#but that only comes with time and practice I guess.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife

Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.

They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.

"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.

"Hi."

You smiled at her.

She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.

“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Ale.”

Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.

“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”

Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.

“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.

“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.

Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.

You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.

You knew that laugh very well.

“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”

“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“

“Alexia, confess!”

“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”

“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”

“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”

“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On which answer will get me in trouble.”

Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”

She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”

You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”

“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.

You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.

“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”

Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”

You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”

Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”

“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”

She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”

“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”

She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”

You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”

“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”

“Done!”

“Done!”

“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.

“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”

The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.

“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”

“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”

“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”

“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“

“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”

“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

[hubbvrd]

Love letter | Quinn Hughes

summary — in which quinn is in love with y/n the social media worker for the canucks.

pairing — quinn hughes x reader

words — 2955

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You couldn't choose who you fell in love with.

It usually happened so quickly that you hardly noticed and couldn't do anything about it.

It was actually a nice feeling to be in love. You had the feeling that the world suddenly became carefree and you walked around with a good feeling.

You were happy to see the person again and to be near them, while the warmth shot up your cheeks and your stomach tingled.

That's exactly how Quinn felt at the moment. He was in love.

A few weeks ago, he had fallen in love with the young woman y/n, who worked in social media for the Canucks.

In a joint video, in which the young woman had asked him countless questions to create content for the Canucks fans, the two of them had had a lot of fun and occasionally got a little closer to each other, so that the odd physical contact was inevitable.

Since then, Quinn had been thinking about the young woman almost constantly.

His teammates Elias and Brock would often catch him looking over at the young woman during training, who would take photos or videos and then post them on social media channels.

This was the case again today. Practice was in full swing as Quinn gripped his racket tighter and scanned the ice ring for the woman who was turning his head.

It took him a few seconds to spot her. She was standing there with a young man Quinn had only glimpsed so far and seemed to be laughing happily about something.

Every now and then, the stranger would touch her, causing Quinn to unconsciously tighten his grip on his bat and his eyebrows to furrow slightly.

"Hey man, you're staring again." Elias came to stand next to Quinn on the ice, so Quinn saw Elias adjusting his helmet out of the corner of his eye.

Quinn knew he didn't need to give Elias an excuse, because his best friend knew about the young woman and Quinn's feelings.

A few days ago, Elias had caught Quinn staring and then confronted him, but Quinn had folded not long after and told Elias everything.

After all, there were no secrets between the two best friends.

"You should finally ask her out."

Now Elias stood in front of Quinn so that he could no longer look over at the woman who had taken a liking to him.

"Elias, I-I..." Quinn began to give his team colleague another excuse, as he had done the last few times.

But he raised his gloved hand to indicate Quinn should be quiet.

As Elias began to speak, he gave the captain a serious look.

"Quinn, you have a different excuse every time. I can see how smitten you are. But the longer you hesitate, the less chance you have. I hate to say it, but I guess that guy over there is trying to get to her himself."

With a nod, Elias gestured over to the young woman and the red-haired man, who had come a little closer to her and kept grabbing her by the arm.

From a distance, Quinn couldn't interpret the expression on the young woman's face, as she was standing with half her back to him.

"And how am I supposed to do that? Just run over and pull her away from the redhead?"

A nervous expression formed on Quinn's face. The thought of simply walking over to her and approaching her made him start to sweat.

He wasn't good at approaching women, so the thought of talking to the young woman made him want to flee.

"That's actually how you do it, yes. But I have another idea." A grin formed on Elias's face as he stepped a little closer to Quinn and then whispered something in his best friend's ear.

And this idea appealed to Quinn so much that he decided to put it into practice.

"Good morning" a smile came to your lips as you greeted your colleagues and then slipped inside.

"Good morning, y/n! Good to see you." One of your colleagues, Lucy, ran up to you beaming and then pulled you into a tight hug.

Ever since you'd taken the social media job with the Canucks, Lucy and you had become instant friends.

Since then, you've been more or less inseparable. Lucy also worked for the social media team.

She usually took over the press conferences or was there for the post-match interviews, while you took care of the social media channels and shot the occasional content video.

The brunette put her arm around you as you walked side by side through the building to the small office where you had made yourselves comfortable.

The office wasn't very big, so only two desks fitted in opposite each other and two small, cozy armchairs had found their place at the other end of the wall.

Despite their small size, you loved the office more than anything, even if you spent more time on the road than in the office.

"What's on your agenda today?" You checked in with your colleague and best friend as you opened your office door and slipped into the light blue room.

On the wall behind your desk was a huge Canucks logo painted on the wall, while on the other blue-painted walls were some pictures of the team that you had taken yourself.

"I've actually just got some paperwork today and need to make a few phone calls for upcoming interviews, you?" Lucy dropped into her desk chair while you carelessly threw your jacket onto one of the chairs and then walked over to your desk.

Before you could even begin to reply, a white envelope lying on your desk caught his attention.

It wasn't unusual for you to receive mail in the morning, but this letter was different to the mail you usually received.

You could feel that directly. Slowly, you walked over to your desk as you answered Lucy curtly.

You didn't want your colleague to get suspicious.

Your name was written on the letter in curved handwriting. There was no sender or indication of where it might have come from.

This led you to conclude that this was a personal letter.

Your curiosity grew as you began to examine the letter, but made no attempt to open it.

Who wrote you a letter?

You carefully picked up the letter. It was quite light and you could feel a note through the thin envelope.

"Who did you get mail from?" You suddenly heard Lucy's voice, who had more or less caught you in the act.

"Oh, just from a customer, nothing important," you babbled and opened a drawer in your desk to carefully put the letter inside.

Your curiosity wouldn't diminish over the next hour, but you wanted to read the letter in peace and quiet, so you had to wait until Lucy left the office and you could finally be undisturbed.

But you didn't know how agonizingly slow the time would be until then.

Four agonizingly long hours passed before Lucy finally made the effort to leave your shared office to have a conversation.

After the door had slammed shut behind Lucy, you jerked out the letter, which you carefully opened and pulled out the neatly folded paper with your heart beating faster.

With trembling fingers and increasing nervousness, you unfolded the paper before placing it on the desk in front of you and began to read.

Dear y/n,

I keep looking at you, but can't touch you.

You don't know, how much l want to. want to be near you, want you to look my way.

A moment alone with you, would be beautiful. A moment alone with you, would feel eternal.

You skimmed over the words again and again. Your heart kept leaping in your chest as you read them.

You had never received such words before. In the past, you had always found it very cheesy when your friends told you that they had received love letters or wrote them themselves.

But now that you had your first love letter in front of you, it warmed your heart.

It was really sweet to read these words that were addressed directly to you.

You didn't know who this letter was from, but you wished it was a special person.

This one particular player called Quinn Hughes.

The first time you had made a video with him for social media, you had immediately noticed how well you Both got on and you had even gotten a little closer to each other at times.

Since then, you've often thought about the captain and occasionally caught yourself looking over at him and staring at him for a few seconds, lost in thought.

But what if the letter wasn't from Quinn at all, but from Alex? Alex had been very close to you recently and you had caught him looking for physical contact again and again.

Alex was a really nice young man, but you just wasn't attracted to him.

The thought that the letter could be from Alex made your face contort slightly and you put the letter aside.

Your fingers reached for the envelope, which you began to shake and shortly afterwards a small Post it note in the shape of a heart fell out.

You had completely overlooked the post it so far, so you reached for the pink note with a pounding heart and turned it over to reveal the writing.

If you're brave enough to find out who I am, meet me in the parking lot at 7 tonight.

Once again, no signature under the message. There wasn't even a single letter that would have given you any idea who had written you this sweet letter.

Your heart was almost pounding against your chest as you glanced at the bottom of my computer screen to see what time it was.

By now it was 6:30pm and so you still had some time before you would meet the unknown love letter writer.

Nervously, you started to slide around a bit on the black office chair.

You were really curious to find out who was behind the sweet lines.

But even though the message was really sweet, you were afraid that it might just be a joke.

After all, the Canucks boys had the occasional challenge and banter amongst themselves.

But had you really become one of her victims? With the best will in the world you couldn't really imagine that, as everyone was incredibly nice to you and treated you as if you'd been part of the team for ages.

Of course, you never know what makes other people tick and even though you couldn't imagine for the life of you that this letter was just a joke, you decided to be careful.

But despite all this, you wanted to know who was behind the letter and so you decided to go to the place where it was said and find out who it was.

Your heart beat a little faster against your chest with excitement and nervousness.

You hadn't mentioned the letter to Lucy once, so you had to come up with an excuse to more or less get rid of Lucy at the end of the working day an hour ago, as she was desperate to have a drink with you.

The last hour that you had spent alone in your office had gone by rather agonizingly slowly, even though you had already prepared a post or two for the next few days on social media.

But now it was time to find out who had written you the letter.

With every step you took closer to the parking lot, your heart began to beat faster and faster, making you feel like it could jump out of your chest at any second.

You buried your hands, which had become sweaty again, deeper into your jacket pockets, where your right hand played with your bunch of keys.

You were incredibly nervous, so your hand needed something to do and you were a little more distracted.

When you arrived at the parking lot, your eyes wandered nervously back and forth.

In addition to your car, there were four other cars in the parking lot, but you couldn't identify their owners.

Since you didn't know exactly where to wait in the not-so-small parking lot, you positioned yourself a little more centrally in the large parking lot so that the unknown person could easily spot you.

A glance at your cell phone display showed that it was still five minutes until 7 pm.

You used the time to take a few more deep breaths and try to calm yourself down as best you could.

Luckily, it wasn't a dark time of year, so you didn't have to be afraid of the parking lot, which was usually only dimly lit by a few lanterns in winter.

Although the weather was pretty gloomy today and the clouds were increasing, it was bright enough that you had a good view of all the creepy corners and only had to run a few meters to your car if necessary.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings and every time footsteps came closer, you looked hopefully in the direction they were coming from.

But none of them paid any attention to you and shortly afterwards, all but one of the other cars pulled away.

So the last car, which was not too far away from yours, had to be the car of the man who had written you the letter.

A few more minutes passed, during which the nervousness began to creep up inside you again.

And then suddenly the time had come.

From a distance, you could recognize someone. The person was wearing a dark blue hoodie that clearly stood out.

His hood was pulled over his head and his gaze was slightly lowered, so you couldn't tell who it was yet.

On his shoulder was a sports bag, on which you could see the Canucks logo from a distance.

So it was a player, you thought, as the stranger came closer and closer to you and your nervousness grew so much that your heart began to pound in your chest again.

He seemed to be moving in slow motion and took forever to get to you, so you started moving without thinking twice and ran towards him.

When the two of you finally came face to face, the stranger slowly lifted his head and pulled the hood off his head, revealing thick brown hair.

And your heart literally skipped a beat as you struggled not to clasp your hands over your mouth.

Because standing in front of you was none other than Quinn Hughes.

The man you had gotten a little closer to some time ago.

The man you got on well with straight away.

The man who made you laugh.

The man you couldn't stop thinking about.

"Quinn..." His name left your mouth in an almost whisper.

The person opposite you nodded in response, a shy smile on his lips and he began to clutch the handle of his sports bag like a lifeline.

Suddenly he seemed so shy and embarrassed. Very different from your video shoot.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, y/n."

"The...the letter...it's from you?" To be on the safe side, you checked again. There was a little fear in your voice because you wanted the letter to be from him.

"Yes, I wrote the letter."

Embarrassed, Quinn looked at you and ran his free hand through his thick hair, brushing a few strands that had fallen into his eyes out of his face.

"Wow...I mean...those words really touched me" You babbled on, which made Quinn's cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Really?" he asked hopefully. He couldn't seem to believe that you were reacting so positively.

You began to nod eagerly.  "Yes, really!" 

Quinn began to almost beam and seemed to spend some time searching for the right words, which made you slightly nervous.

"I'm not really good at talking, that's why Elias gave me the idea of the letter. I thought you thought this was just a joke and you weren't even going to show up, but I'm really relieved you're here."

Now it was Quinn who was babbling nervously as his left hand moved to the back of his neck, where he began to scratch himself in embarrassment.

"Really? I thought it was a joke too, since the name wasn't signed. But I was too curious and wanted to see who was here."

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, causing Quinn to start laughing as well.

"Wow...that's really something."

Quinn smirked slightly before gathering all his courage and finally the sentences he would have loved to ask you already left his mouth.

"Y/n I know this might be risky because you work for the same team as me. I don't know exactly what the contracts and agreement are here, but I think you realize there's something between us too, don't you? Would you...would you go out with me?"

His eyes looked at you with an almost hopeful expression, while your heart stumbled again and you began to feel the warmth rush to your cheeks.

And it actually didn't take you long to give Quinn a suitable answer.

Because the answer has been on the tip of your tongue for a long time and you were finally able to say it out loud.

"I would love to go on a date with you, Quinn."

#quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl oneshot #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #vancouver canucks #canucks hockey

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader Smut. Modern College AU Video call sex. Dirty talk. Daddy kink. Sex toy. Degradation. Praise. Dom!Scara

First of all, everyone, thank you so much for your supportive comments yesterday. I am okay 🥺

Scaramouche's eyes watched the clock, waiting for the agreed upon time for the video call. He had to be out of state for a family function, and he was despising every second of it. Especially that you couldn't come with him.

A text that you'd send him earlier had been the only thing occupying his mind all day. It read: "I couldn't sleep last night, so I laid awake fingering myself and thinking about you. I couldn't make myself cum, Daddy."

He really wished you had taken a video to attach to the text message.

Scaramouche couldn't have clicked the call button fast enough, his eyes immediately treated to the sight of you already naked on your bed. Your vibrator was next you. "So eager that you are already naked," He greeted, smirking in approval, "my poor little slut is so needy," His cock twitched seeing you react to the sound of his voice.

"Mhm," Your sigh was shaky as one of your hands started to drifted down between your legs. A visible shiver went through you at his degradation. It never failed to make you wet.

"Don't start touching yourself yet, slut," Scaramouche hissed, making your fingers pause over your clit. You looked at him needily in question. "You need to be punished for that teasing text message."

You huffed, frustrated as your hand dropped onto the sheets. "T-Teasing?" You asked, wanting so badly to rub your swelling clit. His voice always had such an affect on you.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Calling me Daddy and telling me you can't make yourself cum. You really should've taken a video, teasing slut. I guess I can't really be surprised that you need me to instruct you on how to play with your needy pussy," He licked his lips hearing a soft moan escaped your parted lips as you shifted restlessly on your bed.

You shivered as more wet gathered on your cunt. His harsh, domineering tone always made you so weak. It was torture to hear him degrade you that way and not be touching you, or fucking his cock into you.

"Please, Daddy, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise," You pleaded, rubbing your thighs together.

Scaramouche sat back on his bed, and palmed his hardening cock. "Now, spread your legs like the good girl you promised to be. Let Daddy see how wet you are," He could practically see you melting as you spread your legs, giving him a view of your wet and puffy pussy.

He let out a hum of approval. You spread your folds for him hesitantly, looking at him submissively for permission to touch yourself. He nodded. "Slowly stroke and rub your clit," He commanded, his eyes following your fingers as they found your clit.

You let a soft moan, slowly pressing circles on your clit. You felt it throb under your fingers, your hips rocking up into your fingers for more friction. His cock was straining hard in his pants watching your fingers dance on your clit.

"A little bit faster, pinch your clit. Tease your fingers at your pathetically messy hole," He groaned as he freed his cock from his pants. He watched your fingers roll your clit, your hips jerking off the bed as louder moans sounded from you.

Scaramouche's cock pulsed in his hand, squeezing it briefly before pumping his hand. The tips of your fingers prodded at your entrance, scooping your juices onto your fingers before sweeping them back up to your clit.

He was purposely making you use your fingers first, knowing that you couldn't make yourself cum. His cock only pulsed more with anticipation of you repeating your text message to him.

"Good ahead, whore," Scaramouche moaned, pumping his hand faster on his cock, "Fuck one finger into that needy cunt of yours. Tell Daddy how much you want him," He so desperately wanted to see you lose yourself in your desire for him.

You gasped in pleasure as you heeded his command. You slowly pumped it in and out of yourself, your eyes glued to the screen as you watched him jack himself off. It aroused you further, you picked up the pace of your finger.

You writhed on the bed, giving him the utter vision Scaramouche craved to see. Your moans were starting to sound frustrated as you desperately curled and pumped your finger in and out of you. You barely heard his next commands to pinch your nipple and push a second finger inside you.

You scissored your walls apart, your legs shaking as you barely brushed just short of hitting your sweet spot. You pinched your nipple for extra stimulation, but it provided you little relief. "I..I can't make myself cum, Daddy," You whimpered, your hips bucking into your fingers.

Cum almost spurted onto his hand when he hard you call him Daddy. Your cheeks heated hearing his aroused moan. "That's right, slut. Cry for Daddy to help you cum," He groaned, rutting his cock into his hand.

"Help me, please, Daddy," You pinched and rubbed your clit, your hand grasping the sheets tightly. Your fingers squelched lewdly in and out of you, making you sloppier mess in your frenzied desperation.

Scaramouche decided you'd had enough. You were so dazed from his degrading teasing, your body twitching with the need to cum that you couldn't think. "You poor, pathetic slut, you can't even make yourself cum. Turn your vibrator on and rub it on your clit," He instructed behind a moan.

Your fingers shook as your hand groped around for your vibrator. You let out a relieved moan feeling the toy hum on your throbbing clit. Your back arched as you grinded your cunt against the toy. "Only Daddy can help me cum," You babbled, your pussy clenching sensitive around nothing.

Scaramouche had to fight not to roll his eyes into the back of his head as he fisted his cock. He wouldn't dare look away from the screen, not when you looked so fucking beautiful writhing and fucking your cunt onto your vibrator.

He massaged and pinched the head of his cock, one his hands reaching down to squeeze and massage his balls. "Fuck it inside yourself and moan about how much you wish it was Daddy's cock."

Your pussy immediately clenched around the toy when you pushed it inside of you. You were breathless, pleasure bursting white hot behind your eyes as vibrations hummed against your sweet spot. "I wish this was your cock, Daddy. I want it inside of me. I need it inside of me," You gave him exactly what he was asking for.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl," Scaramouche chanted, right on the cusps of his orgasm. Your pathetic pleads and moans, the lewd sounds of the vibrator squelching wetly in and out of you were only ushering it in faster. "Fucking cum for Daddy," He growled.

You finally came undone, your walls squeezing around the vibrator as you squirted. You shook from the intensity of your orgasm. Incoherent cries of Daddy tore from your throat.

Cum ribboned onto Scaramouche's hand hearing your cries, his legs shaking as he fisted his cock through his orgasm.

You were always such a a good girl for him.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

[simplyreveries]

Hi hi I just seen your new post and I came running.

Feel free to deny or anything like that. This is a platonic Diasomnia with a gn reader who sees Lilia as a father figure and is around Silver's age and sees Silver, Malleus, and Sebek as brothers.

diasomnia

they're already a pretty tightknit group and family with one another, it's no different with you around. in fact, I'd say they have more of a protective nature, that's usually with someone like malleus or silver even if it isn't always obvious-- they're always looking out for you in each of their own ways. whether or not you reside in ramshackle, diasomnia is basically your home now since you're there most of the time.

lilia is his typical playful self with you, but since you're so close you him, yes you are succumbed to eating his "meals" that he so graciously goes out of his way to make for you. I guess it's the thought that counts. but the number of times he has made you treats like a birthday cake on special occasions and it being awful is too many times to count. also, its canon i think that lilia cuts his own hair and does silvers... he will 100% try to do the same to you be warned. he will want to dye it too.

he also gets genuinely proud and praises for things you've done well in... he is so supportive. but he has this attitude of already knowing that you could do it anyway. with all of his energy around you he also can be completely comforting and consoling for any of your troubles. you literally cannot hide anything from him, he knows you too well enough to have you act like something isn't bothering you and making you upset. truthfully, he is so keen and observant he probably will already know what the issue even is- but he'll gently remind you to let it out and be open with him.

malleus is more of the quieter type around you, that looks quite intimidating whenever he is lurking beside you. but he is as doting as he can be to someone like you, he holds dearly. you're one of the few people, along with the others in your little circle of family in diasomnia. he considers it to be precious and very special to him. it's funny how he doesn't seem to react any indifferently if you wanted to something as uncharacteristic for him like you make flower crowns from the courtyard and putting them on him.

as i have mentioned, yes, he does have slight tendency to be protective of you- he certainly has told you some of his... distaste for anyone in the school when it comes to anything romantic for you. and for the love of all things, it better not be someone like leona. I'd genuinely love to thing about how that would play out.

I think silver shows his care for you in ways such as teaching you how to use a sword and defense. he looks out for you like that, he does enjoy having someone to train and practice with anyway. he is slightly awkward when it comes to doing things like giving advice, but he wants to look more respectable and someone you can look up to in your eyes. It's just... he is a sheltered guy who has spent his life living with faes he has no clue how to navigate most social things too. he IS someone who will listen to you always though even if he doesn't have the words.

he trusts you a lot and always asks you to make sure you help him stay awake during the day-- if you catch him dozing off you have permission to shake or nudge him awake. if its you thats dozing off he'll mumble something about you "not getting enough sleep" but he lets you have your peace around him.

you're like the only person who can somewhat get away with teasing or messing around with him. like he'll always react upset btu you still can do it. he slightly changes his negative views and annoyances with humans, you're like this exception he's felt along with silver. he'll still grudging call you human but its not with the amount aggression he may have with others haha. like silver, he enjoys practicing the sword with you, but its more of a challenge that he enjoys having.

he also forces you to study with him if he feels that you're struggling, he tries to make it not seem like he's looking out for you. he always chastises you for always getting caught up into trouble with the other first years like ace, deuce, and grim. may or may not think they're a bad influence sometimes when it comes to what they get themselves in.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #LOL kinda long mb #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #sebek zigvolt #twst imagines #twst hcs #not proofreadd

[luvkyu]

loveholic ( jeong jaehyun )

jaehyun x male!reader

jaehyun just wants some boyfriend time

content : 1k words, fluff, established relationship, baby jaehyun agenda, uni au, baby/babe petnames, showering together ( sfw )

jaehyun bit the inside of his cheek as he continued to stare off into the distance, scanning the different faces that passed. his boyfriend was late. well, later than he usually was. jaehyun hadn't even agreed to meet him at a certain time, he just knew y/n's schedule, and he knew that y/n took this way back to his dorm after his class. he totally wasn't borderline obsessed.

"jaehyun? you coming?"

jaehyun looked over at doyoung and the rest of his friends, who were on their way back home after a long study group session. he quickly shook his head before turning his attention back to finding y/n.

doyoung let out a small scoff, unsurprised. jaehyun always seemed to put his boyfriend first, but his friends didn't necessarily mind. everyone knew y/n was jaehyun's world, and seeing their friend happy was enough.

"okay, we're heading to the party after we drop our stuff off at the dorms, so see you later." doyoung smiled while waving. jaehyun only nodded again as doyoung turned with the others and left him alone.

jaehyun sighed lowly. maybe y/n went a different way today? he pulled out his phone and rushed to hit the call button next to y/n's name.

after it a rang a few times, jaehyun finally heard his boyfriend's sweet voice coming through.

"hi, love."

"y/n!!"

y/n laughed softly at jaehyun's enthusiasm, "what's up?"

"are you done with your class? i'm waiting for you by the benches."

"oh, i agreed to get dinner with my friend tonight remember? i took a different way to go with her," y/n explained.

"oh, right.."

y/n could practically hear jaehyun's pout through the phone. he smiled to himself and quickly came up with a solution.

"tell you what, i'll come straight to your dorm after dinner and we can spend all night together. sound good?" he offered instead.

"mm, i guess."

"and i'll give you as many kisses as you want."

"alright, deal," jaehyun accepted, unable to keep his smile at bay.

"okay, see you soon!"

"bye, baby," jaehyun replied before ending their call.

jaehyun sighed and lowered his headset around his neck. he was trying to kill time by playing video games. it worked for the first couple hours, but now all he could think of was what time y/n would arrive.

just as he got up to go grab a drink, a knock finally sounded at his door. his eyes widened in hope while he skipped over to answer it.

"hi!" y/n chimed. he knew jaehyun was just about the most impatient man there was, so he tried his best to rush over to his room.

"y/nn," jaehyun hummed while pulling him inside. "missed you."

y/n smiled as his boyfriend held his face and placed small kisses all over him. y/n's hands lifted around jaehyun's waist, happy to accept the affection.

"how's my boy?" jaehyun asked once he finally stopped kissing. y/n blushed at those words.

"i'm alright. kinda tired.. you?"

"i'm good now that you're here," jaehyun answered quickly. "are you physically tired or mentally tired?"

"both."

jaehyun frowned. "wanna sleep?"

y/n shook his head, securing his arms tightly around the other in a warm hug. "no, i wanna be with you for a while."

jaehyun smiled. he was hoping for that answer. he cupped y/n's face again, kissing his lips this time.

"can i take a quick shower in your bathroom?" y/n asked.

"only if i can join."

y/n rolled his eyes and stepped away from jaehyun, his arms falling.

"we both know where that would go. i just want a quick wash."

jaehyun's lower lip poked out, grasping at the hem of y/n's shirt. "i promise no funny business! i just wanna be with you."

y/n stared at him with narrow eyes for a second. he sighed and nodded, "fine."

jaehyun instantly perked up. he gave y/n one more kiss on the cheek.

"thank you, babe."

y/n watched jaehyun skip into the bathroom happily, starting the water in his shower.

"i am dating a literal baby," y/n mumbled to himself before following after him.

jaehyun was already undressed and in the shower before y/n could blink. he found it amusing how jaehyun's demeanor always changed once they were alone. jaehyun needed a lot of attention and physical touch, but he hated being clingy around his friends. y/n didn't mind it though. if anything, he just found it adorable.

jaehyun watched as y/n slipped his shirt and bottoms off before he stepped into the shower with him. y/n was quick to duck his head under the water and rub his face in exhaustion. jaehyun reached up to help soak y/n's hair, his large hands gently threading through the other's locks.

a few moments passed in comfortable silence. y/n closed his eyes and let the water continue to run over him, while jaehyun watched with a content smile.

"long day?"

y/n only nodded at the question.

"can i do anything to help?" jaehyun asked.

y/n moved away from the water and wiped his face. he smiled and gave his boyfriend a light kiss on his lips.

"you already help so much, baby."

jaehyun couldn't help but grin at that reply. his dimples and pretty smiling eyes were y/n's favorite view.

"just keep being my jaehyun, okay?"

jaehyun quickly nodded before cupping y/n's face and kissing him again.

"i love you," jaehyun mumbled against his lips. he began moving down y/n's neck, trailing light open mouth kisses against his skin. y/n felt heat instantly rush to his cheeks.

"i love you too, jae.. let's not get carried away though."

jaehyun pulled away, still with his beaming smile, and nodded.

"okay, okay," he gave in.

taglist ★! :

@kssyivo @jaemmphilia @vkooksupremacy @haocovr @astrozuya @themiddlefingerinthesky @dontwannaexsist

#kpop x male reader #male reader #nct x male reader #nct x reader #nct #nct fanfic #nct ff #nct fluff #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

[zivazivc]

What kind of nu metal music fits Les's band?

First of all I gotta clarify that I sent this ask myself because I accidentally lost the original through constant editing and drafting. I realize I could just make a regular text post but I'm quirky like that, and a question is a nice little attention grabber for those who are interested.

Anyway...

It's hard to point at one song and say this is their sound, because A: I'm picky, B: the band's style changes over time, and C: I don't know what I'm doing lmao

This answer is very long uhh I don't seem to be able to form short responses, mi scusi 😅

Back at home the brothers' music and then also the first year on the road with Flea the band sounds like the albums Music and especially Grassroots by 311. (Grassroots is such a banger of an album, I listen to it all the time, really recommend.)

Hed's the main influence on the band's sound because he's the main vocalist, songwriter and overall the most invested in the band succeeding (Les's main concern is making ends meet, and Flea is just enjoying the ride lol). At the start Hed and Les have had basically no contact with Rock Trolls so even though they're both more metal/punk than regular rock, their "rock side" is softer at this point. Hed also grew up with hip hop because of his peers so there's a lot of rapping in his lyrics. And he also incorporates reggae into his style a lot because of his favorite uncle, Kymani (one of the guys who live with Ish) who is a Reggae Troll. Hed is pretty much a sponge when it comes to music, much like Floyd. The closest I can come to describing his genre is a fusion of Rap Metal and Reggae Rock which are both already fusion genres jskksdjsk

(The band 311 has two singers and oddly they both sound like Hed and Les to me. SA Martinez (the higher of the two voices) sounds 100%, exactly like how I've imagined Hed's voice in my head. For Les I have a different voice claim because Les's personal style of music is much different from the band, but Nick Hexum (the lead vocalist here) is still in the second place when it comes to voice alone. Imagine my enthusiastic surprise finding voices for both brothers in the same band 😄)

examples from the two albums:

...

While driving around and performing small gigs they come in contact with the alternative and nu metal scene and meet a lot of Rock Trolls (mostly various Metal Trolls) and other mixed trolls, and in the following couple of years their sound gradually becomes heavier (Hed rediscovers screamo lol) and they go from rock to metal.

A year into their "touring" is also around the time Hed meets and starts dating Liv and gets her to join the band. Liv's genre has the heaviest sound of all of them (Industrial/EBM), which influences Hed and the band too. And with Liv on the drums, Hed takes over DJ-ing and is also able to put more focus on the vocals, which also makes Les step down and only sing backing vocals with the rest of the band if needed.

The band in this era sounds like the album Revolution by Insolence and to some degree Introduction to Mayhem by Primer 55.

examples from the albums:

...

Two years into the bands existence is when Floyd runs into them. At first he's more just standing there, observing their practices and performances warily, because he's had bad experiences with Rock Trolls in his one year alone and metal music still kinda freaks him out at this point. But he soon starts joining in in melodic parts and then it progresses into him singing longer and longer segments because he has the strongest vocals of everyone. And once he saves enough of his earnings for a guitar he starts playing the rhythm guitar too. (The guitar he took with him when he left the Troll Tree got stolen before he met the band.)

I guess I should clarify: Flea is the lead guitarist, Les is the bassist, and Liv and Hed switch on the drums and DJ-ing depending on the track. At one point they also get a keyboard.

It's also not that long before Hed and Floyd start actively writing songs together, sharing each others notes, and they start to split the singing parts more evenly. Hed even teaches Floyd screamo techniques, because he thinks Floyd has a great voice for them (He is correct, Floyd has a mean scream 😁).

During this time the band still pretty much sounds like Revolution by Insolence but with more melodic singing parts from Floyd (and screaming/shouting lmao). I think Verge of Umbra is another good band to compare, it sounds more clean and Floydy but still Hedy. (Man, I should write scientific research papers skjdkjf)

↑↑↑ song with the lyrics from the drawing at the top

From here on out I'm a bit unsure how the band's sound develops, but I'm pretty sure Floyd would unintentionally infect them with a mild case of radio friendliness (Pop trolls can't help their in your face nature lmao 😞). So for now I'm stopping here...

This took me days of searching and writing so I would appreciate to hear any thoughts you have if you've come this far and given some of the songs a listen. :)

#i spent way too much time on this rip #but i'm happy i did all the research bc now i have an album to point to that sounds a lot like what i had in my mind for the band #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls floyd #trolls oc #ex bandmates #hed #les #liv #flea #answered #my art #long post #music #nu metal #alternative metal #insolence #insolence band #primer 55 #verge of umbra #311 #311 band

[deltaharrington]

SHARING IS CARING

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Bokuto Koutaro x Fem!Reader x Hinata Shoyo

SUMMARY: Bokuto’s close friend, and teammate, Hinata is inexperienced when it comes to women, so Bokuto decides to share his girlfriend as practice…

WARNINGS: NSFW content, MINORS DNI, sexual content, kinda poly?, group mastrubation, etc. Timeskip Bokuto and Hinata (THEY ARE CONSENTING ADULTS)

Dating a professional volleyball player came with its ups and downs.

Bokuto was the perfect boyfriend by all means, but that didn’t distract from the fact that he had to travel a lot, and with your work schedule, you couldn’t always make it to games.

As much as he loved seeing you at his games, Ko understood that you wanted to work. (Even though he’d argued plenty that his own income was enough for you both).

At times when you were separated, he’d have more time with the MSBY team.

Especially Hinata.

It was no surprise that his star pupil had grown since high school. He was taller, more experienced, and a complete catch.

So when the ginger expressed that he hadn’t had any luck with woman, Ko was shocked.

“I’ve never even touched a woman, Bokuto-san!” The ginger whined in the locker room after a game. All of the other boys had left, and the pair always went back to the hotel together.

“I feel like….I don’t know how” He added and Bokuto raised a brow at the revelation. “Like..you! I see the damn scratch marks Y/N gives you, so you must be doing something right” Hinata said, his cheeks flushing a bit.

“Are you saying I’m good in bed. Shoyo?” Bokuto teased and the ginger groaned and huffed, shaking his head a bit.

“Can you teach me? Or…tell me how you do it?” Hinata asked “I can flirt and get girls just fine, but when we go to have sex- I don’t think I know how to please them enough”

Bokuto understood that better than anyone. When you two first began dating, he was more than inexperienced and he was terrified he wasn’t doing anything right.

It took practice, and soon enough, you were putty beneath Bokuto when you had sex. He was an absolute God in bed.

If only he had someone to teach him.

“I have a proposition for you, Hinata” Bokuto said before he sat next to the ginger on the locker room bench. “If Y/N is okay with it, I’ll let you borrow her for practice” He said.

Hinata nearly gaped at the offer. “Bokuto- I couldn’t do that! She’s your girlfriend!”

“Sure you can my man! I’m completely okay with it, if it’ll boost your confidence.” Bo said “And Y/N is good at this stuff! She helped me!” He said.

So it was settled. Now to get your permission.

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to let Hinata fuck you, he needs the practice” Kotarou said like it was nothing.

“I- what made you think of this?” You asked, shocked.

You’d just been lounging on the couch with Bokuto when he brought the topic up. He’d just gotten home and you were spending as much time together as you could before he had to leave again.

“He was stressing about pleasing women, and I was like that when I met you” Bokuto explained. Oh. So he felt bad for him.

“I…I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to it” You mumbled and he smiled. “Only if you’re there” You added and he nodded with a stern look on his face.

“I have to guide him- I’m not sending him in blind” Bokuto said “And besides, you are mine after all” He added and you rolled your eyes playfully.

The idea had your mind racing with not-so-pure thoughts. Having two big guys pleasing you? Oh god. You hoped you wouldn’t regret this…

“How’s next week sound, pretty girl?” Ko said and you nodded your head, the nerves in your stomach swirling at the mere thought of showing your boyfriend’s best friend how to fuck properly.

The night of the…uh act? You didn’t know what to call it, but it came quickly. Bokuto planned on bringing Hinata over for dinner and then afterwards “the fun would happen”, as your boyfriend put it.

He requested that you wore his favorite set, as he planned on getting in on the action too. He wasn’t fond of being left out, especially not by Hinata.

The poor ginger boy was a blushing mess when he arrived at your apartment, and you tried to calm him down with small talk, but that only seemed to heighten his nerves.

“Hey, Hinata” You spoke as he picked at his dinner, his cheeks properly flushed and his hands shaking like a leaf. Poor guy.

“No need to be nervous, think of this like volleyball practice” You said and he began to lighten up after that. Thank the Gods.

Once dinner was over and everything was cleaned up, Bokuto led you both to the bedroom, having Hinata sit in the chair near your bed so he could watch first.

Bokuto stood looming over you with a hungry look in his eyes. Your cheeks heated up at this, glancing to Hinata to see nearly the same look in his eyes.

Oh fuck.

“The first thing you have to nail is the way you kiss someone…like this” Bokuto said and moved to you, gently cupping your cheek before leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. You almost immediately moaned into his mouth just by the mere passion in his actions, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Hinata watched intensely as you two made out, watching as Bokuto’s hands trailed to your waist and slipped under your shirt, gently squeezing at your plush hips.

Hinata was nearly a mess just watching something this intimate up close.

Bokuto pulled away, a small string of saliva connecting your mouths. A sheepish smile crossed your features he smiled. “Now she’s shy…” He teased before waving Hinata over.

Shoyo stood and made his way to you like he was a magnet, his eyes glued to yours.

“Your turn” Bokuto said and Hinata did as told. He gently cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to look at him before his lips met yours.

A gasp emitted from you as Hinata pulled your body flush to his, his large hand slipping under your shirt and traveling up your back.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and your hands caught in his hair, gently tugging at the shorter strands near the nape of his neck, earning a grunt in response from him.

When Hinata pulled away, the same string of saliva held you together like with Bokuto.

“H-How was that?” He asked and scratched the back of his neck.

“Hinata..you were perfect, you did exactly what Bokuto would have” You said and your boyfriend smiled wide.

“See? You’ve got this ginger!” Bokuto said and gave you a smirk, moving to stand behind you.

“Stay in front of her” Your boyfriend ordered and Shoyo nodded his head. “Now, let’s get these off, hm?” He said and gently raised your shirt over your head, revealing the, nearly see through, bra you were wearing. He did the same with you pants, leaving you in your matching panties.

Hinata was a blushing mess “You’re so beautiful” He muttered and you blushed a bit.

Bokuto gently wrapped his arms around you from behind and you leaned into him. His hands trailed up and began to grope at your tits, emitting a small whine from you.

“She’s super sensitive, which means she’s very vocal…she’ll tell you if she doesn’t like something” Bokuto said and Hinata nodded his head profusely.

Bokuto’s right hand slid down your front and then into your panties, making your cheeks flush.

His middle finger found your clit and he began circling at a fast pace, causing you to throw your head back and let out a loud moan.

This lasted a bit, and Hinata was watching as you nearly fell apart in Bokuto’s arms.

“I like to play with her a bit, mark her up, bring her right to the edge…” Bo said right as you were close to cumming. He then stopped his movements, earning a pout from you.

“We’ve gotta let Hinata in on the action too, sweetheart” Bokuto said and you nodded “He can make you cum”

Hinata and Bokuto switched positions and you expected Hinata to have some trouble finding your clit, but he found it almost immediately, and he absolutely went crazy, his middle finger moving in circles at an ungodly pace.

“Hinata! Shit- that feels so good!” You cried out. His left arm supported your body weight as you leaned into him, loud and unpredictable moans leaving your throat.

“Fuck! Can I cum?” You asked and Hinata looked to Bokuto, who shrugged.

“It’s up to you Hinata” The man said and Hinata smirked a bit.

“Mm not yet, hold on a bit longer for me” The ginger cooed and you cried out in desperation.

“Please! Shoyo!” You begged and he hummed in confirmation before you came, your body shaking. Hinata held you up and helped you ride through the orgasm. He was good at this.

“Now give her some praise…she likes that” Bokuto said and Hinata nodded.

“You did so good for me” He whispers and pressed kisses to your cheeks and neck from behind you. “Good girl” He added and your cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Is….is that all?” Hinata asked and Bokuto raised a brow.

“Oh, we’re just getting started”

PART 1 of 2

#bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #haikyuu bokuto #hq bokuto #bokuto smut #msby bokuto #bokuto x you #shoyo hinata x reader #hinata shoyo #haikyuu shoyo #hq shoyo #shoyohinata #shoyo x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #haikyu smut

[angelbitezzz]

Recently read Tilikum by Llama_Goddess on Ao3 (check out the link it's so good) and it gave me some interesting brainrot ideas

Fic under the cut

A day dawned like any other for Sans. Get out of bed, work various odd jobs, slack off at said odd jobs, and get home to sleep some more.

Today was a new gig—Janitor work at the local aquarium. It was good, easy work. He'd been all sorts of things in his time both underground and now on the surface, so he was largely left to his own devices practically since the first day.

Some kid spilled one of those themed ice creams on the floor in front of one of the siren tanks. Big attractions, those guys. Not quite human, too physical to be a monster, they sort of floated in this odd in-between state of natural existence. Word was that the song of one would easily lead you to your drowning death. It was a good thing that glass was thick and soundproof, otherwise any of the ones held captive would likely jump at the chance.

Sans mopped away at the spill slowly, dragging out the task. The place was closing for the night soon, he certainly didn't want to be redirected to something else when he had such an easy job right here. A whistle leaked from between his teeth, some song he'd heard on TV earlier in the day.

The room was empty now. With the evening settling in and closing time within the hour, no one had come by to this one since he'd gotten here. Probably since this specific siren didn't seem a fan of performance, or being seen. You were lucky to get a glimpse of it if it was feeling curious on a given day, or so Sans had heard.

He wrung the mop in the bucket and set about just mopping the entire room, still whistling away. But a chill ran up his spine, halting his movements.

The unmistakable, burning feeling of being watched.

He turned his head slow, pupils sliding up along the glass he stood next to until they connected with a bright purple gaze that seemed to peer right through him.

The siren.

It—She? She floated right there, hand pressed against the glass. Her pupils were blown wide open, though they dilated just a little when their eyes met properly. There was something curious about the look on her face, so human if not for the subtle shine of fine scales along her brown skin. Dark hair drifted around her face, some kind of kelp braided into it at certain spots, that same stuff even braided and tied together to make up the cloth she was wearing around her chest. Did sirens care for modesty? He didn't know. Her lower half was that of a fish, something tropical he hadn't bothered to learn the name of. Powerful muscles twitched the end of the tail, keeping her afloat in the same position with ease.

He wasn't sure when he'd stopped breathing. It seemed like time itself had stopped when he realized he was being watched. Was this typical of sirens? Did the gaze of one paralyze as much as the song?

No, that couldn't be the case. Otherwise they wouldn't bother with displaying them at all.

When he didn't react behind meeting her gaze, she seemed to relax just a little. Her eyes slid along his form, taking in the details of his Janitor's uniform and the bones that were visible.

"huh. you're, uh, curious, i guess?"

Sans wasn't sure why he was talking, it wasn't as if she could hear him. But the way his eternal grin moved with the speech seemed to fascinate her. She lowered herself to be more at eye level, both hands against the glass. He slowly put his mop back in the bucket and turned towards her, tugging at his gloves to pull them tighter before stepping closer. The siren didn't move, only followed every movement with that same burning gaze.

"heya." Sans gave a little wave, the way the kid had taught him.

The siren waved back, copying his movement exactly. Then she did something new—she pointed at him. He pointed at himself.

"me?"

She nodded and did something else, crossed her hands over her chest in fists, only the index and middle finger half extended. She bumped them together at the wrist, tapping the fingers to her shoulders and sliding them down to a point at her mid-chest. When he responded with a blank stare, she repeated it. His head tilted.

"now what does that mean...?"

The siren only did it once more before she seemed to give up. She made a recognizable motion this time, both hands in fists together and turning down as if snapping something. He almost frowned.

"that a threat?"

Her face broke out into a wide smile, revealing teeth sharper than he expected before she was laughing on the other side of the glass. There was no other explanation for what she was doing, she was laughing, entirely too amused by his reaction as her shoulders shook. His grin widened a little at that. Well, at least someone here was having fun?

The siren seemed to recover from her fit and gazed at him once more, pupils dilated again. Then they flickered up—an alarmed look flashed over her features before she was suddenly gone. There was a flick of her great tail and then she had twisted away into the kelp and seaweed populating her tank, only the waves of the greenery giving away how fast she'd moved. Sans glanced backwards, feeling oddly like a kid caught doing something he wasn't supposed to when he met the fascinated stare of a fellow janitor.

"hey, paul. uh. somefin the matter?"

"....I didn't see a damn thing."

The older human just turned and walked out, grumbling something about working here for too damn long just for a newbie to get the attention of one of the shyer sirens. Whatever that was about.

When the intercom crackled to life to announce the night's closing, Sans cast one last glance at the tank as he retrieved his bucket and mop.

The siren was nowhere to be seen.

#art #my art #digital art #doodle #undertale #sans #sans undertale #undertale au #siren au #im not tagging this under the fanfic inspiration's name only cuz thats the name of an actual real life orca whale #ANYWAYS HI i got a little inspired #cringe fail janitor catches the attention of unknowable sea beast #whatever will he do #(probably some free willy type shit actually) #fanfic #self insert #selfship #i based her tail off the dorado fish but its not super obvious unless i draw a colored ref lol #this was mostly for shits and giggles

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, seventy-one

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

TW: College admissions. Sorry if you’re going through this now! Also, I went through this a longgggggggg time ago, and I know this isn’t exactly how admissions works, so apologies for creative liberties. I was supposed to post this before Aelin's birthday, but I missed May 3. Just by two days, though, so not too shabby! Okay, lets go. Final stretch, my loves.

“What do you mean you don’t want to celebrate your birthday?” Rowan scoffed. “Ace, you love your birthday.”

Aelin stretched her arms overhead and reached to touch her toes, ignoring the way her boyfriend stared at her with his usual hawklike intensity and instead leaned into her shins, helping relieve the ache from sore and overworked muscles. Dance practices had been relentless on her body, especially with the spring showcase just a few weeks away, she seemed to be in perpetual knots always.

Well, she guessed she couldn’t just blame dance on that. She was having a hard time with everything at the moment. While her friends were smiling and laughing at their last few weeks of high school, Aelin was feeling an acute sense of panic. The weeks following spring break had melted away faster than she could process, gone in the blink of an eye, filled with an onslaught of dance practices and AP exam prep and constantly checking her inbox for that little email notification from Wendlyn. And not nearly enough Rowan, who was spending all his free time with his lacrosse team. Not only that but everyone around her seemed more excited than ever with the prospect of leaving Orynth right around the corner, but with each passing day the knot in her stomach grew tighter. Everything was a ~last~ —and she was having a hard time enjoying that. She didn’t want any of this to be her last. Why was everyone excited that time was moving so fast? Why couldn’t she just freeze right here in this moment. In this limbo things were stressful, but they were still fine. Without knowing what her fate held.

College acceptances had come rolling in, one by one, her friends grinning wildly as they opened their emails. But Aelin’s inbox remained woefully empty. So, she wanted her boyfriend to forgive her for not feeling particularly celebratory, but then again, she hadn’t discussed any of this with him for fear of making him feel guilty about it.

As she breathed into her next stretch, she turned her torso to look back at Rowan, who was still waiting patiently for her response.

“My birthday last year was a disaster,” Aelin finally replied, completely ignoring the real reason she was feeling less-than-enthused. “How quickly they forget.”

But Rowan just rolled his eyes. “That was an exception. I have a feeling that no one is going to get arrested or go to rehab this year. Usually your birthday is all you can talk about for months. Are you really telling me you haven’t planned anything? For your eighteenth birthday?” he asked. “It’s in less than a week.”

Aelin shrugged, leaning to the other side and groaning as she stretched out a particularly tender muscle.

“I just don’t want to do anything this year,” she said. “The spring dance show is in two weeks, and I’ve been practicing every night. So, for my birthday I just want the night off.” She paused. “Is that really so bad?”

“No…” Rowan said quietly, picking up his phone and furrowing his brow. She’d know that face anywhere. He looked concerned.

“What?” she snapped and immediately regretted it when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t deserve to be the receptacle of her stress or ire. All he wanted was to make sure she had the birthday she wanted. Her sweet, sweet Rowan. “Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I’m just…”

“Tired?” Rowan filled in, and she nodded and lifted her arms above her head, extending them out for him. He swooped in quickly and helped her to her feet, enveloping her in a warm and comforting embrace. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered into her hair, and she could feel her tension melting away with each one of his butterfly kisses.

Aelin finally looked up at him, and his worried green eyes were staring back down at her. “I’m so tired, Ro,” she admitted as she squeezed him against her tighter. “The idea of doing something big for my birthday just seems like so much work.”

“It’s just a big one,” he replied softly. “I don’t want you to regret not celebrating.”

“And I appreciate that,” she said, letting herself melt into his chest fully. His heartbeat helped center her, and she rued the day that she wouldn’t have it there for her at a moment’s notice. “But I just want to hang out with you, eat too much chocolate cake and maybe go to sleep early.”

“So I should tell Lorcan to cancel the surprise trip to the strip club?” Rowan asked. Aelin’s head shot up, and her boyfriend’s answering smirk was telling enough.

“You almost had me there,” she said.

“He tried,” Rowan laughed, “But I shut him down pretty quickly.”

“What kind of strip club are we talking about?” she asked, causing Rowan’s worried expression to disappear, as she intended. As Rowan explained how he had to talk Lorcan off the ledge, Aelin took out her phone and needlessly refreshed her phone over and over. But her inbox remained unchanged.

. . .

“Stay calm and vote Manon and Elide as queens for prom!” Dorian shouted while shoving a rainbow flyer into a passerby’s hands. “A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote against The Man!” he continued, causing Aelin to snort into one of the crown-adorned cupcakes Maeve had contributed to the cause. Dorian had taken it upon himself to run point for Manon and Elide’s prom queen campaign and had recruited Aelin to help him during their shared free period. Not that he needed the help. Orynth High had rallied around the pair of women, and there was no doubt as to who would sweep the vote, but it was still something that Aelin could do without that horrible nauseous feeling taking over her entire body – which might have been helped by the fact that Dorian was also still waiting for a college acceptance email, and so the pair of them were happy to use lifting up their friends as a distraction. Or at least use it as a reprieve from constantly refreshing their email. He’d received a few rejections and was pinning all his hopes on one last college.

“A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote for equality!” he shouted, offering up his own plate of cupcakes to a nearby freshman, who accepted it readily.

As if they’d heard their names called, the pair rounded the corner, hand in hand, smiling softly at each other. Manon pulled away for a second as she tied up her newly dyed turquoise hair into a messy bun, causing Elide to sigh dreamily. Aelin watched as they slid their fingers tighter as they came back together and leaned into each other’s shoulders. They’d both received their acceptances to Perranth, a small liberal arts school nearby, earlier this week and the pair hadn’t stopped smiling since. Aelin was happy for her friends; honestly, she was. But that didn’t stop her stomach from churning with jealousy at the fact that they were going off into their post-high school future together.

“Oooh, are those Maeve cupcakes?!” Elide asked, eyeing the funfetti confection in Dorian’s hand. He lifted the plate, offering it up, and Elide wasted no time in grabbing it and shoving half of it into her mouth.

“Sooooo good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. Manon rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm and used one of her long nails to brush away a bit of frosting from above her lip. Unable to control herself, she swooped down and kissed the spot she’d cleaned, as if to make sure it was completely free of sugar.

“And I thought Rowan and I were disgusting,” Aelin laughed.

“You are,” her friends all said in unison, not wasting a single beat.

Aelin flipped them all off, burying her face into her own cupcake instead as Manon asked Dorian for a status update on his polling info. She was taking this extremely seriously, and it kind of warmed Aelin’s heart to see her cold friend use her ruthlessness for good. Well, for Elide’s good.

Though they were deep in conversation about numbers and which cliques were voting for whom, Dorian stopped and gasped loudly.

“What?” Manon asked, and Dorian opened his phone and showed it to them.

In bold at the top of his email inbox was a brand new email, waiting in bold from Anielle University with the subject: Dorian Havillard, Application Status.

“Oh my god, OPEN IT!” Manon shouted as she reached for the phone, but Dorian clutched it to his chest in horror.

“NO!”

“No?” Aelin asked, raising a brow in his direction.

“I can’t open this in the middle of the hallway,” he hissed. “What if it’s a rejection?”

Aelin’s chest panged with sympathy. She knew how hard Dorian had worked this year with volunteering at the hospital and all his APs to get into the college of his dreams. Aka, one far away from his father. Anielle was as far as it got, and it was a great school, too. Not to mention it was the last one he was waiting to hear from.

“Do it when you’re ready,” she said. “Don’t let these college admits pressure you,” she continued.

“Ah, fuck it,” he said. He closed his eyes tightly as he pressed the bolded link. He took a deep breath, and cracked an eye open before shutting it again. “I can’t look. Someone look for me.”

“Give me that,” Manon grumbled, pulling the phone out of Dorian’s white-knuckled grasp. As a wide smile appeared on her face, Aelin’s stomach clenched further. She knew what that look meant. “Look yourself,” Manon said, handing the phone back to Dorian, whose eyes were still clenched tightly closed.

He blindly groped for the phone before Aelin shoved it into his wandering hand. “Congrats,” she whispered, knowing what the email would say without even seeing it herself.

Dorian’s eyes shot open, darting across the screen as that very same smile she’d seen on all her friends one-by-one ripped across his face.

Aelin tried to smile back as Manon and Elide crowded him with high fives and hugs and lifted celebratory cupcakes into the air and cheersed them together. Aelin refreshed her own inbox, but there was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t. At this point she was just assuming that she would have to reapply to colleges next year and maybe do community college locally for the year. That would be fine, though. She’d continue to teach dance and maybe volunteer at the hospital some more. Get some real-life work experience. Plus, she’d have time to drive out to Wendlyn and see Rowan on the weekends, if he still wanted her to do that, of course.

“Still nothing?” Elide asked Aelin, having noticed her quiet smile.

Aelin shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll get the rejection soon,” she laughed. “I just wished they’d do it sometime soon and put me out of my misery.”

Elide reached across the table and squeezed Aelin’s tense shoulder. “I know this is going to sound patronizing, but I mean it. If they reject you, it’ll be their loss.” She paused. “Have you talked to your mom, asked her if there’s anything she can do?”

Aelin physically blanched at the mention. “No. Not since the interview debacle.” She cringed more, realizing that her mom would most-likely be calling her on her birthday in just a few days, and she’d be wondering what Aelin’s status was. And Aelin would have to admit that she as a disappointment, just as she always assumed she’d be.

Yet another reason why she would not be in the mood to celebrate turning the big one eight. She’d need a full day to recover from whatever her mom said to her. She tried to remember if Evalin had ever forgotten her birthday before. She was pretty sure she had. And those years had hurt, had made her want to celebrate her birthday even harder. But she wasn’t sure if talking to her this year would be worse than not hearing from her at all. I guess only time would tell.

Instead of wallowing in her feelings, Aelin joined the celebratory cupcake party, drowning her feelings in Maeve’s delicious buttercream frosting, and hoped yet again for a single email to arrive and put her out of her misery.

. . .

Three days later, Aelin woke up to a small nudge against her nose. Then a soft kiss to one cheek, then to her other.

“Five more minutes,” she groaned, causing the offending kisser to laugh against the soft skin of her neck as his kisses trailed down toward her shoulder. “I’m serious, Buzzard, fuck off,” she said, but it lacked any real vitriol. After all, the man of her dreams was kissing every inch of her skin as thoroughly as he could while still being gentle enough to rouse her from her dreams with ease.

“Happy Birthday, Ace” he whispered as his lips ghosted over hers.

She finally cracked her eye all the way open and couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of Rowan kneeling beside her bed, a sparkling glint in her best friend’s eye as she came to life beneath his gaze.

“Eighteen years old,” she whispered back, her voice still hoarse from hours of sleep.

“I know you said you wanted chocolate cake,” he said, “So I considered making you my poor attempts at breakfast cake again,” he laughed, reminding her of the day she’d woken up on her sixteenth birthday and resolved herself to kiss her best friend within that year. How far away that birthday now seemed, even though it was a mere two years ago. They were different people then. They hadn’t known how much they’d go through, how much life they’d live together to come out of it in this moment on her birthday again. Together. “But I decided to do you a solid and just bring a chocolate fudge cake for breakfast. Because you’re a grownup now. And grownups eat chocolate fudge cake for breakfast.”

She loved that despite their long history that Rowan still rambled when he got nervous with her. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, kissing him thoroughly. Her tongue slid between his lips and he groaned in response, kissing her harder and letting himself fall on top of her, despite still being on his knees.

“Maybe my first act as an official adult should be having morning sex with my boyfriend,” she mumbled against his lips, tugging him closer. He kissed her back, but shook his head and pulled away, causing her to pout sadly.

“As much as I would love that, your dad is downstairs.”

Aelin closed her eyes and stuck out her hand, revealing a thumbs down. Rowan laughed heartily, and she loved the way it made her feel dizzy.

“But we can eat some cake first,” he said, handing her a fork.

“Thanks, Rowan,” she said in a rare moment of sincerity between the two, not joking at all, and she loved the way his cheeks colored with a dark pink as his head ducked.

“I love you,” he simply replied. And though Aelin had dreaded the approach of this day, she relished in the fact that this boy – her best friend – loved her. For right now, that was good enough.

. . .

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rhoe said, enveloping Aelin into a warm hug.

Aelin quirked a brow up at her dad, who was not usually this sentimental, but she accepted the hug regardless.

“Shut up,” he said, chuckling softly as he pulled back. “It’s the last time I’m going to be with you on your birthday morning, and I deserve a hug. As a reward for getting you to eighteen at the very least. I think I did an okay job,” he said, looking her over.

“You did more than okay, Rhoe” Rowan said, pouring a large cup of coffee into Aelin’s favorite mug and then handing it to her. “You did amazing.”

“You’re already forgiven for waking me up too early,” Aelin laughed, but accepted the coffee nonetheless. “Mmmm, hazelnut,” she said, appreciating that her household had made her favorite flavor, despite not loving it themselves.

“DID I MISS IT?!” Lorcan asked, his voice breathless as he burst his way into the kitchen.

“Missed what?” Aelin asked, looking around at the empty kitchen.

“The gifting of porn and cigarettes, obviously,” Lorcan said with a wry smirk. But Aelin just rolled her eyes.

Her dad narrowed his eyes and looked at Lorcan with disdain. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

Lorcan’s grin only widened in response. “Happy eighteenth, slugger,” he laughed, handing Aelin a pile of scratch-off lotto tickets. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Rhoe’s lips curled into an unwitting smile as he wrapped his arm around Aelin’s shoulders, tugging her close once again.

“Dad?”  

“Lorcan is being an absolute idiot, like he always is.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I know you’re still waiting for official replies, but no matter where you end up next year…” Rhoe began. “I’d like you to be able to come and visit as much as you like.”

He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Aelin. “Happy birthday, Aelin.” He looked around the room. “From all three of us.”

Aelin looked at the men in the room, staring back at her, before processing that the thing now resting in Aelin’s hand was a key. Not just a key. But a car key.

“SHUT UP,” she said, her eyes widening. “SHUT UP!”

“I will not,” Rhoe said, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Aelin sprinted for the door before anyone could stop her, and she was practically crying as she reached the driveway where a dark green sedan waited for her.  

“She’s old, but we gave her a pretty good makeover,” Rhoe said, apologetic. But Aelin knew how huge a gift this was.

“You guys did this?” she asked, and Rhoe nodded.

“One of my crew members was ready to retire it for scraps. It’s a got a fair amount of miles on it already, but we replaced all the important parts. New alternator, air filter, battery, breaks, headlights… pretty much anything that wasn’t up to code from 30 years ago.”

“Dad…” she said, running her hand over the shiny fresh coat of paint. “That must have been really expensive…”

But Rhoe simply shook his head. “It was less than I thought it’d be. The whole crew helped out during their down time, and these two bozos put in a fair amount of labor on some overnight shifts.”

Aelin’s gaze shifted to Rowan, who was pushing the toe of his sneaker into the gravel of their driveway.

“I might have lied a few times about being too tired after lacrosse to come over. Sorry,” he said, tucking his chin into his chest, and Aelin was suddenly buzzing with an warm feeling in her chest. The knot that had been there, tightening for weeks, suddenly loosened. Love. That’s what this feeling was. Just the sweetest, most incredible feeling. To be cared for like this by the people around her. So overwhelmed, she couldn’t help herself; she corralled the three most important men in her life together and widened her arms around them into a giant group hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She made sure to say it three times, thanking each one of them.

“Well,” Lorcan said. “Don’t you want to get in?”

Aelin squealed, throwing herself into the driver’s seat and adjusting the chair to her particular height. She breathed in the pine scented air freshener they’d hung on the rearview mirror and smiled. It was perfect.

The car was old, that was not a question. But that only added to its charm. The seats were a comfortable worn-in fabric with a pattern that reminded her of the old Terrasen airport carpet, with its greyscale geometric patterns. The dash was covered in a faux wood pattern that she recognized as being trendy decades ago, but it just made her love it more. This car had history. She’d seen things. She was well-traveled, and Aelin couldn’t wait to give her a brand-new life and explore even more. She knew they’d have many, many adventures in this car. Overhead, there was a sunroof, which she immediately opened to let in the mid-morning light, and she couldn’t help but tilt her chin into the light and let the glow warm her skin.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she finally said, lowering the window to look at her dad, who was more than pleased with his own handiwork.

But Rhoe simply scoffed at that comment. “So, are you driving us all to breakfast or what?”

Aelin grinned as Rowan pulled up a playlist titled, “A-ight-teen” and connected it to the clearly refurbished stereo system.

She laughed as the first song came on loudly – Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman – causing Rowan to grin widely, a grin that he reserved solely for her. Their matching smiles morphed into guffaws as Rhoe and Lorcan folded their hulking, tree-like bodies into the backseat, squeezing into the cramped sedan with no complaints.

“To Maeve’s?” Aelin asked.

“Yes, Jeeves,” Rhoe said in a ridiculous fancy accent, causing them to break into laughter again.

. . .

“SURPRISE!”

Aelin literally jumped as her friends popped up from behind the counter of Maeve’s. She glared at her dad and Rowan, who had clearly planned this, despite her specifically telling them she hadn’t wanted to celebrate her birthday with a party. I mean, had she known she was going to see more than just Maeve she would have at least put some makeup on!

As if reading her mind, Rowan wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered, “You look beautiful.”

She frowned but accepted the compliment and a long kiss. As they parted, Aelin was swept into a number of excited hugs from all her favorite people. Manon, Elide, Dorian, Chaol, Lysandra, and Aedion circled around her, and she gasped as Aedion stepped in, surprising her with a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. They were causing a bit of a ruckus, especially with Lorcan making his own rounds saying hi to everyone he hadn’t seen in a few months, so Maeve quickly ushered them all out to the back patio where she’d set up a special table, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan with pleasure at the plates stacked high with all her favorite breakfast foods.

“…stuffed French toast, maple cured bacon, cinnamon rolls with extra frosting…” Maeve started listing, pointing along the table at the overly filled table.

“Anything for someone who doesn’t want to go into diabetic shock?” Rhoe laughed.

“Cheesy scrambled eggs, potato hash, bagels, and toppings for breakfast tacos,” she said, pointing out all the savory options on the table, too.

“Yummmm,” Aelin groaned, her eyes practically rolling back into her head with pleasure at her first bite of French toast, despite having a chocolate cake appetizer barely an hour earlier.

“I think she’s fine with the surprise,” Rhoe snorted, elbowing Rowan, who practically jumped out of his chair, tearing his eyes away from Aelin’s mouth.

Manon cackled with glee. “As if we would let the birthday queen not celebrate her birthday. It’ll probably be the last time.”

A round of awwwws went around the table, but instead of the tightening Aelin would usually in her stomach, her panic was abated by Rowan’s fingers lacing with hers beneath the table. He squeezed, as if to silently say, I’m here and I know and I love you. And Aelin let the familiar feeling of his callused finger pads calm her quickly. As he drew circles on the back of her palm, she couldn’t help but think at how different this birthday was from the one only two years ago – the one where she’d planned to tell Rowan her feelings and chickened out. She remembered the way he’d simply sat in the corner, watching her socialize, and she wondered what would have happened if she’d told him then – would they still have ended up together? Or did they need to go through… everything in order to get to where they needed to be today.

Looking at the way he made conversation with everyone from Lorcan to Lysandra, something shifted inside her. This man would one thousand percent have rather been alone with her all day, but he also knew that – despite her protests – she did actually want to celebrate with her friends. Because he knew her. Fully. And that’s when she knew without a doubt that regardless of what happened between them two years ago, ten years ago, or ten years from now, Rowan would always be with her, silently loving her and helping her be her best self.

Aelin gulped, that knot that had abated earlier suddenly tightening in her stomach again. She had been so panicked for so many months about every moment being the last, progressively becoming more stressed as each of her friends discovered what their future held, while she still didn’t. But what was shockingly clear all of a sudden is that she did know what her future held. I mean, sure, she didn’t know where she’d end up or what she’d end up studying or exactly what her life would look like, but she knew that Rowan would be there by her side no matter what.

She almost laughed at herself. Wasn’t that what he’d been saying to her over and over and over? Why did it take until this moment to make her believe that?

“Presents?” Maeve suggested, and though Aelin nodded and smiled through each one, her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she needed to talk about with Rowan tonight. Her stomach flipped – although she wasn’t entirely sure that couldn’t be blamed on the copious amounts of sugar she was consuming and her never-emptying mug of coffee.

“You okay, Fireheart?” Rhoe asked, nudging her ankle from across the table.

“Yup,” she answered, forcing a smile back onto her face and actually meaning it for the first time in a while. “Too much frosting,” she laughed, patting at her overly full stomach. Rhoe simply returned her laugh and handed the plate of frosted cinnamon rolls to the other end of the table where Dorian accepted it eagerly. And though she continued to open her presents and bask in the love of her friends and family around her, Aelin couldn’t wait to get Rowan alone.

. . .

“Did you have a good birthday?” Rowan asked, fluffing the pillows on the ground as Aelin gathered a warm quilt and pulled it over their makeshift bed. It’d been months since it was warm enough to go up to Maeve’s rooftop, but it felt like the perfect place to end the day.

“It’s not over yet,” Aelin said, snuggling into his side.

Rowan looked at his phone. “You’re right. You have ninety more minutes to celebrate. How do you want to commemorate your eighteenth year of life?”

Aelin raised her brow. “You think I brought you up here just to talk?”

Rowan snorted and pulled her closer. “You’re a menace. Come on, talk to me. I’ve seen your brain working a million miles an hour all day.”

Aelin looked up. “How do you do that?”

Rowan shrugged. “Do what?”

“Read my mind,” she said. “It’s spooky sometimes. I feel like you know things before I say them out loud allllll the time.”

Rowan chuckled. “I wish I could read your mind,” he said, tapping the side of her temple gently. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d been so distracted all day that for the first time in weeks, Aelin hadn’t spent every minute of every day refreshing her inbox.

She froze, and then her heart took off in a gallop, racing until she felt shaky with adrenaline. Sure enough, as she pulled the phone up, it was lit up with an email alert from Wendlyn University. Re: Aelin Galathynius Admission Status.

“Oh fuck,” Aelin whispered. Rowan’s eyes darted to the screen, and he shot up, sitting up too quickly and knocking Aelin off him.  

“Are you gonna check it?” he asked, but even as Aelin clicked into her inbox, she couldn’t press it. The email that would tell her whether she and Rowan were going to end up at the same school for the next four years. And then, suddenly, she knew what she had to say. And she had to say it before she opened up that email and revealed her fate. Because her fate could only be one thing. One person, really.

She placed her phone down and looked Rowan straight in the eyes and said with as much conviction as she possibly could, “I think we should get married.”

#idwtw au #rowaelin #tog fic #throne of glass fic #tog fanfic #rowaelin fanfic #charincharge writes #rowan x aelin #weeewooooo #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic

[undercoverpena]

12. stormy sky

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter twelve of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.6k chapter warnings: anxious!reader. allusions to bad mental health day/sadness. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is dedicated to all those who sometimes just need a day, a hug and a love. i see you, and i love you (notes at the bottom).

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It wasn’t often you felt the storm coming before it arrived.

At times, it was kind enough to make itself more obviously known than on other occasions. Sometimes, it just happened, almost beyond your control—a feeling that wells up inside, leaving you in a funk for a day or two.

An unexplainable force that commands you to smile outwardly but crumble inwardly.

Then, you rise again the next morning, or in a few, completely anew—like nothing had ever happened.

Occasionally, it rides in on unexplainable sadness that follows you like a rain cloud, spreading out into swelling grief that chokes you from the inside out. Other times, it would be a headache that bloomed behind your eyes into something uncontrollable, unmanageable, that only settled with bedsheets and darkness.

As soon as the email appeared in your inbox, you felt the latter. It throbbing, pulsing—beginning somewhere between your second to final nerve.

Things shifting; a wave forming. One which rose inside of you when you weren’t aligning with the person you were working with. It growing. Swelling. Expanding inside of you to the point you were sure it was going to dislodge bone and deform you forever. The words on the screen slowly blur, barely discernible as sentences and not just another paragraph of failure.

You knew this could happen. From time to time creative visions weren't always going to align. A thing you reminded yourself of regularly, routinely. Telling yourself it in the shower, mirror or as you make your third coffee past midnight.

It never does lessen the sting, though.

Just like now, when your hand can't seem to stop slamming the lid of your laptop shut, or when you find yourself nervously nursing your lower lip between your teeth, a bubbling sensation begins within. Your mind fractures, allowing a flood of negative thoughts to pour forth, corroding, spewing and slathering itself over everything good.

You clutch at your phone, feeling the rubber of your case. Not even thinking; not even checking the time—just calling.

And hoping.

Waiting.

As soon as you hear his sunshine-like voice say your name and 'Are you okay?' (practically spoken as one word), you feel yourself take a breath.

Becoming aware, only then, of how damp your cheeks are, that your hand is shaking as he repeats the question, more gently, less dunked in worry.

Surprisingly, it feels easy to say no. To unravel silently to him as he asks you a question you rarely have been asked: 'Do you want to talk about it or something different?'

It’s small, a simple thing. But your heart swells. Your shoulders unlodge themselves from your ears and your spine softens, making the choice, all with far too much ease. Taking in the sound of his voice as he clears it, you hear him ask lowly and gruffly if you're comfortable before he begins explaining how he has a non-permanent tattoo of a creature on his arm.

Not a dinosaur, Rainy. Not even something born or created from Jurassic Park—and how he was worried that due to its placement, people would think Harold’s had become rougher, more dangerous business.

“Dangerous?”

You swear you hear him shrug. “People might see me, all tattooed up and think the worst of the place.”

Giggling, your fingers massage your head. “Where is it?”

“Guess.”

For a brief moment, like when light shines from behind the clouds, you grin. Guessing, naming body parts you know it couldn’t be, but only to hear his laugh—bathe in the joy that he can only summon, rinse your woes in it in the hope tomorrow you wake lighter.

“Ass.”

“They’d definitely think Harold’s had fucking changed if my ass is out baby.”

Smirking, climbing into bed (his advice, one you happily took). “I think I’d visit more. It’s peachy.”

Peachy he scoffs, but you swear he’s grinning. Adjusting the t-shirt as you lie down—one of his, stolen (with permission) from the drawer you’d made for him, taking in the scent of him, all musk, wood and man as you welded it with the voice as you discover it’s on his cheek.

“How are you going to explain that one?”

His laugh flows down the phone, meeting your ear as you lean against your pillows, trying (with all that you have) to almost convince yourself that he was here—and not streets and streets away.

Morning, guess what doesn’t come off with soap and a scrub? A monster.

Hope you slept okay, baby. Can bring a coffee round on my break. Can even see if I can sweet-talk a larger one for you. Put it in a flask.

Rainy, you awake?

Baby I don’t mean to worry, I bet you’re fine, just busy caught up in doing work, but just let me know you’re okay.

I have the spare key still from that delivery. If you don’t want to see me, tell me.

You’re not sure of the time—drifting on wood out at the sea of your own making. Having done so for a while.

Distantly aware of the passing of time. That it was no longer 3 am, which had been the last time you'd last checked the time. The sun is far too bright through your curtains; desperate to claw its fingers in and yank you from your sheets.

It doesn't, can't.

Instead, you're floating; lost somewhere between awake and asleep—only being disturbed, rocked from it, at the sound of your front door opening. The stiffness of the door, the squeak of a floorboard. All things which should fill you with alarm, but barely make your head move.

Because it's thumping.

Pounding.

Too much stuffed in there to do anything but lie there. Split at the seams, the rest of you shaken like a snow globe.

It crosses your mind—briefly—that if they were here to rob you, they’d find very little to take. If they were here for you, they were most definitely mistaken. Your eyes struggle to stay open, even if your ears are tuning, trying to twist to each noise, only relaxing when you hear the intruder mutter fuck.

Because you know that fuck. Know the exact voice as though it lives in your head with the one that wouldn't quiet at 3 am.

For the most part, you have to admit Frankie is quiet. A skill he likely gained from his former life, the one where it was a necessity. He just didn’t know your home. You only being able to tell he’s here from the little things, like that he’s not completely aware your front door gets a little stuck when it’s really warm and that some floorboards are looser than others.

In the same way, he doesn’t know that if you open your partially shut bedroom door slowly, it groans like it’s being personally offended—

“Mierda.”

You’re sure you croak a Hi Frankie.

You think it anyway; wanting to give an invitation to come closer, to move further in as your eyes try to focus on the money tree named Moana. With each blink, the leaves slowly come into focus as you begin to adapt to the brightness cast in by, what you now assume must be the afternoon. Blinking when you see him crouch down, all soft curls and silky brown eyes.

“You worried me.”

Swallowing, struggling to shove the dryness back, you clear your throat. “Headache.”

He’s gentle, slowly placing his palm on the side of your head, thumb brushing over the skin above your brow as he shifts in his crouched position. “Worse than that time you told me about?”

“About the same.”

It’s quiet, the way he answers with okay. Thumb doing a final swipe before you hear a pop of his knee as he stands, a mumble of Be right back, baby before the floorboards creek and you can hear him opening and closing cupboards in your kitchen. With a sigh, you close your eyes briefly, being roused by a gentle breeze caressing your cheek to find he'd returned, a glass of water in one hand and a crinkling packet in the other.

“Do you want to get in?”

“Sure,” he says, in the familiar deep voice—as you shuffle with ease.

Not daring to lift your head, to move too quickly or violently. The mattress dips as the bed groans when he throws his feet up, sliding into the warmth you’ve been creating for hours, finding his eyes—how that worry is still there. It swirling, likely mixing with the gold flecks and deep browns you admire every chance you can get.

You worry you've spoiled them, tainted them. Made them swirl with sadness caused by worry. And the thought makes your insides hum, as though someone has plucked all your strings. The twang of it trying to mix with the other emotions you don't feel equipped to unpiece.

“I’m s—”

“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, firmly. Not accompanied by any smile.

A thing you know he means when he asks you, voice wrapped in satin, if you can take a sip for him. His arm slides around you, trying to pull you close as you do more than that, but rather consume, drain, and finish the glass.

When you hand it back, you think about the fact that a you with your head not coming apart might have teased him, might even throw your leg over his and asked him if he thinks sex gets rid of migraines like it does headaches. But, the words catch, stick and clag to the roof of your mouth.

Something rising, the emotions you’d shoved down trying to weave up. Climb. Stick their spikes into your oesophagus and crawl out your mouth. That is, until his palm spreads out, the width of his fingers sliding further up and along your spine. The act aiding you, guiding you to take a measured breath. One that stammers, hammers. One that floods inside of your chest, rising and rising like it wishes to crash against a beach and take everything to shore—

But, then it eases, calms.

All being gobbled back up, calmer waves lapping as you shift, seeing him lit by muffled, golden yellow. Listening to his heart, the breaths he takes as you try to follow them—even the scratching of his beard as he tucks himself closer and asks nothing, except silently, to be here.

Eventually, when you stop counting seconds, the quiet is broken—not rudely, or unnecessarily, but just with: “What can I do?”

“You’ve done it.”

Turning to see him—to find the gaze you know will already be on you. To look at the face you think of and have truthfully only wanted to see, there. You begin to explain, letting it all unravel, it unspooling from your tongue. Maybe sharing too much, like that no one you’ve dated has shown up like this before, and that you don’t ever expect him to do it again.

Shifting closer, as you continue talking, eyes closed to not aggravate what is trying to lessen, as you add extra context, sharing what happens, that you’re okay—but that sometimes you’re not. Statements, mainly. Likely broken sentences you somehow mash into paragraphs. Filling in the gaps, from the last weeks to now, to the email and then the call. How it happened—

“Maybe it’s because I’m happy.”

“Hmm?”

Shrugging gently against him, your chest fills with air before you exhale it in one long drag through your nose. “Maybe because I’m happy, my work isn’t that good.”

“Maybe.” His fingers find your chin, turning your eyes to his. “Or maybe he’s got very high expectations and the two of you just aren’t a good fit.”

Chewing your lip, you lower your gaze. “Yeah, maybe.” Unconsciously turning into the palm resting on your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as you dare yourself to find his eyes. “I really hate people sometimes.”

Snorting, you feel his lips press to your forehead. “Let me tell you about this fucking asshole who tried to tell me the white paint he was buying wasn’t white.”

You press yourself closer to him ready to listen, hand sliding across his middle as you grasp more of his shirt, finding the smallest smile trying to crack through.

The next time you wake it’s to the smell of breakfast.

There's humming too, occasional words floating from the kitchen through the open door of your bedroom.

A coy smile already tugging across your cheek, the storm having waned, moved to the distance. But still, you test to see if it's safe as you lift from the pillows—sleep rubbed from your eyes as you spot the crumpled side of the bed. See the empty glass you’d drank before he held you, the jacket he’d been wearing when he’d showed up impromptu folded on the floor near the dresser.

Then, the grossness hits. The awareness that your skin feels claggy and awful, shuffling your feet from the bed, all the way to your bathroom.

His t-shirt peels from you with reluctance. The sadness eventually glides down the drain as the water falls down your skin—stepping out feeling refreshed.

Smiling as you head down the hallway, not forcing a smile as you slide your hands around his waist, fingers moving under the band of his tee, as they stroke over soft, warm skin and the dark hairs that swirl across his middle.

“Thank you,” you say, the words so large you hope they land with the weight you intend them to.

He turns and kisses you, whispering a don't against your minty mouth. Hovering for a moment there, before his mouth finds you again, more hungry, more laced with words as he presses you against the counter. Nowhere to go as he tilts your chin up. “You're worth showing up for, Rainy.”

You swear your heart triples in size as you bury your face in his tee and grin something stupid against him as he continues to sing whatever is playing out loud on his phone.

Do we need to go furniture shopping before or after you put the shelving in?

Probably before in case we need to order things. How’s your mini project coming along?

Well, I followed this tutorial by this very handsome man, and it seems easy to do, but my kitchen shelf isn’t straight.

Did you follow all of the instructions?

Now why would you assume I didn’t?

Because it sounds like you didn’t make sure it was level, baby.

Rude.

But did you?

I may have assumed that my eyesight was good.

How many holes do I need to fill in?

Oh, just the one.

In the wall.

Oh. Eight.

Since the moment he picked you up, you've been buzzing with excitement, just as you have been all week since he told you where he was taking you.

A skip in your step when you locked your door, the sun warming your skin in the short walk to the door he'd opened for you. Remembering how he teased you on the phone last night—you made a Pinterest board of what it could look like?—as you sat cross-legged on the couch, listening to him, shaking your head at the camera.

He handed you the coffee—brewed and made by him—only when you were seated. Another thing you were also sure had added to the swirling excitement in your stomach.

The drive, thankfully, hadn't been long. Undoing your belt when he kills the engine, his palm pressing down on your knee.

“No plants.”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”

Leaning across the centre of his vehicle, he pulls your lips to his. “A very polite ask.”

“You don’t fancy your own Benedict or Henry?”

The tip of his nose touching yours, “I really don’t.”

You suggested other names as the two of you walked to the store's entrance, hand slotting inside his. Only silencing from your torment when your footsteps echoed softly against the glossy tile floors—blending with the rumbles of distant, murmured conversations, phone rings and furniture being rearranged.

Suddenly, the two of you were enveloped in the scents of polished wood and fresh upholstery, a scent you’re sure you used to like, but now really freaking loved.

Because this place is nice. The soft glow of overhead lights bathed the showroom in a warm, inviting ambience—casting a gentle spotlight on each carefully curated display. It was a scene straight out of a home decor magazine—every homeowner's dream.

"C'mon, Rainy," he coos, guiding.

Adding a soft this way from the back of his throat, becoming aware of his fingers brushing over the back of your jeans—along the pockets, along the expanse of your ass as you eye him, finding that same shy smirk that could explode into something more devilishly and ridiculously hard to resist.

A thing he already is without trying.

A thing which worsens when his arm comes around and keeps your side flush to his as the two of you make the way to the rows and rows of desks.

It makes sense to begin here.

To choose the ‘centrepiece’ of the room—as Frankie had explained on the drive—because everything has to fit around it. A thing you’d teased that you thought he was good at making things fit. To which he’d, playfully, replied that he was good, but he wasn’t fit-a-desk-and-a-dresser-an-armchair-and-shelving-good. A thing you'd promptly argued.

Stepping from his side, fingers brushing over the top of one, you glance over at them all. How they’re all vying for your attention, each with a unique allure. From sleek modern to rustic wood.

Catching Frankie's eye and with a mischievous grin, you take a seat behind one of the desks.

“Frank DIY’s office, how I can hammer you a good time today?” you say into the faux telephone, “Oh, I am sure Mr Morales would be able to… bend over and get himself in—I mean, you in.”

Frankie shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you get up and sit behind another, typing on the desk as a keyboard, pretending to stare at the unplugged monitor that had no computer with it. Then moving to another, one with a desk mat and no other items than a plant that looks chewed by tiny teeth, before pulling yourself on the wheels behind one with drawers and a keyboard but nil else.

“Oh, hello sir. Your 2 o’clock is here.”

“Is that right?” he asks, folding his arms. “What am I doing for this appointment?”

Smirking, fingers poised over the keys. “They wish to know how to check if a desk is stable. For two people.”

You hear him take in a breath. Lips threatening to spread into a smirk before he clears his throat. “To work at?”

Shaking your head, you grin.

“I’ll have to call my assistant in. She’s a handful, bad with drilling, but, she can help me.”

Laughing, almost hiccuping from it, he stares down at you—palms still very flat against the desk—as it fades and spreads into a smile that hurts your cheeks. “There it is.”

“There’s what?”

“My smile.”

Eyes widening, you snort. “Your smile?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Mine.”

Rolling your lips, standing from the wheely chair, you raise your brows. Moving around the edge, fingers dancing along the wood until you’re standing perfectly in front of him—eyeing him, as always unable to take your eyes from him.

“I think I like this one,” you add, running the tips of your fingers over the smooth surface of the desk. “There’s no price though—or sizing.”

Frankie glances at it, eyes flicking from each of the sides as he likely does math gymnastics. “You’ll have a lot of space for your dresser—the butterscotch one.”

“You just know that do you?”

“Grab a measuring tape and I’ll confirm it,” he grins.

Hand on hip, you arch a brow as Frankie's laughter fills the air, but you can see it in his eyes, the challenge.

“Get it yourself, Morales.”

Pinching your ass, he walks around it. “I’ll remember that.”

Shaking your head, he snaps a photo of the desk—staring at his screen to check it before locking it. His hand offered to you.

“Chairs?”

Leaning close, voice dropping, you—all velvet-like— whisper, “Your face not on offer when I’m working?”

Pink spreads up his neck, tongue clicking against his teeth, he smiles. Grins. His fingers tighten around yours as you’re sure his eyes actually sparkle. “From the way you weren’t able to form sentences last time, not sure you’d get much work done.”

The chairs, for how colourful and varying they were, felt less fun than desk shopping. Most of them were out of reach, high up on shelves—having to assess whether they were as comfortable as they looked or if it was a lie. A game that got less and less fun the more you trailed.

Frankie, likely guessing your joy was wavering, grabbed a basket at some point—allowing you to peruse the mini plant aisles and other decorative things. For your shelves, he said, for the shelves, you replied, grinning, even as you grabbed a particularly wiry cactus you named Cisco.

“You think you’ve got at least one of everything in here?”

Fake laughing, your elbow confidently finds his side—hearing a gruff huff from him. “Almost. I just need—”

Eyes spotting it, body moving all of its own accord as though the required item had been lit under a spotlight and heaven-like noises had begun playing. Fingers gliding over each, brushing over fleece fluff that left marks of your touch, to more knitted, firmer types, too many choices all to be shared at, contemplated.

You feel it before you see it. Pain flaring from your side as your head whips—meeting the disgruntled face of another shopper, the end of their cart still firmly against your side as though somehow, you were the one who was required to move. Even after he’d practically rammed the cart into you.

“Hey man, watch it,” Frankie says, arm sliding around you, pulling you close.

The smallest of gaps made, created, between yourself and the offending cart. The pain throbbing, the embarrassment simmering, as you fight rubbing the impacted sight as it continued to pound, hearing:

And maybe, if you had looked across, you would have seen the man scoff—observed the expression that made Frankie tense even more protectively next to you You would have noticed why his usually soft smile shifted into a thin line as a storm brewed inside of him before you heard:

“She's the one in the way.”

An adult-like response if you've ever heard one. A thing you shake your head at, but reach your hand up to touch Frankie's chest, tapping lightly as you watch him visibly swallow whatever had been about to come out of his mouth. Instead, he mutters a few choice curses under his breath, shooting a silent but determined look to the person as they mumbled the most pathetic apology known.

But, you didn’t, don’t.

Because, if you had, you'd have missed the way it all vanished when his eyes met yours. How it was erased, wiped all clean. Every affliction on his face, from the hardened eyes to the twitch of his nose, slipped away back to its recess.

“You alright, baby?”

Not one blame placed on you; not even a thought to do so, as his knuckles brush your cheek.

“I’m fine, Butterscotch. It's nice to meet protective you, though.” His eyes shifting from you quickly, the deepest of reds flooding his ears, you flatten your hand to his chest. “I appreciate it.”

Meeting your stare, he swallows. “You sure you're okay?”

Biting the inside of your cheek when his palm, warm and spreading heat, begins stroking over the offended area, you nod. Grinning.

Because if anything, you're pretty sure you might be in love with him.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

notes: i've drip fed rainy's difficult client for a few chapters now, as well as her little wobbles with anxiety. i know this isn't everyone's experience, but i think we can all relate to those days when getting out of bed just feels hard. i hope you're all okay, and just know i'm always here. no one is ever alone when the grey clouds are overhead, even if they clouds hope to make us feel that way. ily all, jo.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[megamett44-lover]

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: In which Y/N is tired of being the only one fighting for their relationship

Warnings/Notes: Use of Y/N, mention of sex, toxic relationship

Requested? No!

Know It’s For The Better

“I can’t keep doing this.” I mutter, throwing my hands up in defeat.

“Doing what, Y/N?” Matt harshly questions, following closely behind me.

“Don’t play stupid.” I say. Turning to look at the man I’ve loved for the past three years. “Matt, seriously, just stop.”

“Stop what?” Matt practically screams. “I don’t know what you want from me!”

“You never have.” I scoff, slapping my arms down at my sides. “Three years, Matt! Three fucking years, I have stood by you. I have forgiven you. I have loved you. I can’t keep doing this!”

This was a long time coming. Matt and I had been high school sweethearts and I genuinely thought I was going to marry him. I guess I had always been too lovesick, or maybe naive, to realize our futures were never made to be intertwined.

“I don’t understand!” Matt says. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

I laugh. “Talk to you? TALK TO YOU?!” I roll my eyes. “That’s all I ever do, I am constantly explaining things to you. Sure, you hear what I’m saying, but it goes in one ear and out the other. I agreed to be your girlfriend, not your mother.”

I had been so proud of Matt and his brothers when their YouTube channel took off. I was their number one supporter; flying to L.A. with them, helping them move, helping them with video ideas, I was there for all of it. But it seemed like Matt was the one who couldn’t be there for me. Our relationship had taken a backseat while he focused on his career.

“Please, help me fix this.” Matt mutters. “I can’t do this without you. I need you.”

“You haven’t needed me for a long time, Matthew.” I whisper. In fact, he’d been so absorbed in his career that he hadn’t noticed me slowly pulling away, untangling the roots I had laid within his life.

“All we ever do is fight.” I say. “We fight, we fuck, you promise you’ll be better and I stay, only to repeat this vicious cycle the next week. I will not cling to a false God anymore, Matt. I can’t do it. I don’t deserve this, and neither do you.”

“Don’t do this, Y/N.” Matt pleads, taking my hand. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” I admit truthfully. “That’s why I need to let you go. You deserve the world, Matt Sturniolo. And I hope one day, while you’re trying to get it, you realize you had someone who was ready to hand it to you on a silver platter.”

I pull my hand away from his as I turn around to leave, fighting the sting of the tears welling in my eyes.

“I will always love you, Y/N.” I hear Matt say behind me. “And I will wait forever for you if I have to. I will always be yours.”

Drawing a deep breath, I manage to move my feet down the stairs to the front door. Grabbing the handle, I feel the weight of my actions bear down upon my soul as I leave the only life I have known for three years. The weight on my chest crushes me as I walk out of the door, knowing what I did was for the better.

Part 2…?

Loosely inspired by my toxic relationship lolololol but…ANYWAYS! I am SO back! Send me requests pookies:)

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine

[infinite-criseas]

Remus was impatient. Sirius had been taunting him all week and it was payback time.

…

Last week, Remus decided he needed to focus on exams and told Sirius no fooling around until after the exams. Rather than backing off, Sirius took this as a challenge.

On Monday, Sirius wore his hair up. He rarely does this, says it messes with his “effortless beauty” look. He knew it always turned Remus on and today was no exception. Remus looked up from his books to see Sirius lock eyes with him and tuck a strand of hair behind his ears, smiling seductively before returning to his conversation with James.

On Tuesday, Sirius smelled strongly of coffee and chocolate. Two of Remus’ favorite scents. He walked past Remus multiple times, once bending over right in front of him to pick up his wand.

On Wednesday, Sirius brought Regulus over and started speaking in French. Luckily, James came to the rescue and whisked Reggie away almost immediately. Remus was fighting for his life to not do the same to Sirius when Sirius came over and whispered “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

On Thursday, Sirius wore a crop top. His light arm muscles and lower torso exposed. The sword tattoo on his back, peaking out from under the shirt. Remus wanted him so badly.

Friday was the worst. The morning before the last exam, Sirius strutted into the common rooms wearing a beautiful loose fitting, A-line black mini dress. He had silver star clips in his hair which framed his gorgeous face, and a pink heart lollipop in his hand. And his eyes, his lovely gray eyes were framed by thin black eyeliner. “Wow you look incredible in that dress” James gasped.

“I’d look better out of it” Sirius smirked and winked at Remus, proceeding to lick the lollipop in a way no human who wasn’t making a sexual euphemism would ever do. Remus had to leave the room, he couldn’t take it.

…

Now his exams were over, and Sirius and the boys would be done in a couple minutes. He was ready to give Sirius a taste of his own medicine. Remus had on grey sweatpants and took off his shirt. He’s not typically comfortable with being shirtless around people because of his scars - but he was pulling out all the stops to tease his boyfriend tonight. He lay on Sirius’ bed, pretending to read a book, when in reality he’d been checking the map to be ready just before the Peter, James, and Sirius entered.

Sirius’ eyes widened in excitement seeing his shirtless boyfriend on his bed. “oh MOONY! Take me now” Sirius blurted out, flustered and practically leaped onto the bed. James and Peter ogled for a second. Remus was in really good shape, which was easy to miss given he only wore geezerly sweaters.

“I miss when you two were a secret” Peter sighed, leaving.

“Guess we’ll leave you two be” James smiled and winked.

“Oh no, you guys can stay. I was just about to go for a run anyway.” Remus stated mater of factly, giving Sirius a quick peck on the lips. Sirius leaned in for more, but Remus pulled away and grabbed his boyfriend’s quidditch jersey off the floor. Sirius went absolutely feral seeing Remus leave the room, wearing his Gryffindor jersey with “Black” in bold gold letters on the back. Sirius, completely dumbfounded, froze in place for a minute, realizing Remus was actually not coming back. James was on the floor laughing.

“Payback for the dress this morning, I’m guessing” James cried out through fits of laughter.

Sirius ran after his boyfriend. Remus was a much faster runner than he was so it took him some time before he found Remus. “Mooooony waittt” Sirius whined through labored breathing. “Mooooonyyy” Remus slowed down. “I’m sorry” Sirius breathed heavily “I’m sorry I distracted you… all week… don’t make me wait any longer” He breathed again, “please” he whimpered out.

Remus was about to give in, especially after hearing that whimper. He placed his left palm on Sirius’ jawline and tilted his head up to look him in the eyes. “Suffer” he growled, practicing the last bit of restraint he had left in him.

“Moooony! You can’t be serious”

“I’m fucking serious”

“No cause if you were we wouldn’t be out here” Sirius retorted. In the middle of all this pent up passive aggression, of course Sirius “can’t miss the opportunity for a joke on his name” Black would say that. Instantly, Remus’ stubborn resolve was gone. He grabbed Sirius by the waist and their lips came crashing, they started making out with an intense passion that had been bubbling for a week now. They crumpled onto the ground, Remus’ hands locked in Sirius’ hair. Sirius was caressing Remus’s face moving his hands down his chest. They broke for air briefly, Remus started trailing kisses down Sirius’ neck and fumbled to unbutton Sirius’ shirt. Sirius moaned softly, eyes rolling back - only to come to the realization that they were on an open field. A group of upside down first years in the distance appeared in his line of vision. He quickly cleared his throat and stopped Remus right as his kisses reached Sirius’ waist line. “Moony we’re in public” Sirius croaked out.

Remus almost didn’t care, but he quickly tried to compose himself. After all, a prefect dicking down his boyfriend on open school grounds would probably have consequences. “ermm, right” he got up, picking up a shirtless Sirius with him. Sirius tossed his shirt over his left shoulder, and leaned into Remus’ chest laughing. Remus all hot and bothered, was a little confused by the sudden fit of giggles but welcomed the embrace.

“All week of me trying to break you and all it took was a bad pun on my name” Sirius giggled. Remus started laughing too, as ridiculous as it was, that was in fact what got him to cave.

“What can I say, I fell in love with an absolute idiot” Remus joked leaning into a quick kiss. “Now I would like to be actually fucking Sirius”

“The shrieking shacks not far from here” Sirius said quickly, with a dirty twinkle in his eyes.

“Race you there” Remus took off.

“Oh Merlin, more running… Mooonyyyyyyy”

#wolfstar #remus lupin #marauders #sirius black #the marauders #james potter #peter pettigrew #remus x sirius #james x regulus #jegulus #regulus black

[buildarocketboys]

53 + peterick lmao

Haha this one was so perfect for them! Fluffy early band ficlet, Pete takes Patrick out on a 4am ice cream date!

53. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”

It's 4am, and Patrick is wide awake.

Not that this is such an unusual occurrence for Patrick. His preferred sleeping schedule lingers somewhere between 3 or 4am and 12 or 1pm. But as a high school student, that's not really sustainable so he's usually at least trying to sleep by this time.

Right now he can't, though. He's thinking about the conversation (argument) he and Pete had earlier. Replaying it over and over in his mind.

Ugh, but Pete just makes him so angry sometimes. They were rehearsing a few of their songs in preparation to record them at Joe's next week. 

And then Pete had wanted to change a lyric.

And another.

And another.

They weren't sensible changes, either. Half the time, Pete seems to want to replace one word with forty. It's ridiculous.

And he's so smug about it too! As if he thinks-knows-that his lyrics are so much better than Patrick's.

The worst part is, Patrick can't help thinking he's right. Patrick knows he's no poet, or wordsmith. His lyrics are juvenile at best. He's all too aware of this, as Pete well knows.

Pete's words are beautiful, poetic, the metaphors winding and flowing through his writing like a river to the sea.

But at least Patrick's lyrics fit the rhythm of the damn song!

After one too many of these changes, Patrick had lost his temper.

He'd yelled, "If you know so much better than me, maybe you should write the fucking lyrics!"

Pete had gone quiet at that. He hadn't talked for the rest of the rehearsal, which they all mutually decided to cut short. Which doesn't bode well for the recording. They all need the practice.

Patrick knows he went too far, but also - he can't see how he's wrong. Pete needs to put up or shut up when it comes to the lyrics - he could at least work with Patrick when it comes to making the lyrics fit. But the man has no sense of rhythm, at least not on purpose. He doesn't seem to see an issue with adding another twenty words to a verse.

He just gives Patrick an infuriating little smile and tells Patrick that he knows Patrick will make it work.

Pete seems to think Patrick is some kind of musical genius. Which is flattering, he guesses. Except he's really not.

Patrick's perseveration is interrupted by a tapping at the window. He jumps, then twists around, pulling the curtain back to reveal Pete's face at the window.

He groans.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hisses once he's opened the window.

Pete pouts at him. "Now that's not a very nice way to greet your best friend, is it?"

Patrick grits his teeth. "It's four in the morning!"

Pete shrugs. "So? You're awake, aren't you?" When Patrick continues to glare at him he says, "Also, be quiet - don't wanna wake your mom up."

Patrick rolls his eyes, arms crossed tightly over his chest (only partly to hide his Batman pajamas), then sighs. Relenting, he scrambles back so Pete can climb into his room proper.

"Shut the window," he says, "It's freezing." January in Chicago is no joke.

Pete does so, a grin playing round his lips. It fades when Patrick says, "What are you doing awake at 4am anyway?"

Pete presses his lips together. Instead of answering, he says, "I could ask the same of you."

Patrick stares back at him, stony-faced. He asked first.

Pete sighs, pushing his hair back. "Couldn't stop thinking about earlier," he admits.

Patrick lets out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, me too."

Pete looks up at him, eyes sparkling hopefully. "Thought I could make it up to you."

"Make it up...to me?" Patrick asks. He'd figured Pete was mad at him. Too late he registers Pete's raised eyebrows, and scrambles to correct himself. "How?" he asks, crossing his arms again.

Pete grins, so effortlessly charming that Patrick kind of hates him for it. Patrick could never be so laid back in a million years.

For some reason, Pete likes him anyway. God knows why.

Sometime after they became best friends, Patrick resolved to stop questioning it. Sometimes it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm taking you out for ice cream," Pete announces.

For a moment, Patrick's not sure he's heard correctly. "Ice cream?" he splutters. "Pete. It's 4am in midwinter in Chicago. We are not going out for ice cream."

"Why not?" says Pete. "You once said that if you could choose one food to eat for the rest of your life, it'd be ice cream."

"Well, yeah, but..." Pete remembers that? How many of the stupid things Patrick says on a daily basis has Pete retained? It doesn't bear thinking about. "Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!"

Pete waggles his eyebrows. "C'mon, Patrick. You know you want to."

Patrick's stomach flip flops in excitement. Pete is always doing shit like this, getting Patrick to step out of his comfort zone, while always, always being there to hold his hand. He pretends to be annoyed, but really he loves it.

"What if my mom finds out?"

Pete shakes his head. "She won't. Just sneak out the window with me. We'll be back before she wakes up."

Patrick moves to the window and looks out dubiously. He's seen Pete do it before - shimmy down the drainpipe and onto the garage roof, before jumping down.

But Pete's athletic. If Patrick tried that, he'd probably break an ankle. Or worse. 

"I think I'll go out the front door," Patrick says. He's pretty sure he can make it without his mom waking up. He's an expert at ninja-ing down the stairs in the middle of the night.

Pete shrugs. "It's your funeral." He heads for the window, obviously planning to return the way he came. "Wait, you do want to come, right?"

"Yeah!" Patrick exclaims - a little too loud and enthusiastic. He cringes, and they both listen for any sound of his mom stirring in the next room. "Yeah," he says. "I just need to put, like, ten layers on."

Pete's got a shit-eating grin on his face now. "Alright. See you on the other side, sport." He punches Patrick's shoulder and has disappeared out the window before Patrick can object to the childish nickname.

Patrick sighs and then starts pulling on clothes at random, grateful for his floordrobe for once, as it means he doesn't have to open his squeaky closet door. He darts down the stairs, ninja-style, and stands at the front door for a full minute, pricking his ears for any sounds from his mom's room. When none come, he slips on his shoes and unlocks the door, closing it softly behind him before half-jogging to Pete's car.

Pete smirks as he slips in. "Impressive," he says.

"Oh shut up." He rubs his hands together as Pete starts the car, waiting for the heaters to warm up. "Where do they serve ice cream at 4am in Chicago in January anyway?" he asks. "It's, like, 20 degrees."

Pete grins as he pulls out of Patrick's driveway and guns the engine. "I know a place."

The place turns out to be a diner on the edge of the city.

When they enter, there's nobody else in the place. No customers, no waitresses, not even anyone behind the counter.

The lights are on but nobody's home, thinks Patrick, then giggles.

Pete glances at him. "What's so funny?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Is this place actually open?" he asks.

Pete nods. "Sure it is. The lights were on, the door was open, right? They're probably just out back, having a smoke. Hey!" Pete calls loudly. No answer. He sighs in frustration. "Just wanted to get my boy some ice cream," he mutters under his breath.

Patrick feels his stomach lurch. Something about Pete calling him his boy does things to him. It's kinda like Pete calling him his boyfriend.

Kinda, but not really, he tells himself firmly, as Pete dings the little old-fashioned bell next to the register.

They hear footsteps coming their way. "Finally!" Pete says, as if they've been there for hours. Patrick rolls his eyes fondly. "Why don't you go pick out which flavors you want?" He nods toward the glass box under which a smorgasbord of ice creams are displayed.

"Woah," Patrick says. He scans the flavors, trying to pick his favorite, wishing he hadn't forgotten his glasses. A waitress arrives behind the counter to serve Pete.

"Hey there, darling, sorry about that. You been waitin' long?" she says to Pete, batting her eyelashes, and suddenly the ice cream is the last thing on Patrick's mind. He watches her flirt with Pete, nails digging into his palms, thinking that is the fakest accent he's ever heard in his life.

Pete seems to fall for it though, much to Patrick's disgust. He grins up at her and says, "Not long, no," in this breathy little voice he uses whenever he flirts with girls. Patrick feels sick, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

"What can I get ya?" she asks.

"I'll have a coffee," Pete says. "And for my friend here..." he trails off, obviously waiting for Patrick to give his order.

Patrick realizes he's been staring at them, open-mouthed.

He slams his mouth shut as the waitress says, flatly, "Oh. Hey there."

"Pete, I...I don't have any money," he admits. He'd been so focused on getting out of the house undetected, and so excited about sneaking around with Pete in the middle of the night, that it hadn't even occurred to him to bring his wallet.

Pete reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him close so he can wrap his arm round Patrick's waist. "That's OK, honey. My treat."

The waitress purses her lips. Patrick feels a zing of delight in the vicinity of his stomach, even as he can feel his cheeks burning.

"Uh, are you not having anything?" he asks Pete.

Pete shakes his head. "Just coffee. I'm not hungry."

"I'll just have some vanilla then," says Patrick.

"Aw, no, c'mon Patrick," Pete says, eyes crinkling in disappointment. "I'm taking you out on an ice cream date, you've gotta have at least two flavors."

The waitress looks at him dubiously - 17, chubby, wearing about 15 layers of clothes. Privately, Patrick agrees with her - why would Pete want to take him on a date, of all people? Even a friend date, which he's sure is what Pete means. But he raises his chin and looks her in the eye.

"Um, OK," he says after a moment, when the waitress has looked away. "I'll have, uh..." he glances at the flavors again, and chooses pretty much at random, "Bubblegum and rocky road."

"Good choice,' says the waitress, smiling a little.

"And put those in a cone!" Pete says as she goes to scoop the ice cream. He nudges Patrick. "It's not ice cream if it's not in a cone, right?"

"Do you remember everything I've ever said to you, or just the ice cream-related things?" Patrick teases.

Pete looks at him, deadly serious. "Patrick Stump, I remember every word you've ever said to me."

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he can't help but smile. He takes the ice cream cone the waitress offers him and they go sit in a booth in the corner.

Then he remembers their argument this afternoon. "Even the bad stuff?" he asks, swallowing nervously.

Pete's eyes soften. "Yeah, not that there's much. But I don't hold it against you." He sips his coffee. Patrick's pretty sure he's just being kind - they argue a lot, and Patrick's not always the most objective or logical when his temper gets the better of him. "Besides, you're usually right, anyway."

Patrick snorts. "Am not," he says, because that's definitely not true, and he doesn't need Pete to mollycoddle him.

Pete flashes him a grin. "Yeah y'are. Like this afternoon-"

Patrick sighs. "Can we not talk about that?" He realizes his ice cream has started to drip down the cone and onto his hand, and launches a rescue mission with his tongue. Pete is silent for long moments and Patrick thinks he's dropped it, but when he looks up again he catches Pete watching him.

Pete clears his throat. "You were right," he says. He sounds kinda weird. "I was being annoying, making all those lyric changes."

Patrick sits back in his seat, satisfied that they're finally in agreement. "Yeah, you were."

"But was I wrong? I mean, didn't my changes make the songs better?"

Patrick snorts. "If changing one word to forty makes a song better, sure." Now that he's cooled down, though, he actually thinks about it. "Your words are better than mine," he admits quietly. "They're more poetic, or whatever."

Actually, Pete's words are kind of really fucking beautiful, but he'd never tell Pete that. It's one of the things that annoys him the most when Pete asks to change the lyrics. Not only are they almost always better than Patrick's lyrics, they also make Patrick feel things. Things he's not sure he wants to feel.

"Exactly!" says Pete, then cringes when Patrick scowls at him. "That's not...that's not what I meant," he says quickly. "I love your songs, Patrick. You know that."

Patrick does. Sometimes he thinks Pete's the only one who likes them.

"But you're a musician. I...I get the feeling you don't really care about the words."

Pete picks his words carefully, but Patrick can't help feeling a little offended. Patrick does care. Sure, he cares about all the other stuff - the melody and the rhythm and the harmonies - way more, but it's not like he's not trying! He tries really hard with the lyrics, they just never come out any good!

"It's not that I don't care-" he starts, then sighs.

"But you see what I'm saying?" Pete asks, pressing his advantage.

"Yeah. I guess." Patrick pays attention to his ice cream for a while before he speaks again. "What's the point of this, Pete? I mean, what can we do different?"

Pete's face lights up with a grin. This is clearly the point he's been wanting to get to the whole time. "I write the lyrics. You write the music."

Patrick considers this for a while, his tongue worming its way into the bright blue ice cream. He doesn't miss the way Pete is staring at him, but for now he just lets it happen. Pete isn't like other people - he likes being under his gaze.

"How would that work through?" he says. "If I write the music, we'll still run into the same problem, trying to fit your lyrics to it." In fact, it'll probably be worse, Patrick thinks.

Pete shrugs. "It's just an idea," he says. "I don't know, maybe I could write the words and you could fit the music around them?"

Patrick screws his face up. Nobody does it like that. That's just not how songwriting works.

But.

Sometimes when he looks at Pete's lyrics, he hears the beginning of a melody. Usually he pushes it back, annoyed at the distraction when he's trying to fit them to the tune he's already got.

But what if he let that impulse run free? What would happen then?

"We could try it," Patrick says tentatively.

Pete's face is split with a grin. "Yeah?"

Patrick shrugs. "Yeah. I'm not saying it'll work, mind you. Nobody writes songs like that for a reason."

Pete lets out a breath. "I know. But we're not like everybody else." He claps his hands together, satisfied, breaking the tension between him and Patrick. "We'll do the recording like we were always gonna, with your lyrics. I'll try not to mess with them too much."

Patrick raises an eyebrow.

"But after that, we try this, yeah? It's an experiment. And if it doesn't work, we can go back to you writing the songs."

Patrick nods. "OK," he says, and attacks the rest of his ice cream with gusto, while Pete sips his coffee and watches him openly.

Pete drives him back at 5:30am. His mom gets up at 6. He should be fine.

Patrick's quiet on the drive back. Just thinking.

"You OK?" Pete asks as he pulls up on Patrick's driveway.

Patrick nods, offering him a small smile. "Just thinking," he tells Pete.

Pete nods encouragingly, and Patrick adds, "Do you actually have words to give me? You know, if that's what we're gonna do?"

Pete nods. "Oh yeah." He leans over Patrick and opens the glovebox, pulling out a hardcover notebook. Patrick's seen him writing in it before. "Here you go." He hands it to Patrick.

Patrick takes it reverently in his hands. "Pete... isn't this basically your diary?"

Pete nods, not looking at him. "Technically it's a journal. But yeah." He breathes shallowly. "But I trust you."

The gravity of that trust is not lost on Patrick.

Pete turns around finally to find Patrick staring at him.

"What?" he says, but his cheeks are ruddy. "You're my best friend."

Patrick blinks, his eyelashes fluttering. "Yeah..." he breathes.

Pete leans forward and brushes his thumb over the corner of Patrick's mouth. Patrick's heart stutters in his chest.

Pete's eyes flicker to Patrick's lips, and for a moment, Pete thinks he's going to close the distance between them.

Then he leans back, breathing hard. 

"Might want to wash your face when you get in. Your mouth is blue."

Patrick chokes out a laugh. "Yeah. Will do." He opens the passenger door.

"See you tomorrow?" says Pete hopefully, and Patrick smiles.

"Yeah," he says, squeezing Pete's hand. "Tomorrow."

#qorktrees #asks #ask meme #peterick #patrick stump #pete wentz #fob #my writing

[kasaraku]

I've been thinking about something.

I saw a video in TT (not again-) and it was about how Tsukasa is frustrated by how the others are joking around, jokingly make fun of Tsukasa and it triggers him. (Check out Blu!)

And then I remembered someone pointed out that EmuRuiNene's jokes are a lot softer now than before, that even Nene's sharp tongue wasn't even used all that much to him too. I think it's because they realized how Tsukasa would open up more if they're softer around him.

I mean, other people also pointed out that, seeing how Tsukasa's event focuses are, he never really relied on others until 3rd focus. He realized just how much others are willing to help him out and also supports him. <- that makes me cry a whole hour.

In order for Tsukasa to let himself lean on others and let himself be more open to them, they (EmuRuiNene) have to soften up and let Tsukasa take the hints and be more reliant to them, making him realized that he can always trust them and comes to them for help. He has done more than enough, it's their turn now.

Suddenly it inspired me to make a short story. Just keep reading.

I'm sure you'll like a little fluff :D

Rehearsal has been going on smoothly. Emu takes up the main character, with Rui as her companion to defeat an evil god, a character Tsukasa plays, but also with the help and persuasion of semi - god, that's when Nene comes in.

The god is good, but humanity destroys him, and he was made into an evil being after being revived. The semi - god tells them that the god needs his heart back to revive the god she has befriended a long time ago. She begs them not to kill him as he's the only one who can keep the humans alive for so long. They eventually agree, and after finding the heart and presents it to the god, it shines as the evil god unconsciously reached for it and puts it in his chest as it shines and he comes back. Happily ever after.

Well, maybe not if the one who plays it don't know how to act as the evil god.

"Uhh... Nene? Can you help me with this? I'm a little stuck. " the singer looks at the one who called her. The blond who constantly yells 'World's Future Star' looks at her in embarrassment. He holds a script that opens a page she oh so familiar with. The part where the evil god and the semi - god shown to be friends in the past.

Emu and Rui are bussying themselves with the script as they excitedly talk about the ideas on putting sparkly things for the show, and Nene can hear how loud they are. Even if they're a few feet away from her, she feels a little irritated about it. They talk a little too loud from usual, which pretty much annoys her.

Tsukasa is still waiting for Nene's answer, as he fidgets with the script and debates on whether he should really ask her or forget about it. Suddenly Nene grabs his wrist and drags him away from the other two as they goes in the backstage, a quitter place for them to practice.

"I can help, don't worry about it. Well, tell me which part you're struggling with. " somehow, Nene looks at him with a soft smile that makes him want to melt away. Has she always smiles that softly to him? Maybe, but he might never realize it.

With a nod, he explains which part and his struggles of it, as Nene hums and helps him get the hang of it. In return, she asked him for the same thing as he smiled and pointed out which part she lacked in and gave her some insight and clues for it.

Little did they know, the other two were watching them the whole time with those big hearts in their eyes, and they affectionately looked at them, while also noting that Tsukasa gradually letting himself be dependent to others.

That day, everyone ends the rehearsal with a smile of affection painted on their face as they go home, replaying the memories they all had together today.

Yeah uhh... got a little too excited for the info I guess-

#tsukasa tenma #tenma tsukasa #emu otori #otori emu #nene kusanagi #kusanagi nene #rui kamishiro #kamishiro rui #polyshow #hinted polyshow???? #nenekasa #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #It's a Nenekasa centric (platonic and romantic) #but I love polyshow a little too much and can't allow myself to forget them #<- lie. I forget them for Mafukasa

[fauxbia]

Your art is so beautiful and otherworldly. I love the way you shade and all the minuscule details you add to every work you create. The eye shines on the characters you draw are always so warm, and there’s something so incredibly soft and distinct about the lines you draw. I love seeing your name come across my dash because I know it’s either going to be a really funny reblog or something utterly heartbreakingly beautiful that you’ve created. Your art style fits so well with Rain World and Sky that I genuinely thought you were an official artist for both games. I love and appreciate your dedication to Outer Wilds. I have your drawings and the dialogue list saved in my bookmarks whenever I need to enjoy it again. Your original art and OCs are also just so incredible. You make me want to improve my own art because the things you create inspire me to try harder and do more. You’re so cool and special and amazing and I’m so happy I started following you all those months ago. Thank you. I hope you receive good soup and tasty drinks for the rest of time.

W WA???????????? WAUGHHH?????

I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT I

THANK YOU??? SO MUCH???? WAUGHH??????

It’s 2 am anon you can’t DO THIS TO ME— /lh

thank you so much it really means a lot, especially since Ive been having a really hard time with self esteem lately… so… thank you so much for taking the time to say something so kind and thoughtful

I hope you, too, receive All The Good Soup <3 and goodnight I am going the hell to sleep

#awaugh…. Awauhhh…….. crying #I mean I know my art can be *good* sometimes I’m even really proud of how it looks #but *that good?* it isn’t really right? I know I have so many areas I could and should improve in.. #but that only comes with time and practice I guess. #I’m a lot better now than I was a few months ago so… just keep moving forward and maybe i *can* pass for an official artist someday #who knows #thank you so much anon I needed that

[limielle]

something wicked this way comes (they want your mora)

#late halloween fanart for u #paimon #aether #genshin impact #genshin impact paimon #genshin impact aether #this was a study in 'how many times can i fuck up in one painting' and let me tell u the numbers are #in the thousands #i did learn other things though which is why i included a zoom because #i am happy with the way i coloured the faces and hair #im a bit upset that i didnt manage to do this on time OR achieve what i envisioned #but it will come with time and practice i guess #this is only my 2nd painting since switching up my whole process so #slowly....... #myart