricky's bat counterspell. pete surges twice. cody is a mounted combatant who read dante's inferno. tony simos is a crazy level 20 open hand monk. pete has subtle spell. ricky says tony get fucked and does 90 damage. kingston's spirits of the city. sofia stunning everyone. cody meets lucifer and makes a new contract. sofia pulls dale out of the past and into the present.

battle of the brands: the gang buys truly so much stuff. you are required to do a certain amount of drugs. barry is the angel of mercy. the sisters of the cosmic veil having a bikini party. taking kublacaine. we are the ball. barry taking brutus to the finals on a nat 20. nat 20 death save from aurora nebbins. margaret speaks to the plinth and then is down to 1 hit point. skip crits on the plinth. free teleportation shenanigans are not allowed. gunnie casts explosion. barry rapid shots the plinth and does product placement. operation slippery puppet. am i getting ocean's'd 11'd on my own fucking show? what the fuck is happening? a real son of a bitch is no more. sundry sidney has saved the dog!

terror on toy island: a soft little touch. mer-king's insect plague. no daddy. pib getting the little guys. i'm so fucking scared! the water surges around the mer-king. the terrible dogfish is here. daddy-meter is spinning. pinocchio crits to figure it out. pinocchio screaming to wake the dead. it has asthma! and another thing, with the eyes! you were about to instantly die. gerard is wearing full chain mail in the ocean.. rosamund & ylfa are swallowed. the sea witch shows up. murph causes a nat 20. call of destiny. rosamund gets the eye with a seven. i'm a lion in the water. pib's acrobatic crit. one v. one.

#dimension 20 #battle episode of all time #fantasy high #the unsleeping city #a crown of candy #fantasy high sophomore year #the unsleeping city chapter ii #a starstruck odyssey #neverafter #d20 poll #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 spoilers

[chapel-of-rizztual]

cw: non-sexual nipple sucking? Non sexual intimacy

When Cumulus walks down the stairs to the common room she doesn’t expect to see a ghoul shaped lump sprawled out on the sofa.  “Phantom? What are you still doing awake? It’s 3am” 

Phantom groans and buries his head into one of the pillows.  “Don’t remind me.” 

She walks over to him and pets the top of his head.  “Oh poor angel, you can’t sleep?” 

Phantom pouts and leans into her touch.  “No.” He looks up her with big wet eyes. “Been trying for ages so I gave up and came down here.” 

Cumulus coos at him, scratching her claws down his hairline down to his jawline and scratches under his chin. 

“Oh honey.” Phantom thrills and lifts his chin up even more for her as she scratches at the right spot. “Give me a second and then I’ll help you get to sleep, okay baby?” 

Phantom nods at her, whining a little when her hands disappear from scratching him and she retreats into the kitchen. 

She fills up a glass of water, what she originally came down for, and take it back with her. She grabs Phantoms hand along the way and drags him back up the stairs with her. 

“Where are we going?” He asks her as he stumbles after her, pressing himself as close to her as he possibly can. He’s definitely not scared of the dark. 

“Back to my room.” Cumulus rubs her thumb along the back of Phantoms hand. “So you can finally get some sleep.” 

He lets himself be pulled into her room and the sweet vanilla scent is instantly comforting to him. 

He frowned noticing the empty bed.  “On your own tonight?” 

“Hmm yeah. Cirrus is with Swiss, and Sunny and Aurora went to the with Rain and Dew. Who knows what they’re getting up to.” Cumulus flops down onto her bed and pats the spot next to her, inviting Phantom in. 

He giggles as he crawls into bed next to her.  “I think we all know what they’re doing.” 

Cumulus hums in agreement as she pull Phantom closer to her. Phantom rests his head on her chest, wrapping his legs around her waist  until there’s no physical space between them. 

“You comfy, baby?” She asks as she begins to run her fingers though his hair. 

Phantom hums in response and snuggles deeper into her chest.  “Thank you for helping me.” He mumbles into her skin. 

“Oh honey, it’s no problem.” She places a kiss to the top of Phantoms head. “I’m use to helping Mountain sleep when his insomnia flares up so I’ve gotten to be an expert at getting ghouls so sleep.” 

Phantom lets out a little purr.  “And this works?”

“The majority of the time.” She hums. “He likes being held and having his hair played with so this makes him relax enough to fall asleep.” 

“The majority of the time?” Phantom questions.  “What happens if it doesn’t?” 

There’s a little pause, almost as if Cumulus is debating whether she actually say what’s on her mind.  “He sucks my nipples.” 

Phantom feels like his brain stops for a seconds.  “I-what?” 

Cumulus giggles at him, her claws dragging along his scalp making him shiver.  “Yeah. It works well. Very soothing for him. And for me as well.” She presses another kiss to his head. “Makes us both fall asleep.” 

“Oh.” Phantoms voice is small and quiet. He can’t stop imagining what it would be like, how nice it would feel, how cozy and warm he would feel. His brain starts to go a little fuzzy. 

Cumulus notices the way his cheeks heat up a little and he fidgets in a certain way that Mountain always does.  “You want that, honey?” She runs her thumb over his cheek then over his bottom lip, letting him part his lips so she can push her thumb into his mouth. 

He look up at her with big doe eyes, sucking at her thumb.  “Won’t it be weird?” He mumbles around her thumb. 

“It’s only weird if you make it weird, honey.” 

He takes a second to full take in what she said  before he’s looking back up at her nodding shyly. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, honey?” She smiles down at him, running her finger over his cheek. 

Phantom nods with a whimper, sucking at her thumb a little harder. He whines when she pulls her thumb out of his mouth and whines even more when she moves away from his slightly and sits up. He very quickly shuts up when she pulls her top up over her head, exposing her chest. 

He snuggled back into her chest when she lies back down, rubbing his cheek along the swell of her left breast. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him deeper into her embrace and buries her fingers back into his hair. 

“Whenever you’re ready, darling.” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear so she can see his eyes more clearly. 

He mouths along her right breast, pressing open mouthed kisses and leaving little bites as he goes before he finds her nipple. He gives the bud  a tentative lick, looking back up at her work questioning eyes. 

She gives him a hum of approval, playing with his hair between her finger.  “Go on, baby. It’s okay.” 

Phantom latches himself on with a whimper and gently begins to suck. He goes completely lax in Cumulus’ arms almost immediately and whimpers again as he starts to suck a little harder, starting to find a rhythm with it. 

“Thats it, good boy.” Cumulus coos at him and she scratches around the base of his horns. His eyes flutter, feeling all the tension leave his body. 

He relaxes a little too much, his head falls forward a little to rest on her chest making her nipple slip from his mouth. He lets out a pained whine until Cumulus angles his head so he can latch back on and suck her nipple back into his mouth. 

“There you go, silly boy.” She giggles at him. “That nice? Making you feel all sleepy?” She watches as his eyes flutter again as he struggles to keep them open. 

He hums around her nipple, nodding as best he can. His head starts swimming with that fuzziness, it gets harder for him to keep his eyes open. Cumulus scratches at his scalp with her claws making him sigh and his eyes slip fully closed. 

“That’s it, honey. You let go and go to sleep. I’ve got you.” Cumulus presses a kiss to the top of his head and Phantom sighs again. 

She admires him for a few minutes, watching as his cheeks move with each suckle, how his lashes cast a shadow onto his cheeks, how his nose twitches occasionally. He’s so beautiful like this, so soft and pliant for her, so eager to open himself up and let himself be so vulnerable for her. She kisses the top of his head again before snuggling down deeper, letting the gentle rhythmic sucking lull her into a peaceful sleep. 

#nsfw? Kind of but not really #the band ghost #ficlet #phantom ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #my writing

[gravehags]

ghouls and bloodlust (f!reader - nsfw)

obsessed with the idea that the ghouls drink blood, not for survival necessarily but just for the pleasure of it

Dewdrop - Loves biting into the meat of your breast and if you'll allow it, he'll drink from there too, tongue passing over your nipple in sweet little strokes as he diligently laps up your blood. He ruts into the bedcovers, the couch, your leg - anything to bring himself over the edge from the taste of you

Swiss - Is a total romantic about it - loves to visit you at night like a vampire and drink from your neck. The hand that's not cradling your head will wander over your body, delighting in the goosebumps he causes. He's shameless about his moaning as he drinks, letting you know exactly what you do to him and how good you taste

Phantom - Will sit on the couch in between your spread legs and drink from your wrist, gripping you just a little too hard and too eager, and whimpering when you murmur in his ear how good he's behaving for you. You know he's desperate when he blindly reaches for your free hand and places on the tent of his pants. Between how good you taste and the firm pressure of your palm, he doesn't last long

Aether - Wants you face to face with him so he'll have you in his lap cockwarming him while he drinks from your neck, every once in a while his hips languidly shifting upwards to fuck into you and make you gasp, make your heart race. Both his hands grip at your hips, keeping you from squirming and making you wait until he's had his fill before he has his way with you

Rain - Loves to drink from you while you're both in the bath, your back to his front, steam swirling off the water and his fingers slipping under the surface to curl inside of you. He's always careful but sometimes he'll let a drop or two slide down your neck and over your chest to hit the water - just to watch the way it blooms on the surface as you arch backwards against him

Mountain - Likes to embrace the primal play aspect of it and will let you loose in the abbey or on the grounds and stalk you in the dark. He likes getting your blood riled up - claims it tastes different - and when he sneaks up behind you and pushes you against the wall, you don't even have time to scream before his lips are on your neck and his hand is between your legs

Sunshine - A notorious nibbler, she'll leave bites scattered across your body and you never know where she'll drink from next but you delight in the teasing way she drags her fangs across your pliant flesh, vicious little grin on her face. When she bites you in the ass - hard - you shriek with laughter, completely forgetting about the pain as she giggles and laps at the wounds she leaves behind.

Cirrus - Like Mountain, she likes getting your blood when it's riled up and her favorite way is to drink from you while you fuck. She'll bend you over the bed, strap pumping ruthlessly inside you as she grabs your hair, bowing you backwards and driving her cock deeper within you. With one hand wrapped around your throat she bites hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder and fuck it hurts but your clit throbs. Not once does she slow the pace of her hips while she devours you.

Cumulus - Loves to soften you up beforehand - she'll graciously invite you to her room and have you strip down to climb on the bed so she can give you a massage. You often tease her that she's tenderizing your meat which earns you a sharp slap on the ass. When she finally does drink from you, your body deliciously loose and pliant, it's with both of your legs entwined beneath the soft duvet, your fingers clinging to her white blonde curls while she peppers you with coppery kisses in between sips

Aurora - Like Sunshine, and absolutely vicious little biter. Despite her petite stature she'll tackle you onto the bed with alarming force, tearing at your clothes with painted claws (hope you didn't like that pair of underwear.) When she's got you naked and spread open, she settles on her belly between your thighs to lick and suck her way to the heat of you. When she's brought you close to your first orgasm of the night she pulls back and her jaw closes on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Not one to abandon you, she'll slide her fingers in as she drinks - steadily fucking you and curling beautifully inside you.

#nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #phantom ghoul #aether ghoul #the band ghost #rachel writes

[comphy-and-cozy]

love it if we made it - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x OC (f)

Summary: Aurora Foster and Mat Barzal are friends. Sometimes with benefits, sometimes with unspoken feelings, but always with a little something extra. When they have the opportunity to close the cross-country gap between them, will they be able to overcome the skinny love and take their relationship to the next level?

Word Count: 9.2K

Author's Note: My first ever Barzal fic written for @thewintersoldierdisaster for @wyattjohnston's Winter Fic Exchange! You are such a talented writer and I really wanted to make this a good one - I hope I managed to get the Garden City details covered correctly. 😉 It was a blast to write for someone new even though I am still reluctantly slowly joining the Barzy train. Enjoy, my dear! Thank you to @smileysvech, @pyotrkochetkov, @jostystyles, and @Demi for all of your help in brainstorming, editing, sending inspirational Barzy pics, and the usual general insanity. Couldn’t do it without y’all. Also, just for the record, Mat has hair in this entire fic. No bald Barzy allowed.

Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, alcohol use (characters get drunk), Mat being a bit of a fuckboy. Smut (18+ ONLY); unprotected sex, general sexual tension/sexual themes. Masterlist

July 2013 - Vancouver, British Columbia

The crackling of the fire melds with the gentle splash of waves on the shoreline, crickets chirping happily amid the cool summer breeze. Smoke billows up, wafting to a deep sky sparkling with stars, not a cloud in sight. 

Aurora Foster watches the flames, absorbing the warmth on her legs. There’s a blue koozie on the armrest of her Adirondack chair, holding a Diet Coke. She allows herself to sink into the warm, worn cotton of her Burnaby Winter Club sweatshirt, sighing contentedly. 

“Anyone want more pizza? I’ve gotta rock a piss.”

Rolling her eyes, Aurora scoffs as the rest of the group murmurs no’s. “Charming, Fabbs.”

The next voice that rings out is clear. “Anyone wanna go for a late night dip?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.” This time of night is Aurora’s favorite time for a swim, when the lake is all but glass and the water feels like a lukewarm bath; not warm, but certainly not cold after spending a day baking under a bright British Columbia sun. 

There are no other takers, so she looks expectantly across the fire. His dark hair is shaggy, unkempt, air-dried after a day in the lake. His brown eyes lock with hers, and he jerks his head toward the dock with a grin. “Race you.”

Mat Barzal. 

A name that holds the burden of promise. He’s going to be drafted in a few years, to the Show—and he’s going to be good. Not I’m just saying that because he’s my friend and I’m supposed to say that—no, he’s going to be good, potentially even great.

Here, though, he’s just Mat. He feels weird about the weight his name is starting to hold, not really knowing what to do with the slight level of fame. He’s made a vow to himself that whatever happens, he won’t let it get to him, won’t let it change the fabric of who he is—this guy, right here, feeling the warm breeze through his hair as sprints down the wooden dock, two smaller feet pattering rapidly behind him.

“You first,” he grins, gesturing toward the ladder.

“What if there’s a big monster waiting right there and it eats me?”

“I’ll jump in and save you,” he says, like there’s no hesitation. He glances down to double check that there is no actual sign of danger. Aurora doesn’t notice, her eyes also on the dark water, illuminated only slightly by the brightness of the moon.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” The way he says it is so sure that it actually comforts her for a split second, enough time for her confidence to reach the appropriate level to jump in with a splash. 

Her body is immersed in cold for the briefest of seconds before she’s enveloped in warmth. The splash next to her tells her that Mat has joined her beneath the water. He rises to the surface a few moments later, letting out a scoff as he shakes out his hair.

“Shit. You like this?” he asks, swimming out toward the trampoline floating a few meters away. 

“It’s nice!” she says, following him. “Refreshing.”

“It’s cold.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a big macho hockey player?” 

He ignores her with a roll of his eyes, rising back out of the water to climb the ladder to the trampoline. Aurora opts to swim around a while longer, feeling the weight of the water gliding over her skin. It’s nice, heavenly even, how the water makes her weightless.

When she approaches the trampoline, the blast of cool air against her wet skin makes her shiver, goosebumps instantly covering her body. Mat glances at her, sees the way her arms have wrapped around herself in an attempt to warm herself. He extends an arm, his own skin almost dry. “C’mere.”

His arm curls around her frame, warmth of him already heating her skin. He’s not sure if it’s his heart or hers that he can feel beating—maybe it’s both, beating in a steady, sure rhythm next to one another. 

Aurora’s toes nudge his, the gesture comfortable and affectionate; a silent thank you.

June 2018 – Vancouver, British Columbia

By all accounts, it’s a normal Thursday evening in June; Aurora’s housemates are getting ready to go out to the bar—there are plugged-in curling irons, loose cans of hairspray, scattered makeup brushes all over the counter alongside an assortment of cups in varying stages of empty. A half-full fifth of Smirnoff is there too, the cap misplaced somewhere.

On any other occasion, Aurora would be right there with them, blasting Taylor Swift and chattering about if Brad will finally make a move on Carley. Tonight, though, she’s opted out in favor of spending the night on the couch in her favorite sweatpants. Just not feeling a bar tonight, she’d said.

The silence when the door finally closes behind her friends is almost deafening; she hadn’t realized how loud it was in the chaos of the pre-night-out ritual. With a contented sigh, Aurora plops down on the couch and tugs a blanket over her legs, opening Netflix and starting an episode of New Girl. 

She's part way through her second episode and her first glass of wine when she gets the text.

[Mat:] what’s the play tn

Mat. Of course. He’s home for the summer now, back after his first year in Long Island, and recently returned from winning the Calder trophy. Aurora still had a hard time connecting that this Mat, the one that she’s known since they were 12, the one who she grew up hearing make stupid dick jokes with his friends, is the same one that just won Rookie of the Year in the National Hockey League. 

Instead of typing out a message, Aurora snaps a photo of the wine glass in her hand and blanket in her lap with the TV in the background. It doesn’t take long for the response bubble to pop back up, and soon enough the whoosh of an incoming text sounds.

[Mat:] want some company?

Aurora’s heart freezes in her chest. She hasn’t spent any time alone with him since that sorority formal her sophomore year, the one she bribed him to attend with her so she wasn’t the only girl without a date. It was platonic—that didn’t even need to be discussed—and it had been nice to have a familiar figure by her side; it didn’t hurt that he was starting to make a name for himself in the hockey world as a top draft pick headed for the NHL.

What started as a simple, friendly night ended with her leg wrapped around his waist, leaning against the bathroom door of the venue, moaning his name. She didn’t know how they ended up there, but what she did know was that it was passionate, mind-boggling, life-altering sex. 

At least, to her it was. He’d never mentioned it since. 

At first, it lingered on the tip of her tongue every time he was around, waiting to be blurted out when the sinking confusion became too much to bear. But one month, two months, three months passed, with no recognition or acknowledgement that anything happened between them. 

For a while, she began to believe that she’d dreamt it; that her mind conjured the hottest, dizziest, most viscerally real dream possible. But then she’d see his eyes flick to hers during the sex scene in a movie and feel the spark of electricity when his hand would brush hers. Just briefly, but enough for her to confirm that no, she didn’t imagine it all. 

Needless to say, Aurora can’t help the rising suspicion at the seemingly random text. Surely, he couldn’t be thinking about one night years ago when he had the pick of any girl he wanted at his fingertips.

Before she can stop herself, she's typing ‘bring chocolate’ and soon, she hears her front door open. There’s a shuffle, the sound of shoes being shrugged off, before that handsome face is rounding the corner. His eyes land on her in an instant, a predatory gaze simmering behind an unassuming smile. In his hand is a plastic bag from which he fishes out a pack of peanut M&M’s, tossing them at her.

Aurora squeals, eagerly tearing open the packet and immediately tossing three into her mouth. After an expectant eyebrow raise from him, she heaves herself off the couch with a dramatic sigh and runs the short distance to him before launching into his arms. 

“Thank you, Matty,” she says, voice muffled by the black Acme sweatshirt he’s wearing. He’s warm. And big—bigger than he was before he left for New York. “And congratulations.”

He hums a response, following her as she resumes her spot, this time making room for him beside her. “You didn’t want to go out tonight? Celebrate that enormous trophy?” 

Mat shrugs, placing her feet in his lap and securing the blanket over both. “Could take it or leave it. Can’t leave you to be home alone and bored.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges his leg with her foot. “Shut up. You didn’t have to come over.”

“Honestly, I need a break after that media circus,” he confesses. “So much press, so many questions, so many pictures. It’s exhausting.”

Aurora nods understandingly, though she can only imagine being put on public display the way he is day in and day out, the attention only heightened now that he’s won the Calder. She’s seen the pictures, the articles, all of the buzz, feeling a slight tinge of jealousy—not of him, but that she has to share him with the rest of the world now.

Mat settles in, and casual conversation filters in amidst the episode, pausing at moments to hear the dialogue before another one of them is adding commentary or snorting at someone’s Instagram story. It’s so casual, so normal, his place beside her on the couch; like finally finding that one pivotal puzzle piece she’s been looking for for hours. He’s calm, relaxed, and once again she begins to wonder if she’s been creating something out of nothing this entire time. If the flood of nerves in her chest is an overreaction.

“You still seeing that frat guy? Tim, or whatever his name is?” 

The question comes out of nowhere. Aurora can’t help but wonder if she detects a hint of jealousy.

“Was never really seeing him,” she replies, leaving a heavy pause, enough time for him to fill in the blanks. It’s true, but maybe she chose her words intentionally, curious to see if that lilt in his tone really was jealousy. 

He doesn’t react much outside of a nod and an over-engineered nice, but she sees the very slight tick in his jaw. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead supplying, “You really gonna give me shit, Mr. Hot-Shot-NHL rookie?”

“Listen,” he grins, “it’s not my fault there’s a million single girls in New York.”

This time, Aurora does roll her eyes, if only to hide the sting she feels deep in her chest. She wouldn’t say she has feelings for Mat Barzal, but—well, it’s complicated. It’s always been there, buried deep beneath the surface, veiled as fond affection for a friend who’s grown by her side since they were 12. 

“But none of them are as pretty as you.”

Aurora has to laugh, can’t help but laugh, rather than feel the discomfort that sinks in when she processes what he said. He’s always like this—these seemingly harmless, flirty comments—but those are the ones that keep his hooks latched into her, keeping her coming back for more, dangling by a single thread of hope.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“M’not. You’re so pretty it hurts.”

She moves to kick him—playfully, mostly—but his hand catches her foot in an instant. Before she has a chance to protest, barely processing the evil grin that hatches on his face, he’s tickling her arch. Aurora shrieks, legs flailing in protest, doing her best to scramble out of his grasp. Mat’s laugh is mirthful as his strong arms easily overpower her, hands moving to her hips to pin her to the couch.

“You’re gonna—” he pauses to wrestle her down, “—hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off,” she shouts playfully, hands shoving wildly at his hands in a weak attempt to stop him from tickling at her sides. “I—I hate you!”

In a flash, Aurora finds her arms pinned above her head, large hands pressed into her wrists. She shrieks again, but the laughter dies in her throat when she realizes he’s paused, hovering over her. Her legs stop their thrashing, breath caught in her throat while her heart thumps in her chest. She isn’t sure how long they sit like that, frozen in time, staring at one another; she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing she is, flashing back to the night spent inside the dimly lit bar bathroom.

And then he’s kissing her, desperate, his open mouth pressed against hers. It consumes her, the feeling of his lips, in a way that makes her wonder how she’s survived the last two years without his touch. The thought of stopping is unthinkable, unfathomable, unbearable. 

Mat’s hand slides down her arm to cup her jaw, thumb brushing against her cheekbone while his tongue finds hers. With her now free hand, Aurora instinctively moves to run her fingers through his hair, soft and smooth. It’s long, long enough that she can wrap the locks around her knuckles, offering a firm hold that has him exhaling lowly against her mouth.

With just the simplest, subtlest move, Aurora’s flipped the switch inside of Mat that transforms him from doting, passionate lover to desperate and unrestrained. His lips pivot to nip at the base of her jaw, offering a subtle bite on his way down to her neck. 

She can hear his heavy breath, feels it hot against her skin. His palm draws warmth up her side, rucking up her t-shirt to expose her bare stomach before his hand dives beneath the hem of the cotton to press flat against her ribcage. It’s shameful how quickly Mat can render her little more than a lolling, whimpering mess, back arched eagerly to chase his touch; she wants to kick herself for giving in so easily.

His hands move in tandem with his mouth, caressing, kneading, aiding her slow descent into madness. When he tugs the cotton over her head, grateful there’s no bra impeding his view, Mat swoops down to her breasts like a starving man getting his first taste of food; with a groan, his tongue swipes over a pebbled nipple. 

Aurora’s afraid to say his name, afraid that if she calls attention to the moment, he’ll snap out of it and stop. 

And she can’t have that. 

Hands roam, chased by hot breath and wet kisses, until she’s all but naked on her living room couch, as if she lives alone and doesn’t have roommates that could come home at any given moment. 

He doesn’t even bother to take her panties off, instead ripping them to the side and wetting his tip with her slick, teasing her folds for just a moment.

Mat pauses at her entrance, breath heavy in his chest. His eyes trail up to hers, and Aurora’s heartbeat ticks, afraid he’s going to change his mind right now, when she needs him more than she’s ever needed anything in her life.

And then his eyes slink over her body with a smirk, admiring her breasts, her curves, the way her legs have wrapped around his hips—when did that happen? Mat’s dick twitches when he realizes he has nowhere to go but inside the dripping wet cunt in front of him, perfect and tempting and waiting to be filled up. He lets the low groan rumble in his chest while his lips return to the spot he sucked into her neck.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs against her skin. “Always think of you like this.”

Mat waits for only a moment, so brief that it flits by almost unnoticed, before he’s pushing in with a low groan. Aurora gasps at the sensation, infinitely better than everything her imagination conjures when her fingers slip between her thighs at night. Nothing replicates the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside her wet heat.

“How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout this, sweetheart?” he rasps once he grows accustomed to the way she squeezes him. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you for a long time.”

Aurora’s fingers settle into the dip of his shoulders, breasts pressed into his chest. She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. How can he expect her to speak when his hips are punching into her like they’re getting paid for it?

He’s smug at the way he’s rendered her speechless, entranced by the way she feels. Sensing he might not make it long, Mat focuses on his rhythm, finding the one that has her nails scratching down his back so he’ll have a perfect reminder of her wrapped around his dick.

When her moans escalate, he brings a hand between their bodies, watching the way her eyes flutter shut when he rubs at her clit. “Bein’ so good and so pretty for me, ‘Ror. Wanna feel you squeezin’ me while you come.”

She likes when he talks, judging by the way her breath hitches and her cunt tightens, so he keeps talking, muttering pretty, filthy somethings in her ear while he circles her clit. Before long, his whispers are covered by the sound of her crying out his name—she sounds the same as she did two years ago, sweeter this time now that he knows what she feels like when she comes. 

Later, when he slips out into the night, Aurora presses her fingers against the hickey on her neck, memorizing the feeling of his lips against her skin.

July 2019 - Vancouver, British Columbia  

Aurora takes a seat in the chiavari chair beside Gina, offering Dante a wave. A string quartet plays softly, ushering in wedding guests taking their seats before the ceremony. She’s there more out of obligation to the Fabbros, the bride a cousin of theirs that she’d grown up with, too.

Mat sidles in far too close to the start of the ceremony, plopping himself into the seat next to Aurora. He bumps shoulders with her, offering a grin when she mouths “hi” as the precessional begins.

The ceremony is sweet, the food is excellent, and Aurora can’t help but tear up at the best man’s speech during dinner. Afterwards, everyone is on the dance floor, moving and grooving to a Bruno Mars mashup. 

Everyone except two people.

Outside of the tent, Mat and Aurora are sitting on a bench, watching the sunset. Not feeling this song, Mat had murmured to her before jerking his head toward the tent opening, and who was she to say no to accompanying her friend to take in a Vancouver sunset?

“You think you’ll do all this?” The question is abrupt but curious, like his mind had been wandering and he blurted it out as soon as it appeared in his head.

“What? A wedding?”

He nods, gesturing around. “Yeah. You know, the flowers, the fuckin’… doilies, and shit.”

Aurora’s eyebrow raises as she hides a smile. “Do you even know what a doily is?”

“No, but it feels like something that would be here,” he says with a shrug. Dante’s loud laughter echoes from inside, piercing the quiet reprieve from the music. 

A few moments pass, the silence comfortable. “Yeah, I think I’d like to get married someday. Do the whole thing. No doilies, though.”

Mat snorts, nudging her knee with his. “Wonder what the guy's gonna be like.”

Aurora considers for a moment. In the few minutes they’ve been outside, the sun has slipped beneath the horizon, its dim, fading light still splaying out from behind the trees. Dusk looks good on him, she thinks. “He’s gonna get me flowers. And take care of me when I’m drunk. And he’s gonna be really, really good looking.”

Mat hums, impressed. “Damn. Sounds like a catch.”

“Duh. I’m a catch,” she says, to which Mat nods in agreement. “How about you?”

“She’s gonna have a great rack,” he replies, grinning so wide he almost ruins the delivery of the joke before he’s doubling over. Aurora snorts but joins him in laughter with a playful smack to the shoulder.

Inside the tent, the DJ makes some announcement that Aurora only half hears—something about grabbing a loved one. Mat extends a hand, smiles wide, and she ignores the thump of her chest as she slips her fingers against his palm. 

The anticipation pangs in her chest as he leads her to the dance floor. She feels a sliver of apprehension as he turns to face her, placing his hands respectfully on her waist. Instantly, there’s a flash of the night on the couch, of his lips against her skin; if he’s thinking about it, too, he doesn’t show any outward indication.

Any trace of discomfort dissipates once she gives in to his gravitational pull, hands lacing together behind his neck. He’s strong, sturdy, solid—the way he’s always been, ever-present and a constant in her life since she was 12. His eyes are warm, enveloping Aurora in his gaze until she forgets that there’s anyone else around. 

They sway through the remainder of the song, and when notes begin to slow, she finds herself wishing it would last longer. Fortunately, almost like the DJ is privy to her thoughts, the beat picks up, slow song melding into something more upbeat. Mat blinks, the bubble surrounding them popping unceremoniously. He can’t bring himself to let Aurora go, not when she feels so right in his arms.

With a dramatic pull, Mat spins her around, hand supporting her back as he dips her backwards. Aurora squeals, hand clutching onto his as her footing almost loses balance. Laughter bubbles out of her throat as Mat pulls her back upright, his eyes glowing with amusement. Suddenly, he’s looking to do anything to keep hearing that sound.

It takes a truly revolting love song for them to finally leave the dance floor, beelining toward the bar in search of liquid refreshment and a break. The rest of the evening is easy, full of elation and conviviality, the kind of night that makes your cup overflow and runneth over. 

That night, when Aurora slips into bed tipsy at 2AM with a contented sigh, she falls asleep dreaming of brown eyes and a crooked smile.

December 2022 – New York, New York

When Mat saw the text informing him that Aurora had a job interview for a Software Engineering Lead at TekStack in New York, he offered up his spare bedroom before she could even tell him the date. It would be a waste of money to stay at a hotel when he had an apartment he barely used, he said, and she could make a long weekend out of it and he’d show her around Long Island.

The grin on Mat’s face grows the instant he sees her, a gray coat draped over her arm as she wheels her carry-on behind her. He opens his arms and she falls into them, the way she has a hundred times. “Welcome to New York.”

“—it’s been waiting for you!” 

“Set you up for that on purpose,” he says, offering to take her bag. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” she replies. “But I really want to get the airplane off me first. Maybe takeout for tonight?”

Mat smiles. “Say no more. I know exactly the place.”

A few hours later, Aurora is seated at Mat’s counter, a spread of styrofoam across the quartz. Her suit is hanging in a garment bag on the back of the door to the guest bedroom, waiting to be pressed before her interview. It’s so familiar, the fondness, the sense of comfort, the shared laughter over a plate—or several—of food, but it’s no longer Dante’s family’s lakehouse or the Barzal family’s finished basement. This time, it’s Mat’s fancy apartment in Garden City, the rent alone more than what Aurora makes in a month.

But it’s still the same Mat sitting across from her. Same crooked smile, same easy laughter, same silly, unabashed personality. Admittedly, she was anxious wondering about how things would be; they’d hung out plenty over the summer, kept in touch via the group chat, but their one-on-one time had been limited the last few years.

Despite the apprehension, Aurora is surprised at how quickly they shake off the rust, barely needing any recoil time before it feels like old times. Of course, the camaraderie and pleasantries aren’t nearly enough to build up an immunity to his gray Lululemon sweatpants or the peek of his sculpted Adonis belt when he raises his arms in a lazy stretch. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel when she saw him, but she reluctantly accepts the steady beat of her heart in her chest that tells her her crush is, in fact, still holding strong.

They stay up chatting far longer than Mat anticipated, bedtime delayed even further when he offers to help her prepare for her interview, shrugging with a, I’m not tired anyway—anything to spend just a little more time with her. He Googles ‘Top Interview Questions’ and spends over an hour posing them to her, letting her work through how she’d answer each. Admittedly, he had never really had much practice in the way of a job interview outside of the pre-draft conversations he’d had with various NHL GM’s, but he had more than enough experience at preparing for an onslaught of questions—and how to shake off the nerves beforehand. 

“The thing I’ve learned most is to be concise,” he says, thinking back to when he first did NHL-mandated media training. “Don’t be afraid to take a few seconds after the question to think through what you want to say. That helps so you don’t ramble.”

“Don’t ramble. Got it.”

“And listen to some boss bitch music that hypes you up on your way in. It makes a difference. I promise.”

Aurora raises an eyebrow. “I’m gonna need to know what type of ‘boss bitch’ music you’re listening to pre-game, Barzal.”

“Megan Thee Stallion is my top preference,” he says with a grin, “but if you tell anyone that, I’ll deny it and say Drake.”

“Any last expert advice for me?”

“Get a good night’s sleep,” he says, then glances at his phone at the mention of the time. “Which means we’re about two hours behind schedule. Let’s get you to bed.”

Mat offers to carry her bag to the guest bedroom—decorated straight out of a West Elm catalog—and Aurora thanks him before bidding him good night. After changing into her pajamas, she quickly shakes off the urge to pad down the hallway and slip into Mat’s bed with him, reminding herself that that isn’t why she’s here. 

Instead, she settles into the soft sheets, feeling herself slipping right back into the old, familiar flutter in her chest. 

—

Serendipitously, the scheduling worked out perfectly: the interview was Friday at 1PM, and the Islanders hosted the Predators on Friday night at 7PM, which meant Dante would be in New York and around for post-game dinner, drinks, and a little mid-season reunion for the trio of friends. Aurora shook away the feeling that fate was somehow intervening.

Friday morning arrives, and Mat has morning skate, so he wishes her good luck with a tight hug before he shoves a protein bar in his mouth on his way out the door. For good measure, he sends a string of emojis (💪👩🏽‍💼✅💰) once he arrives at the rink, hoping they’ll give her an extra boost of confidence. 

Practice is relatively easy, more of the opportunity to move his body and run through some plays—nothing intense, preserving energy for the actual game. He’s thankful for a pretty painless practice as his mind continually floats to Aurora, wondering how her interview went. Mat isn’t quite sure why he feels so invested in her landing this role until he realizes that if she gets it, she’ll be moving to New York. 

“Barzy, you trying to go out after the game?” Oliver asks across the locker room. Mat’s tugging on a pair of sweatpants, fresh from his post-practice shower.

“He can’t,” Matt pipes in with a lopsided grin. “His girl is here.”

Mat groans, pressing a hand to his face as he points a middle finger in Marty’s direction. Next thing he knows, the chirps and wolf whistles fill the room and he feels Pierre aggressively nudge his shoulder.

“A girl?”

“Yeah, the hot brunette. Total smokeshow,” Casey fills in for him. 

“Woof woof, Barzy!”

“Get it, Matty B!”

“Fuck off,�� Mat huffs, a dismissive hand directed at no one in particular. “She’s not my… girl.”

“She stayin’ at your place?” Dobson asks. “Gonna be at the game tonight?”

Mat nods, earning another chorus of whistles. He rolls his eyes as he tosses his gloves and practice jersey in the bin, ignoring the no pre-game sex jokes (“Can’t play 3 periods if you’ve already played one in the sheets”).

“If she’s not your girl, I’m definitely gonna make a move, then.”

“Fuck off, Dobber.”

—

Aurora arrives home from the interview to find a jersey folded on the bed, along with a handwritten note–thought you might want to have something to rep the home team. She sends back a text to Mat to thank him and respond to his inquiry about the interview before setting off to change and make her way to UBS.

The game is disappointing, if you’re an Islanders fan. But while Aurora is sporting the blue and orange jersey, she’s waiting excitedly for a Nashville Predator to meet her in the designated area Mat directed her to. 

When he rounds the corner, hair still wet from his shower, she runs up to him and leaps into his arms. Dante grins as he embraces her in a tight hug. “Feel stupid now for wearing the wrong colors tonight, huh?”

“I have to support my host,” she says with an eye roll. 

The host in question appears as if he’s been summoned, moving to hug his old friend, but not before his eyes drag over the 13 on Aurora’s arm. The three of them together just feels right, the dynamic shifted—but complete.

Once they’ve been seated at a high top in a bar in Rockville Centre, Dante turns to Aurora. “‘Ror, how was the interview?” 

“It went great,” she grins, accepting the fist bump Dante offers her. “I aced the coding exercise.”

“You’re such a badass. I picture you like one of those hackers in the movies.”

Aurora snorts, shaking her head. She thanks the waiter who places her drink in front of her. “It’s not really like that, but thanks.”

Conversation flows easily amongst the trio–only one comment from Dante razzing Mat for the 4-1 loss–and eventually the food arrives, along with another round of drinks. 

“So… you really gonna join us and become a Yank?” Dante probes over his meal. 

“To be honest, I don’t even know if I’d accept it,” she says quietly. Mat watches the way her lip disappears between her teeth as she contemplates; he doesn’t envy the gargantuan decision that lies ahead of her. “It’s a big move to make.”

As dense as he knows he can sometimes be, Mat recognizes this as a pivotal opportunity for him to share his own experience moving across the continent. He doesn’t have much in the way of advice, the distance something he just grew accustomed to in time, but he knows what it’s like; feeling the divide between him and the rest of his life like a bruise that won’t quite heal, the precious few-hour window where phone calls and texts make 5,000 kilometers feel like 10.

In so many words, he tells her so, aided by Dante’s supporting murmurs in a rare serious moment. Aurora absorbs it, if nothing else, comforted by the fact that they understand—kind of. It’s a little different moving cross-continent when you’re going to make millions of dollars, but money certainly doesn’t make the distance less of a burden to carry.

“FaceTime is your best friend,” Dante says, and Mat nods in agreement.

“Oh, is that why I get one FaceTime from you every two months?” she sticks her tongue out at Dante. Mat makes a mental note to FaceTime her more often. If she moves to New York, he won’t have to.

“No, that’s ‘cause you’re not my best friend,” Dante jokes, and Aurora scoffs playfully, eyes rolled in annoyance. 

Sensing the end of the semi-serious moment, Mat stands up. “Gotta rock a piss.”

“Charming, Barz.”

Dante watches Mat’s retreating figure, eyeing the brown locks until they disappear down the hallway toward the restrooms. His gaze moves to Aurora’s, lowering his head conspiratorially. “Is something happening?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two. You seem… different.”

Aurora’s eyebrows raise. “Different how?”

“Just… different,” Dante shrugs, then takes another swig of his drink. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you’ve been in love with each other forever.”

Jaw dropping in shock, Aurora feels her face suddenly get very hot. “That’s not true!”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were still in denial,” he says, feigning self-defense and fighting a smile. “My bad. I’ll go back to trying to ignore the way you googly eyes each other.”

“I do not make googly eyes at him!”

“Man, ‘Ror, that acceptance is really buried deep down in there, huh?” Dante grins, dodging the french fry she launches in his direction. Then, he’s back to serious—kind of. “I know it’s a big leap to take when you’ve been friends for so long, but you haven’t been subjected to seeing the way you look at each other. I wish you’d just make out already. It’s disgusting.”

Aurora doesn’t have the heart to tell him they’ve already done far more than make out—multiple times—and part of her is relieved that Mat never divulged that information to his best friend despite every opportunity to. This way, it’s their little secret, something for just the two of them to have. 

Mat’s return effectively ends the conversation. They pay their tabs—Aurora ignores Dante’s pointed look when Mat picks hers up without a word—and make their way to the next bar.

Several hours and far too many Palomas later, Mat unlocks the door to his apartment. He struggles slightly under the stumbling weight of Aurora, who’s latched onto him as she drunkenly giggles. He’s not much better off, but the Uber ride sobered him up enough to think to order DoorDash, conveniently arriving a few minutes after they get in the door.

Coaxing her to eat is a bit of a struggle, but he finally manages to get her into a barstool, munching contentedly on chicken tenders.

“C’mon, ‘Ror,” he murmurs once he sees she isn’t going to finish the third tender. He wraps an arm around her waist, helping her out of the seat to stand her up. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“Carry me!”

Without any additional warning, she’s leaping into his arms. Mat lets out an oof but manages to secure her in his arms as he carries her to the guest bedroom. When he places her on the mattress, her legs don’t untangle from his waist, and Mat feels the near instant pulse in his groin. Aurora’s eyes are closed, but her hips move, subtly, and he allows himself to revel in the feeling of her brushing against him. It doesn’t take long for his dick to become hard as steel, aided massively by the soft, sleepy whimpers that leave Aurora’s throat.

“Matty,” she whispers, hands seeking out the dips in his biceps.

Mat wants nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and devour her like he’s been aching to from the moment he saw a glimpse of her in a towel coming out of the shower this morning. He’s got just enough booze in his system to cloud his judgment, hand trailing up her side and savoring the warmth of her body against his palm. His dick twitches in his pants when he glides a hand over Aurora’s breast, yearning to tug the cups of that stupidly sexy corset down to repeat his fantasy.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he summons every single ounce of self-restraint left in his body and tears himself away from her tempting frame. Much to his chagrin, Aurora lets out the most devastating, disappointed mewl and Mat swears he can feel his heart (and dick) shatter at the sound.

“‘Ror,” he whispers. “We can’t.”

“Why not? S’not like we’ve never… done it before,” she slurs, reaching to run her hands across his pecs. He indulges in the feeling for just a brief moment, his resolve fleeting with every second.

“Not like this.”

“Y-you—” she hiccups, then frowns when he gently takes her hands off of him, “—you don’t… want me.”

“No,” Mat says quickly. He’s pretty sure she won’t remember in the morning, but if she does, he wants her to remember this. “I do. But I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Only wore this so you’d take it off,” she murmurs, and Mat groans, the devil on his shoulder whispering very strong reasons why he should give into temptation.

Ultimately, the good guy in him wins the battle, ignoring the throbbing of his dick when he helps Aurora to shimmy off her skintight leather pants. He does his best to avoid staring at the flimsy scrap of fabric between her thighs and pretends not to notice how little it covers. Her body is almost entirely dead weight as he tries to figure out how to remove her corset, eventually tugging it over her head; her breasts fall free, and he chokes on his own spit as he desperately looks around for something to cover her with. 

Dashing to his room, he grabs a t-shirt—only a little bit intentionally selecting an Islanders tee in order to see her wearing his colors again; on his way back, he pours a glass of water and grabs a bottle of Advil from the bathroom. When he returns, Aurora’s breathing is heavy and she’s lying in the same position he left her in, finally asleep. 

Mat places the water on the nightstand, then notices her phone and plugs it into the charger. Gently, he slides the t-shirt over her head and maneuvers her arms through the sleeves, then situates her and tucks her in before pulling the blanket up to her chin. With a kiss on her forehead, Mat quietly steps back to return to his room, ready to palm himself off, the image of her tiny panties and her tits seared into his brain.

Just before he shuts the door, he hears a quiet whisper of his name, a soft Matty in the darkness. He pauses, waiting for her to speak again.

“Stay.”

Something in her voice makes his heart ache. He stands, frozen in place, hesitant to return to her; afraid that he won’t have the willpower to resist her if she makes a move again. Like an unruly stepchild, his dick throbs as he adjusts himself.

“Please?”

Her voice is so sweet, he can’t help himself. His feet move of their own accord, back to the bed before he’s crawling under the covers beside her. Aurora’s arm immediately wraps around his stomach, snuggling into the crook of his shoulder. As he listens to her dozing off, Mat pretends it’s the alcohol that blankets his heart with warmth and not the girl sleeping soundly in his arms.

—

Bright light wakes her first. There’s a few, beautiful seconds of peace before the throbbing begins.

Aurora groans loudly, hand flying to shield her eyes. Timidly, she stretches her legs out slowly, to avoid the wave of searing pain through her skull. She has a memory of Mat’s hands touching her, dragging their way up her body, but she can’t decide if that was real or just a dream. Judging by the empty space next to her in bed, she assumes it was a dream.

She gropes for her phone on the bedside table—thankful that she had the foresight to plug in her phone in her inebriated state—and opens Instagram. Dante’s green Close Friends story bubble is one of the first she sees. The video that lies within makes her groan: it’s Aurora, illuminated by the dim, disco lights of the bar they ended up at in Rockville Centre, making an absolute fool of herself dancing. If you can even call it dancing. It’s more like a series of unhinged, discombobulated movements that barely follow the pulse of the music playing over the speakers.

But Mat Barzal is in the background, watching her like she put the stars in the sky. His eyes are warm, and the smile on his face is soft, relaxed; a look of adoration. Of love.

[Gina:] Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Mat? [Gina:] Dude is looking at you like you just birthed his firstborn on Dante’s story  [Gina:] Wait, he didn’t knock you up, did he?

Aurora snorts at the texts from her pseudo-sister. 

[Aurora:] Funny enough, your brother asked me the same thing [Aurora:] And no, he did not knock me up  [Gina:] Still waiting on the answer to my first question

Aurora is halfway through typing a message (“I’ll call you when I get home”) when she hears the front door open and close. A few seconds later, there’s a gentle knock at the door before a messy-haired Mat pokes his head in. “G’morning, sunshine.”

She groans, throwing the blanket over her head in an attempt to shield herself. “Can you stop yelling?”

He laughs, and though it’s lovely, the sound pierces her brain with a fiery stake. “So you don’t want me to tell you there’s bagels in the kitchen?”

Aurora peeks her head out from under the comforter. “Bagels, you say?”

“Bagel sandwiches,” he corrects. “Best on Long Island.”

Contemplating for a moment, Aurora glances at the glass of water on the nightstand, along with the two Advil sitting by it. He must have put them there this morning. She downs then, throws on a sweatshirt, and trudges into the kitchen behind Mat.

Aurora is convinced the bagel sandwiches have magic in them, reinvigorating her brain and hitting just the right spot. The two of them chew in silence for a while, Mat choosing to give her a few minutes to come back to life.

When he senses the medication might have kicked in, he speaks, slowly. He isn’t sure why he’s feeling so nervous. “Are you sure you have to go back today?”

She laughs and nods. “Sadly, I do have to get back to my actual job that I haven’t quit yet.”

“Just saying, you can come and be my roommate–free of charge. You just gotta do the dishes and help with a little laundry.”

Aurora’s eyebrow raises, taking a long sip of the hot mug of coffee he’d placed in front of her ten minutes ago. “So you want a live-in maid?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Mat trails off with a laugh. “Really though. When are you supposed to hear back?”

“They just said in a couple weeks,” she shrugs. Only a few more weeks before life could change forever.

Something in their goodbye is different; a little bit timid, maybe even hesitant, but neither call it to attention. Mat gives her a squeeze in the departures lane, wishing her a safe flight, and Aurora promises to keep him updated on the job.

He watches her slip between the sliding doors, watching her figure retreat until he can’t see her anymore.

January 2023 — Vancouver, British Columbia 

Aurora huffs, blowing the hair out of her eyes as she concentrates on her phone in her hand. She types, deletes, then re-types her message. 

I got the job. 

Her finger hovers over the button to send, heart pounding. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous, not exactly, but she knows there’s a lot of weight behind those four words, knows that they have the potential to change everything. For her. For him. Everything.

[Mat:] Congratulations! Told you you’d kill it. 😊

The text is followed by a gif of Buddy the Elf, and Aurora almost snorts at the stupidity of it. She takes a breath, almost… disappointed? If nothing else, she was expecting a bit more excitement, more fanfare. 

Aurora presses down on the message and gives it a thumbs up.

Three hours later, she’s on the phone with Gina, gushing over the excitement of her job offer. She hasn’t even accepted it, but she’s still wistfully dreaming of how she might decorate her Manhattan apartment, anticipating the charm—among other things—of being in the greatest city in the world. 

Gina senses Aurora’s hesitation before she even says anything. “But…”

“…but if I go, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my heart broken.” She can hear Gina contemplating on the other line, probably debating how to deliver her latest blow of hard-hitting advice.

Gina’s next sentence is quiet, but confident. “You just need to talk to him, ‘Ror.”

“I know.”

Aurora’s phone buzzes, but it isn’t until she gets off the phone with Gina a few minutes later that she sees the second text appear on her screen.

[Mat:] so, we gonna do this? [Aurora:] do what?

She watches the text bubbles appear, then disappear. The seconds feel like an eternity before a FaceTime call is popping up, a photo of 17-year-old Mat with upside down sunglasses on. Sliding to answer, she’s greeted by the sight of Mat, arm resting behind his head, silver chain peeking out of the hem of his white t-shirt. His hair is ruffled, and he’s looking at the camera with a knowing smirk.

“You and me,” he says simply. It takes Aurora a few moments to realize he’s responding to her text—and a few more before she realizes what he’s saying.

“You–are you—what?”

“You know, give it the old college try.” He offers a cheeky shrug of his shoulders, a flash of his charming smile.

“Mat, are you asking me out?”

“Were you expecting a grand proposal with roses and champagne?”

She ignores his snigger, too frenzied to acknowledge his sarcastic quip. Instead, she opts to get to the real question she has burning a hole in her chest. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’ve been waiting for a chance with you since we were 15, ‘Rora. Jus’ never had one ‘til right now.”

Aurora’s jaw drops, words completely absent from her brain. This was everything she’d wanted to hear for the better part of a decade, and here he is, as casual as if he was asking her to pass the salt at the dinner table. 

Mat’s waiting for a response, so she shakes off the surprise and does her best to gather her composure. She isn’t sure what to feel: elated, irritated, and skeptical, and everything in between. “And you never thought to tell me you felt this way?”

He shrugs. “Jus’ did, didn’t I?”

Aurora resists the laugh at the simplicity of his Boy Brain. “Mathew Michael Paul Barzal, if you are fucking with me and this is some shit idea of a joke—”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” he says, then a glint takes over in his eyes. “I would like to be fucking you, though.”

An exasperated sigh leaves her throat, though she begrudgingly notes the way her stomach flips at his statement. “Can you not do—that—for five minutes, please? This is a lot of information to take in.”

Mat hums an apology, not really sorry. He watches the way she puts her phone down, his view now the slowly spinning ceiling fan in her apartment bedroom. He can hear the sigh, the sound of her feet padding slowly on the hardwood floor–pacing.

“I’m serious, Aurora.” He announces it out, loudly, maybe a little more formally than he expected. 

Her forehead peeks over the camera, frizzy, unstyled post-shower waves falling over her face. “Fuck, Mat.”

“You could come live with me in Garden City,” he says. “Take the subway in on the days you go into work. Could set up an office for you in the den.”

“Mat, I’m not fucking moving in with you when I don’t even know what this is,” she says, exasperated, ignoring the thought he’s clearly put into it all. She hears the words he’s saying, but after almost a decade of missed connections, crushed hopes, and mixed messages, she’s hesitant to really take them to heart. It’s a defense mechanism, not willing to trust him even though she’s pretty sure he’s serious. “Do you realize how insane you sound?”

“M’not,” he says, shakes his head for emphasis. “It’s always been you, Ror.”

At that, Aurora has to sit down, the weight of the words smacking her clean in the chest. She can feel the magic, the warmth, the fuzzies enveloping her heart, ready to soar into the clouds at what he’s saying. At the same time, she’s confused, uncertain, maybe a little angry. More frustrated than mad, really, but she knows she deserves an explanation all the same.

“Why haven’t you said anything this entire time? It’s been years, Mat. I’ve loved you since we were fifteen—waiting this whole time to hear you say this, to give me any fucking clue that maybe you felt the same way.”

He looks like a puppy who has been scolded for destroying a roll of toilet paper. Then, “You think I don’t want to be with you?”

“You never gave a sign. You never even acknowledged what happened between us.”

It’s the first sign of any remorse when Mat sighs, his eyes cast down from the camera. “I—I thought it was casual. We’ve lived so far apart I just thought—”

“—thought it wasn’t worth it?”

“No,” he says quickly, looking up to meet her gaze. “I thought you wouldn’t want to do it. The distance.”

“Thought you regretted it,” she admits. Her voice is so quiet Mat barely hears it.

“Regret sleeping with the girl I’ve been in love with since I was in high school? Yeah, okay,” he snorts. “My only regret is that we haven’t been doing it all this time.”

Aurora hums, overwhelmed by his confession—if you can call it that—and the influx of feelings that have inundated her chest. What he’s saying makes sense, in a twisted, boy-math kind of way.

“What does being—” she swallows the word girlfriend like a disgusting cough syrup. “—together look like?”

“Whatever you want it to look like.”

“What do you want it to look like?”

Mat hums. He thinks, envisions what calling Aurora his girl—for real, not just when he’s getting razzed by his teammates–would look like. A picture of waking up with her in his arms, sleepy and smiling. Eating takeout on the couch, her feet in his lap, sporting one of his t-shirts while they catch up on Succession. Seeing her in the stands at UBS, wearing his number on her back. Laughter, comfort, happiness. Home. 

In other words, the entire weekend he spent with her.

“Don’t say something stupid like, ‘unlimited sex’,” she adds, the dreamy smile on his face alerting her to the idea that some of his thoughts may, perhaps, be unsavory.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replies, “but now that you mention it…”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“I’m just joking, ‘Ror. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that would be top of my list. But you gotta know that you’re way more to me than just great tits and a fat ass.”

“Mat!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he says, holding a hand up as if to defend himself from her scathing tone. Aurora’s eyes roll and she scoffs, though Mat swears he sees the corner of her lip turn up just slightly. “I’d… want it to look exactly like this.”

Aurora blinks, not expecting such a simple answer—not that she had any idea of what to expect out of his mouth, ever. The concept that they’re already there, minus the labels, is… overwhelming. A little bit unnerving, because everything that flicks through her mind just feels like more and more evidence that he’s right. Dante, Gina, everyone else saw it—she’d just been blind to it the whole time.

“So,” he says slowly, afraid to pop her thought bubble. “What d’you say?”

“Wish you were here and not on FaceTime,” she mumbles, embarrassed at the vulnerability that slips out.

“I’ll get a flight to Vancouver right now, if it helps.”

Aurora smiles melancholy, and it tastes bittersweet. She knows he’s serious, would be by her side as soon as humanly possible, if she asked. But she also knows his influence will only sway her in one direction, and she needs to make sure she’s making an unbiased decision.

“Ror?”

“I–I need some space, okay?”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

—

The next week is a blur, a mess of emotions and running through the same scenarios in her head over and over again. Aurora sits at the countertop on FaceTime with Gina, dissecting the options for what feels like the thousandth time. 

“I don’t know what he doesn’t understand about space but this sure isn’t it,” she says, glancing at the bouquet of flowers sitting in a pretty—and expensive—glass vase.

“I think it’s sweet,” Gina insists. “Besides, we all know he isn’t the smartest.”

“It feels like he’s pressuring me, Gin,” Aurora says.

Gina rolls her eyes. “So he wants to show you he cares after years of burying his feelings. Sue the guy, why don’t you?”

Dusting a crumb off of the kitchen counter, scrolling through the relocation document TekStack had sent her along with her offer, Aurora sighs. Gina’s right; other than the flowers, he’d cooled it on everything else, and she missed it—the stupid memes, the goofy texts, the random (and gross) Snapchat series of him peeing in different cities. Missed him.

“Can’t wait to visit you. Keep the sex to a minimum while I’m in the guest bedroom, ‘kay?”

“Shut up!”

February 2023 — New York, New York

Mat fidgets, wiping his hands on his sides before glancing at his watch for the 16th time in five minutes. 3:17pm. Any minute now.

When he sees her coming down the catwalk, he doesn’t think twice; his strides quicken, along with the tick of his heart, and his fingers itch in anticipation. When he reaches her, he ignores the look of surprise on her face, hands cupping her jaw and pulling her mouth to his in a kiss that takes her breath away.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly when she pulls away, an expression of pure shock on her face. “Should’ve been telling you that for years. Please, please, please be mine. For real.”

The corners of Aurora’s lips twitch before they curl into a smile, and Mat has to resist the urge to kiss her again before she can even answer.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna do an elaborate proposal,” she says with a laugh. 

“Would, if that’s what it took,” he mumbles. He knows he’s being a simp, but he’s not missing this chance now that it’s right in front of him, so close he can taste it—literally. Her chapstick lingers on his lips, subtle but enough that he knows it’s all her.

“Lucky for you, Barzy, I think an airport love confession is the perfect amount of elaborate.”

SIMILAR CONTENT

The Mystery of Love* Third Time’s the Charm* Adore You

#mat barzal fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x oc #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 13: "Just Wanted To Hear Your Voice"

Timezones apart, Mountain and Aether share a late night/early morning phonecall.

Thank you very much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for the divider. <3

(this could also be for the long distance extra prompt but i digress, enjoy the fic)

Aether wakes not to his work alarm, but to the drum fill in Respite, his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He shoots up, scrambling for it in a half awake haze. He fumbles to accept the call, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Mount?" He slurs, tongue not fully cooperating yet. His mind struggles with the timezone conversion, the rest of his pack, minus Sunny, halfway across the world. "'S gotta be late over there, what's goin' on?"

There's a deep sigh on the other end, made tinny through the speakers. "Hey, Aeth. There's no emergency. Sorry if I woke you."

"Don't apologize," Aether says, tension easing from his frame as he settles back in bed, phone pinned to his ear by his shoulder as he adjusts a blanket. He doesn't have to be to the infirmary until two hours from now. There's time. And if there wasn't, he'd find a way to make time. Anything for them. "I'm awake, sweet thing. How was the Ritual?"

Another sigh, edging on a groan. "Really fucking long. I don't even want to think about how many more of these we have left. I haven't had a chance to be outside for more than five minutes in a month, nova."

Aether hisses through his teeth in sympathy. He knows second hand what being cut off from one's element feels like, a phantom pain you can't quite shake. Quintessence is everywhere, so Aether's never experienced the loss of it himself.

It's easy for the rest of them to recharge; air a constant, water everywhere on Earth, fire easy to sate with heat. Dew's preferred method of recharging is near-boiling showers, taking advantage of hotels and venues and running their hot water bills sky high. It eases both his fire and what remains of his water.

Earth is a different story, especially when the pack is moving from city to city with barely room to breathe. It's always taken a toll on Mountain, but he takes it like a champ. Though Aether will always, always, always let him vent, knows how satisfying it is to let off steam.

"I'm sorry, Mount," he hums, clearing the sleep from his eyes. He'd been dreaming, something too realistic, almost able to trick his mind that he hadn't been asleep at all, that his mattress had been warm with three ghouls' worth of body heat instead of one.

"Why'd you think it's your fault?" Mountain chuckles halfheartedly. "You in charge of scheduling or somethin'?"

Aether hums. "Maybe. You don't know," he teases. "It's late over there, Mount. You want to hang up and get some sle-?"

"No!" Mountain cuts him off suddenly, distress sharp in his tone. "No, Aeth, please, don't make me hang up."

Aether can't see him, can barely sense their bond, stretched thin with distance. He can imagine it though, the way his shoulders slump, eyes pressing shut. "Not going to make you do anything. Talk to me, sweet thing. Anything you want, just let me hear you."

Mountain sighs, and he can just barely pick up the sound of a hand dragging down his face, scraping against his stubble. Mountain normally likes a clean shave, itchy, regrowing stubble an easy way to send him into a sensory overload. But being on tour makes it difficult to keep up with the upkeep. He wonders when their next hotel day is.

"Cue's halfway through her third blanket," Mountain says slowly. Aether doesn't need to feel the bond to feel the exhaustion seeping into his voice. "We made a stop at a craft store a few days back, she came out with a literal armful of yarn. Every color under the sun. I think she cleared out an entire color's worth of baby blanket yarn. She said something about making one for Aurora."

Aether hums considerately, reaching with one hand to the purple and navy blanket that had been pushed aside in his sleep. Still as soft as the day she had shyly handed it to him, the second one she had ever made, only a few months' summoned. She's come out of her shell since, but Aether rubs the yarn between his thumb and forefinger and remembers anyways. "Aeon's gotten theirs?"

There's silence for a second, and a quiet spew of Ghoulish cursing. "Just fucking nodded like you could see me," Mountain laughs, exhausted. "The second one she made was Aeon's."

"They like it?" Aether asks, biting back a yawn, tail going ramrod straight as he stretches his back. There's the sound of a privacy curtain being pulled back, and Mountain groans softly before the curtain is pulled again.

"Had to make sure they were still out there," he explains. "They're currently burritoed up in it on the couch with Swiss."

"Don't get up and do it now," Aether says, chuffing at the mental image of the new quintessence ghoul all cozy. "But in the morning, if they're still wrapped up, send me a picture, will you, sweet thing?"

A soft chuckle. "Of course, nova. Thank you."

"What for?" Aether says.

"I dunno. Just wanted to hear your voice."

Aether chuffs, reaching for his glasses. It's almost time for him to get up out of bed. "Thank you, too, then," he says, sliding his glasses on one handed. "I miss you all terribly."

There's a long sigh, which changes halfway through into a yawn. "I don't want to hang up, Aeth." His voice is as small as Aether's heard it in years, not since the last time the pack was thrown into upheaval.

"I know, Mount. I know. But you still need to sleep, sweet thing. Call me in the morning?" Aether offers, knowing that he'll probably be on his break by the time Mountain wakes, ever the early riser.

"I'll call you in the morning," Mountain says, still a little hesitant. "I love you, nova."

Aether smiles. "Love you too. I'll talk to you soon."

#dot's writing #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain/aether #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #mushy may 2024

[slattern-femina]

my dear, don’t unfold me

A/N: slowly starting to put my stuff on different platforms- mostly on ao3 tho.

Summary: Rain didn’t exactly know where his habit came from. He normally fiddles with something, his anxious, long fingers always drumming off surfaces or picking at his bass. It calms him.

Eventually, he started picking at others.

And then he ends up using poor Phantom as, basically, a living fidget toy, overwhelming the poor quintessence ghoul in the process.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡��

Rain didn’t exactly know where his habit came from. 

He normally fiddles with something, his anxious, long fingers always drumming off surfaces or picking at his bass. It calms him. 

Eventually, he started picking at others. Swiss nearly fell to his knees anytime Rain started absentmindedly toying with his hair, horns, or tail; often leading to Rain having to bolt from the room before the multighoul got too turned on. 

Dew wasn’t particularly fond of it, as most of the time, Rain would pick at his long hair. And with the height difference, Dew was always too accessible for Rain and he would touch the fire ghoul's long hair, yanking through the knots without thinking. “Fuckin’ ow! Stop that!” Dew would snap as his head was yanked back. 

When they were cuddling, Dew made sure to have his hair in a bun, out of the water ghouls reach and long fingers. 

Mountain let him do whatever he wanted, not reacting to it at all, but also not moving. Cirrus picked him back, Aurora and Aether were too ticklish. 

Phantom, always eager to please and wanting to be psychically affectionate, immediately loves to be in Rain’s grasp. 

Phantom became like his own personal little fidget toy. Rain’s hands are always on Phantom, kneading and squeezing his lavender skin, kissing him without thinking. Phantom didn’t mind- in the slightest- he was a good ghoul who loved to make people feel good— and Rain loved touching him, his thighs, his waist, his butt, wherever he could get his hands, so it worked out.

Rain just lets his hands wander, not ever paying attention too much, letting the physical act of fidgeting calm him down. 

Rain’s eyes are fixated on the TV playing some random show Aether had put on, before walking away to the kitchen. Phantom couldn't pay attention, not when one of Rain’s big hands, with long fingers, was shoved up his shirt groping his chest and the other was haphazardly stuffed into his grey sweatpants, and under his boxers. 

Rain is toying with Phantom so silently, lithe fingers sliding over his dick and even dipping into his hole, which has grown increasingly slick with how wet Phantom's become. Occasionally, he dips down to prod at his slick entrance multiple times. 

Rain’s movements have no rhyme or reason, he's not moving quickly or with the intent to make Phantom cum, because he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. His mind is a million miles away, thinking about whatever it is that’s plaguing him, while Phantom just pants and starts stretching in his grasp, eyes glassy. 

Rain’s sloppy flicks, and occasional taps of his fingers, against Phantom’s hole, which grew so sensitive from his mindless playing. Sometimes, when something pulls his attention away, Rain will stop touching the quintessence ghoul completely until - until the mindless desire the fidget and touch something returns to him.

Phantom's sitting with his back against the ghoul's chest, situated between Rain’s long legs. The water ghoul looks pretty, with his dark hair tied out of his face and his blue eyes fixated on the human-made screen. 

Rain can't see the panting, dazed look on Phantom’s pretty, freckled face from the fleeting pleasure he is giving Phantom, without even realizing it. He’s edging the poor ghoul in his arms- without even cluing in. 

Rain isn’t even hard or turned on. 

Phantom is little else than a plaything to calm his nerves. For how observant Rain can be, he can also be oblivious from time to time. If he was listening, he could hear the wet noises following his fingers, or even hear Phantom panting, even though the sweet bug is trying hard not to distract Rain in his downtime. 

As Rain’s long, and slick, fingers glide over Phantom’s hardened cock, absentmindedly squeezing and stroking, before once again stopping his movements. Phantom’s eyes roll back in his head and he arches, but has his lip bitten raw, to keep quiet. 

As a commercial break rolls, Phantom finally breaks his quiet demeanour as a low whine comes out of his neck. Phantom is so hard and wet from being touched and edged, but no release; he’s almost in physical pain. 

The noise finally stirs Rain, who jolts a bit and looks down at the ghoul in his arms. His pretty eyes take in the ghoul; hot, flustered, teary-eyed. He also finally releases how wet his fingers are. 

“Oh, shit, bug- I’m sorry,” Rain says and goes to move away; but that makes Phantom snuffle and his hips buck, begging for a release.

“No… please… hurt’s now… need-” Phantom mumbles, overwhelmed and precious faces.

Rain is only more than happy to oblige, pressing kisses to the ghoul’s jaw and neck, as his long fingers go back to Phantom’s aching hole, dipping in and out before stroking the hardened cock too. 

Phantom is crying pretty purple tears, just nodding as his legs fall loose in between Rain’s. The water ghoul kisses him, his face pressed into the crook of Phantom’s neck. 

Rain’s skilled fingers are quick, albeit messily, stroking Phantom’s cock as the delicious mewls and cries come from Phantom's mouth, his jaw slack and he cries as his hips match Rain’s movements. 

In only a matter of moments, Phantom is fisting Rain’s grey hoodie and his body stiffens, as he swallows and chases his orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, good boy,” Rain whispers into his ear, as he draws him closer to the release. Phantom twitches and comes into Rain’s hand, making the water ghoul smirk and praise him. 

The moans dripping out of Phantom’s mouth are a thing of beauty, and Rain grunts as he drinks in the noises, his own eyes getting hazy. 

Phantom goes slack against Rain’s body, aftershocks of his orgasm making him twitch periodically as he pants to catch his breath. 

Rain smirks. “Got a little worked up there, bug,” he teases. 

Phantom pouts and drops against him. “Your fault!” 

Aether comes back from the kitchen, Dew in tow. The fire ghoul’s eyes widen as he smells Phantom’s scent and takes in the delicious sight before him of the quintessence ghoul, breathless and hot, strewn over Rain, who has gone back to fidgeting with his over-sensitive body, causing more moans and cries to come out of poor, overwhelmed Phantom.  

“I was only gone for five minutes!?” Aether nearly squeaks, his tea spewing out of his nose as he chokes, when he sees what Rain has done. 

#ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #phantom #phantom ghoul #rain #rain ghoul #rain x phantom #phantom x rain #rain is a distracted angel #spicy

[wol-fica]

-𝕄𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕦𝕥𝕖-

pairings - jennaortega x fem!writer!reader

summary - you got hired for a huge new gig as a script writer for season two of wednesday, the events after help you meet someone new…

warnings - none !

an - i’m alive, tell me i’m pretty

——————————

June 9th, 2023 Coachella Valley, CA: 1:27 PM

You were going to be late, exceedingly so. 

You had a meeting scheduled for 1:30 PM sharp, any later would cause you to lose the job. Many times you had said that you were interested in the opening, promising to be a hard worker and wonderful staff member to the writing crew for the upcoming second season of a netflix show titled Wednesday. It was everything you could ever wish for, the job was like a dream to you.

But now, your hopes of getting to write on such an incredible show are being crushed due to many unfortunate events transpiring throughout the day. 

Firstly, you woke up later than expected and had to hurry around to get yourself ready and organize your idea board that was going to be presented at the meeting. Then, the water pipe under your sink burst, causing you to have to fix it and get soaked in the process. And finally, your dryer decided to completely break down on you, which meant you needed to pull a new outfit together, which left you literally sprinting through the hallway of the building your meeting was being held at while fixing your hair to look at least decent in front of all the professionals you were going to be working with. 

Soon the door to the meeting room came into view, relief washing through you when your watch stated that it was 1:29 PM. Perfect, right on time. Gathering yourself in the final few seconds you had, you brushed out a few wrinkles in your shirt and held your chin up proudly before pushing the door open and heading inside.

“There she is!” Dave, another writer, exclaimed with a smile, “I knew she would show up…eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, my morning was hectic as hell.” You apologized, setting your stuff down and taking a seat next to your other coworker named Matt.

“No biggy, you’re right on time.” Matt said to you with a smile, pushing a fresh cup of coffee in your direction.

You took it gratefully, bringing the drink to your lips to take a sip. Everyone was seated, adjusting their papers and whatnot while you waited for the show's producers to arrive. 

“For how much they nip at our necks to be on time, they really don’t seem to feel the need to be punctual.” Aurora said from your right, resting her head in her hand.

“Stuck up, is the right description.” The lead writer, Elsa said, jotting down what seemed to be some final touches to her idea, “They will be here when it is convenient for them.”

A chorus of ‘mhmmm’s came from the group, everyone nodding in agreement while you stayed silent. Judgment wasn’t a huge thing for you, especially since you knew most of the producers and was familiar with how hectic their schedules can be with having the weight of the entire show’s production on their backs. Besides, the ones you have met so far are pretty friendly people, so you didn’t feel the need to act petty with their late arrival. 

“How was your weekend Y/N?” Matt asked you, attempting to strike up a friendly conversation, “I noticed you look a little sunburnt.”

“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled, looking down at your slightly pink arms, “I went paddle boarding at the canal, forgot to bring sunscreen.” 

“I can tell.” He said with a smile, “At least you will gain a sick tan.”

“The wonderful aftermath!” You joked, both of you laughing lightly.

Matt sucked in a breath, sipping his coffee before setting it down on the table. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the opening of the office door. 

In walked the producers, all six holding script copies and large binders full of each writer's bullet-note ideas for the next season of the show. You knew three by name, two by face, and one you have never seen before. Well, never seen was a lie, you of course have witnessed the incredible Jenna Ortega and her infamous role as THE Wednesday Addams, but you had never formally met her. The most interaction you have had together was at the premiere for season one; you were dragged along by Elsa so you could see what you were up against, and you happened to be sitting two seats away from Jenna, who had given you a curt nod when Elsa introduced you to Tim. 

“Hello everyone!” Max said, one of the two executive producers, “Sorry for being late, our meeting went longer than expected.”

“No big deal.” Dave replied, standing to shake his hand politely, “We weren’t going to start without you anyways.”

“Let’s get started shall we?” Max said, looking around the table before pausing when he saw you, “Oh Y/N! Glad you made it!”

You shyly waved, a small smile on your face as many eyes went to you, “I’m glad to be here.” 

“I’ve read some of your scripts before, very impressive in my opinion.” Another producer, face but no name, said with an approving nod. 

“Thank you.” You replied, an embarrassing blush covering your cheeks.

“Okay! So let’s go over some things…” Max said, flipping open his binder. 

Most of the meeting went smoothly, the producers listening intently to each writer's ideas for the upcoming season. You nodded and replied to questions, occasionally writing down notes here and there to store for a revision of your script. You were currently nose deep in your writing, scribbling down a few dialogue changes for a random scene you came across.

“Y/N, what about you?” Elsa asked suddenly, startling you into accidentally throwing your pencil behind you.

“Oh, um..” You set your script down, sitting up a little straighter, “Well I thought of a bit of a different approach for this season, it’s more character focused than scene directed.”

“Focused on what?”

“Well,” You cleared your throat, “I thought of dropping the whole love triangle idea, I never imagined Wednesday being interested in boys or girls while solving a murder, that didn’t make sense to me.”

You felt a sudden confidence with your words, the talk of your idea shredding away at your anxiety.

“To me, she should definitely be a lot more gruesomely funny. Bring some more gore, some more horror, some more dead things because that is what makes Wednesday so likable to the viewers. Get rid of all the boy talk and all that, I think she should be more toned to focusing on her stalker and whatever else comes with her junior year.”

“And get rid of the sappy lines.” You finished, shaking your head at the thought of some, “No offense Elsa.”

“None taken, I stay up every night hating myself for writing it.” She joked, causing everyone to laugh.

While she, Max, and one of  the other executive producers talked some more about which script to choose, you started to feel a gaze burrowing into the side of your skull. Turning to your right, your eyes caught big brown ones, full of curiosity and interest as they stared at you. 

It was Jenna, her focus on you instead of the others' conversation on the final decisions for the second season. You felt a little vulnerable under her stare, so you gave her a friendly smile and a little wave, a silent “hello!”.

She immediately smiled back, recuperating your wave with a beaming look. Her dimples appeared when she did that, catching your attention of how her nose seemed to scrunch up and how her eyes squinted in just the slightest way that made her look very cute. 

“Okay! I think that wraps up the meeting!” Max said enthusiastically, closing his binder and standing up, “Head home everyone!”

You sighed, happy to be done with work for the day. You began to gather your things, packing them into your bag and scooping your pile of notes and scripts into your arms. Matt came up beside you, handing you your pencil that you previously threw behind you.

“Don’t forget that.” He said, grinning.

“How could I?” You sneered, adjusting your bag on your back, “Are you going out with Megan again?”

He nodded, then pulled out his phone and showed that he was getting a phone call. He waved goodbye to you, heading out the door and down the hallway. You slowly followed suit, the weight of your backpack and papers making you a tad bit slower. As you walked towards the exit, a tap on your shoulder made you turn around.

It was Jenna, sporting a friendly smile.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically, holding out a hand for you to shake, “I'm Jenna, I've been trying to meet you for some time now.”

“Oh wow!” You joked, somehow taking her hand without dropping your papers, “I’m Y/N, and I didn’t know you were waiting or I would’ve come and said hi.”

“I still like to introduce myself even if people know me, it’s how I was raised.” Jenna said, slightly rocking on her heels.

“How formal of you.” You said, grinning, “Did you just want to say hi orrrrr…”

“Oh! No, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for today…?” She asked shyly, a hopeful expression on her face. 

“Not that I know of, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me?”

You seemed to restart, your mind going blank at her words. Was she asking you to hang out? Jenna Ortega wants to hang out with you?

“Uh..I mean- well…” You started to stutter, a blush climbing up your neck, “Of fucking course!”

Jenna giggled, hiding her mouth while she laughed. You scratched the back of your neck, admiring her features yet again. She was incredibly gorgeous, and you didn’t even feel ashamed when you gazed at her moving lips.

“How does Panera sound?” 

You smiled wide, your eyes lighting up at the name of your favorite restaurant. Jenna laughed yet again at your reaction, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That sounds fucking amazing.” You said, shifting your weight on your feet.

“Great!” Jenna replied, adjusting the papers in her hands, her head turning back to you, “Does 3:30 work? I have another meeting in like 15 minutes.”

“That’s perfect.” You almost mumbled, your eyes on her lips again.

Jenna smirked.

You blushed at being caught.

“I’ll see you then, cute girl.”

And then she was gone.

As soon as she was out of sight and earshot, you squealed and danced in a circle, doing a little happy dance.

A lunch date, with Jenna fucking Ortega.

Couldn’t get any better than this.

—————————

hi :)

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @house-of-lovin @rainbow-love4ever  @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @andsoigotabutterfly @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg @frasersgf @thispussyshouldcomew @rollingsins @somekindofpoet

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jennaortegaedit #jenna ortega #jenna #jenna ortega fluff #ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you