#though i will draw her another night bc sleepy time

[tippenfunkaport]

Goth Bow for @certifiedbowsbian , my beloved

#bow #spop #she ra #shera #imagine he has a tongue piercing #not pictured bc i couldn't draw it #but you know why ;-) #Goth glimmer is well taken care of #though i will draw her another night bc sleepy time #goth #goth aesthetic #tippen attempts art #fanart

[miyacreampie]

Lenny sensei's night class has begun!~♡

“Senpai~♡”

synopsis 💭;; Tanaka gets jealous bc some bitch talking to his man.

note 🖋️;; IT TOOK A WHOLE FUCKIN WEEK TO WRITE THIS. WHY DOES WORK ALWAYS PREVENT ME FROM DOING THE THINGS I LIKE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FU- by the way, ‘Isayama Misaki’ is based off of some asswipe I used to know- also, I ran out of ideas at the end, so it kinda cuts of lf at the good part. I apologize to the anon that requested this.

Requested by anon ♡

Male pronouns used

Tanaka wasn't a jealous man. Or at least he'd like to think so.

(Y/n) was pretty popular around campus, so it wasn't a surprise to see a few fangirls here or there. It kinda reminded him of Oikawa—except (Y/n) didn't exactly pay his fangirls any attention. (And he didn't have an ass as flat as printer paper.) But did that stop them from trying to get into his pants? No.

In all honesty, Ryu felt lucky that he had someone like (Y/n) as a boyfriend, although he didn't like the fangirls—who paid him no mind whenever they were together. It annoyed him that they kept surrounding (Y/n) who clearly wanted nothing to do with them, begging him for dates, one night stands, anything.

To say that Tanaka was mildly uncomfortable was an understatement.

🌇🌇

Today was a bit different. Instead of a crowd of women rushing towards (Y/n), it was just one—; Misaki Isayama. The woman (almost) every guy considered perfect. This was...manageable, but what did she want? Well—at least it was only one girl. He had only woken up a little over an hour ago, and wasn't exactly ready for his simps just yet.

“(L/n)-chan, can you help me study for the science exam that's coming up?”

“Just because you're my upperclassman, doesn't mean you can call me that.” (Y/n) said quietly, rubbing his eyes, then yawning. “I'm on my way to the lecture hall though, so maybe after that? I should be fully awake by then..”

Misaki smiled and nodded her head. “It's a date!”

“No. No it's not.”

🏙️🏙️

Tanaka let (Y/n) lean on him during the lecture. That turned into one sided cuddling from the sleepy man. Ryu thought it was cute how (Y/n) always clung to him when he was sleepy. He was a little sad when (Y/n) fully awoke, and let him go, but it was for the best.

“Oh, Ryu-san. I'm tutoring the rumored ‘perfect woman’, and it's gonna be awkward with just the two of us, so can y—”

“You headin to the library? I was on my way there anyway. I'll join ya.”

The (h/c) haired man nodded, and they both walked all the way to the other side of the schoolyard to the library building. Tanaka even held (Y/n)'s hand to flex on the girls they passed by. Some of the girls were noticeably annoyed or a little angry, which pleased him.

When they finally arrived, Misaki was standing by the door. Upon seeing Ryu, she scowled. But it was only for a second.

“Ah, (L/n)-kun..who's this?”

(Y/n) smiled, oblivious to Misaki and Tanaka glaring at each other. Needless to say, the intense atmosphere went right over his head. “This is my boyfriend..Tanaka. He'll be joining us if that's okay.”

“‘Perfect woman’ my ass..the only ‘perfect woman’ I know is Kiyoko-san.” Tanaka mumbled under his breath. (Y/n) may not have known, but Misaki and Tanaka were always competitive with each other. Other times he wouldn't have cared, but now that (Y/n) is what he's fighting for, he wasn't gonna back down.

“Oh, it's fine.” Misaki said through gritted teeth.

🏙️🏙️

Isayama and Tanaka were left sitting at a table alone, while (Y/n) searched for the science books. They sat in complete silence, but it was almost as if you could hear their thoughts—mentally arguing with one another.

(Y/n) returned with three books, seating himself between Isayama and Ryu. “Okay! Let's get started!”

***

As (Y/n) went on explaining the laws of physics (because Tetsurou used to tutor him), Misaki and Tanaka continued their epic staring battle. The battle ended once they noticed that (Y/n) had stopped talking. He was chewing his tongue in thought, trying to figure out how to pronounce a word.

Misaki didn't notice, but (Y/n) had gone from physics, to microbiology. In less than five minutes.

“Something wrong?”

“How do you say this word again..?” The (e/c) eyed man pointed to a bolded word in the textbook, leaning back a bit so the other two could see.

A suffocating silence reigned over the three of them, but only for about three seconds.

Isayama squinted a bit before she spoke. “Endothelial?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks, senpai.”

Isayama smiled smugly at Ryuunosuke. The said man had a visible tick mark (💢) on the side of his head, symbolizing his annoyance. Tanaka only wanted (Y/n) to call him ‘senpai’—even if they were the same age (if not, then (Y/n) might be older). It made him feel like he was a dependable upperclassman, maybe even a bit turned on in certain situations. But hearing (Y/n) call someone else senpai..made him a little sad.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. As Tanaka reached into his pocket to get his phone, he caught (Y/n) putting his own phone in his jacket pocket. Tanaka turned on his phone to see a message from (Y/n) in his recent notifications.

Pretty boy💖: Go to the bathroom. I'll join you later.

Although he was a bit confused, he got up from his chair. “‘M gonna go take a leak.” Ryu said as he started to make his way towards the men's restroom.

Almost five minutes pass before (Y/n) goes into the bathroom after Tanaka, telling Misaki that he was checking on him. As soon as (Y/n) had passed the first bathroom stall, he was yanked into the second one, the door locking almost immediately after it shut behind him. He wasn't given any time to react before he felt a familiar pair of soft lips violently smash against his own. (Not violent enough to make his mouth bleed or anything. Chill.)

A heated battle for dominance arose between the two, (Y/n) quickly taking the lead as he gently bit Ryu's lip.

They didn't want this to end, but eventually Tanaka had to break the kiss because he couldn't breathe. He stood there, breathless in his boyfriend's arms, not wanting (Y/n) to let go.

“Ryuunosuke..” Tanaka flinched upon his first name being said—even though (Y/n) said it many times before. His reaction brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face. “I love you~..” He said, drawing out the three words in a sing-song voice.

Ryu felt his legs getting weak, and held onto (Y/n) for dear life. (Somewhat out of fear that he might fall.) He wasn't actually feeling like this because of three words...right? “Babe..am I supposed to be kinda horny right now?” It was a bit of a strange question, but hey, it never hurts to ask.

(Y/n) chuckled. “Well, yeah. I might have to carry you out of here once we're done.” His warm smile from earlier didn't falter as he spoke.

‘How can he say something like that so casually? If I say something like that, I'd get d–’ Ryu's thoughts were snapped away when he felt his chest touch the stall divider and his pants being pulled down. He let out a soft moan as (Y/n) stroked him through his boxers.

🏙️

‘What the hell is taking them so long?!’ Isayama got up from where she sat, and went to the men's bathroom. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would see her going in. She opened the first stall's door. ‘If they ditched me, I swear to go–’

“W-Wait, (Y/n)!~ Haa!~♡”

“Geez senpai, you're so wet inside~..♡”

Misaki froze. She couldn't be sure that it was (Y/n) and Tanaka in there—but those were definitely Tanaka's pants hanging over the second stall's door. Now she felt more..curious than angry. Isayama slipped into the first stall, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her, and slowly locking it so it didn't make noise.

Ryu tried to keep his breathing steady as (Y/n) fucked him with his fingers—even though that did absolutely nothing to help his current situation. Hell, he couldn't even process words anymore. The only actual word he could say was his boyfriend's name. He eventually remembered how to speak after about two minutes of being finger-fucked.

He wanted to sound more demanding, but his voice came out more whiny than what he'd have liked it to. “Fuck me already..ya fuckin– Hng!~” It may have been that he couldn't process it, or that (Y/n) had moved at the speed of sound, but Tanaka wasn't able to register how fast (Y/n) pulled his fingers out, and shoved his cock into his still tight hole. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a choked whine.

“You were saying?~♡” (Y/n) asked, though it sounded more like a demand than a question.

Tanaka wasn't given a chance to answer due to (Y/n) ruthlessly fucking the poor man senseless. His loud whines and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, much to (Y/n)'s pleasure. He wanted everyone to know that he was a taken man. He wanted everyone on campus to hear Ryuunosuke's pleasurable cries.

Hearing the two men fucking in the next stall turned Isayama on to no end. (Even though it was more of (Y/n)'s voice that made her wet.) But she resisted touching herself because she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she masturbated to her rival getting fucked. (A kinda stupid reason, but okay.)

“Fu–fuck, (Y/n)!~ So good..it feels so good!~” Ryu babbled, the words almost incoherent as he attempted to push back against his boyfriend's cock. “More!~ Give me more!~♡” He begged, voice broken and choking on his own breath.

The (e/c) eyed man didn't say a word. As his senpai had politely asked of him, (Y/n) drove his cock so deep into Tanaka that the said man let out the loudest drawn out moan (Y/n) had ever heard from him. If it weren't for the cum spewing from the teary eyed man, (Y/n) would've thought he had hurt his lover. He wasn't entirely sure until he felt Ryu continue to push back against him, desperate for more friction.

“Aww..you're so cute when you act like a bitch in heat, senpai~..♡”

He only got a choked whine in response.

“I'm pretty close anyway..do you want it inside?~♡” (Y/n) asked, pulling the shaky man up to his chest. Again, only a whine. (Y/n) parted Ryu's lips with his fingers, those fingers soon being coated in saliva. “Use your words~..”

Finally, Tanaka spoke, despite his unintentional dry heaving. “Fuck me- please~..”

“As you wish~♡” (Y/n) almost whispered, gripping Tanaka's cock firmly, earning another broken moan from the said man. “You're the only person I'd fuck like this, you know that, right?” He said, as he rubbed the shorter man's stomach.

“Y-Yeah..that makes me happy~..”

Lmao this was like- 80% highschool drama (in a college setting), and the remaining 20% being me getting horny for no reason. Also, I'm aware this made no sense. None of the stuff I write makes sense. :)

The class session is now over!~♡

#tanaka x reader #tanaka x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #anime x male reader #m!reader #x male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #ryuunosuke x reader

[peachesofteaches]

Queen Peaches 🍑 would you bless us with a blurb. Like maybe y/n is studying for uni and it’s taking up a lot of her time so Damon gets all needy and sad but when he shows up she’s having a meltdown bc she’s so stressed and he just babies the fuck out of her and maybe a soft blowjob.

HERE YOU GOO! So cute v fluff. Enjoy

Word count: 2,604 (18+ filth)

Damon stood in the living room of his girlfriend's childhood home, politely dismissing her grandmother to make his way upstairs to her bedroom. The old stairs creak beneath him as he nears her door. It reminds him of when she still lived here before she went to college. He was always intrigued with her, coming to check on her in the middle of the night or press his ear against the wood to listen to her, Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena during a sleepover.

With the end of term approaching, Y/N chose to come home to study. Damon remembers her mentioning how she wanted to spend more time with her grandmother so he didn’t bother trying to coax her into staying at his place. Usually, she comes over for sleepovers almost nightly, but recently she’s been studying in her room, isolating herself from her friends and her boyfriend.

It’s not by choice- he knows. Yet, this is how she handles stress, as unhealthy as it is. He misses her though. Misses the sound of her laugh and her smell surrounding him. The pitter-patter of her feet in the boarding house. Finding locks of her hair everywhere. She hasn’t texted him back all day, or anybody for that matter, and after a long talk with Bonnie about how Y/N stresses herself to the point where she gets sick, he decided to intervene before things got bad.

He hasn’t been up to her old bedroom in years but when he opens her door, it all comes rushing back in an instant. The walls of her room are still painted a faint yellow and fairy lights are strung up across the wall, casting a warm glow across the room. Posters decorated her walls along with an assortment of framed photographs that had gathered dust over the years. Her bedspread was still white, holding a pile of pastel stuffed animals that all stared at him as he walked in the room. His eyes fell on his girlfriend who sat at the white desk facing the window, headphones over her ears, aggressively typing on her computer.

Cold coffee mugs cluttered up the corners of her desk along with assorted pens and pencils and could hear the quiet thrumming of Deftones playing through her headphones. Not wanting to startle her, he picked up a build-a-bear off her bed and threw it against the legs of her chair. Her shoulders tensed before she turned around with a furrowed brow, softening when she saw Damon standing by her window.

She pulled the headphones off her ears, laying them against the keyboard of her laptop. “What did Peach ever do to you?” She said, leaning over to pick up the pink plush bear and hold it against her chest.

Damon smirked and walked over to her, bending down on his knees to kiss her deeply, fingers tangling in her hair. He could feel her body relaxing into the kiss and her hold on the bear loosened until it laid in her lap, staring at Damon with beady, plastic, eyes.

When they pulled apart Y/N’s hand went to her lips, feeling the tingling sensation that arose. “Hey.” She greeted, her cheeks turning a pink tint that blended in with the glow of the fairy lights across her walls.

“Hey.” He responded, bringing his hands to rest on her knees where he squeezed assuringly. “How’s the studying going?” He peered over to the computer, finding a written essay on a google doc. The side of the document was heavy with comments and edits made at different points during the day.

She sighs, glancing at her laptop. “I finished my research paper. I’m just trying to edit it now.”

“You finished everything else though?”

She nods quietly, blinking at the words on the screen. He draws her eyes back to him by swiveling her desk chair back and forth. “What's wrong, cutie?” He juts out his lower lip when he finds tears glistening behind her eyes.

She shakily raises a hand and swipes at her eyes before the tears fall. “I’m just mad. At myself. Nothing sounds good and I used the word ‘and’ too much. It sounds stupid.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Seven hours.” His mouth falls open at her answer. He doesn't know why he’s surprised. Her eyes are squinting and she’s worked a wrinkle between her eyebrows from staring at the computer so intensely. He wishes she would wear her glasses while she was working, but she’s always losing them and never wants to wear them. Her lip quivers as she snaps shut the lid of the laptop. “It’s awful.”

Tears fall from her eyes, marking up her doll-like cheeks in wet trails.

“Awh, baby.” He draws her in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her torso when her head falls to his shoulder. Her shoulders quiver with the oncoming sniffles and tears that prick at the cotton of his shirt. “Shh, shh. You’re under a lot of pressure right now and you’re probably really tired. Hmm?”

She doesn't answer, just cries into his shoulder letting the weight of the stress she’s holding melt onto her boyfriend. He holds her steadily, slightly rocking them side to side as she works to calm herself down.

“Listen,” he said, taking her face into his hands. “Let’s get you cleaned up and take a little nap. I’ll wake you up in an hour so you can get back to work, ok?”

“No-” She protests before Damon holds up a finger, hushing her retort.

“Ah-Ah. How about tomorrow we can go bother old Stefan and get him to read your paper before you turn it in? He’s always been better at that kind of stuff than I am. Then after we can go see a movie, or do whatever you want.”

It takes her a minute before she nods with her cheeks squished between his palms, letting her body fall forward when he brings her close for a kiss. “C’mon, now,” Damon says, gently pulling her to her feet by her elbow and wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as they shuffle into the bathroom.

Under the harsh white light of her bathroom, Damon can see the purple shade underneath her normally bright eyes. Her face looks so dejected and exhausted that it makes his chest twinge with an ache to hold her. They share soft words as Damon hands her a damp washcloth to wipe her tear-stained cheeks with. He combs through her hair with a brush, sighing at the silkiness of her locks. Y/N’s eyes melt closed as he brushes, the soft bristles against her scalp soothing her.

Damon’s got her into a pair of panties and one of his old shirts, which has been hiding in one of her drawers for the past two years. He knows she finds comfort in wearing his clothing, similar to how he finds comfort in smelling hers.

He tugs the hem of the shirt down to her thighs, smiling slightly when she leans into him for support. He strokes her back reassuringly, pecking the fleshy part of her cheek. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She shakes her head against his chest and Damon frowns because if she hasn’t eaten anything today he doubts she’s eaten the other days it’s been like this. “I can’t eat right now… too anxious.” She says, her voice muffled in his chest.

Damon sighs, peeling back the top corner of her white comforter and situating her beneath it. “Then I’ll make you something when you wake up. Deal?”

“Mmm.” She mumbles, stretching out her arms to Damon. “Cuddle with me?”

After kicking off his boots, Damon slips into the bed beside her, instantly bringing her body to his chest. She nestles her nose against the warmth of his throat, her breath soft as she exhales against the skin. They sit in silence for a while, soaking up the warmth of one another. With all the stress of dead week, Y/N has hardly had time to share with Damon. It makes her feel like a terrible girlfriend.

She’s been shut in her room, pouring over term papers and projects, giving them her all, and exhausting herself to the bone. She just wants to do well. Wants to be proud of herself. The thought of school has her tensing again and her ever-so-aware boyfriend notices, beginning to massage between her shoulder blades.

“Just relax, baby. I got you.” He assures her, dropping sweet kisses onto her hairline. His body feels so warm and sturdy beneath her that it spreads an all-too-familiar feeling throughout her body. His hands are rubbing gentle patterns into her skin as arousal grows in her abdomen. She shuffles a bit on his chest before she lifts her head, peering at him through the layers of hair in front of her face.

“You should try to sleep.” Damon’s voice is gravely, she can hear sleepiness in it. She sits up so her legs straddle his hips.

“I just want- I want to-” Tears prick at the corners of her eyelids and need bubbles in her chest so harshly she feels like she might go into a fit. “I want to suck you off.” The words slip from her quickly before she can catch him. Usually, Damon’s having to coax her wants out of her with teasing measures except that now she’s too tired to care and she just needs something to hold onto.

Damon rests his hands on her thighs, rubbing his thumb at the skin. Her eyes are beady, glistening in the fairy lights of her bedroom. “Baby, let's get some rest, hmm?” He tries to brush off the subject because he’s worried this is tired Y/N talking and he doesn't want to start anything if she’s second-guessing herself.

“No!” She whines, jutting out her bottom lip. “I don’t want to rest right now, I can’t. I need you.”

His mouth forms a slight ‘o’ o shape when he realizes how she needs him. Soft, coaxing, supportive. He drums at the top of her thigh as a way of giving her permission to situate herself between his legs. Her head comes to rest on his hip bone where her warm breath sends goosebumps along the skin. Damon’s sensitive to her touch right now. They haven’t had sex in a couple of days and it has his mind spinning with filth. As much as he tries to hide how much he’s aroused- this is her show after all- he can’t help the semi that stretches the crotch of his jeans.

With a small hand, Y/N presses her palm against the tent of his pants, squeezing over the bulge and biting down on her bottom lip when Damon cranes his neck against her pillow, his mouth falling open in pleasure. She wants to make him feel good because he does so much for her. He’s patient and understanding. He doesn't see her crying fits over school as silly or naive.

With dainty fingers, Y/N pops open the button on Damon’s jeans earning a soft, relieved, sigh from him. She pushes away the rest of his clothing before taking his dick into her hands, sliding him into her mouth. She sucks and licks at the pinkish tint of his member before relaxing her jaw and filling her mouth.

Damon groans loud, reaching up a hand to brush away the fallen strands of hair that gather in front of her pretty eyes. He wants to watch her face while she sucks him off and his arousal grows when he sees her eyes closed and her face relaxed as she bobs her head. Her head comes up to lick repeatedly at his slit. His hips jolt with her movements, bucking up into the velvety insides of her mouth when she opens up for him again.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so good at that.” He murmurs, composing himself to finger-comb her hair behind her shoulders. One of her hands wraps around the base of his cock, squeezing with two fingers. She gazes up at him through thick eyelashes, taking in his pleasured expression. It urges her on further and she goes so deep that the tip of her nose brushes against the skin above his groin.

He has one hand holding onto her thighs while the other strokes her cheek softly with a thumb. “So good, baby doll. Right there.” He praises her with a soft voice that makes her feel taken care of and small. Her body is warm with the affection that swirls inside of her. She’s already starting to notice how her brain is calming down. She can only focus on Damon and it makes her feel a lot better. She knows she’s doing a good job with this because he’s told her before and his expression is pure bliss.

“You’re so perfect, you know?” He continues stroking her cheek so gently the act alone makes her want to cry. How he can be so gentle while she’s giving him her best head, she doesn't know, but she’s not complaining one bit. The reassurances are all part of the fun. “My perfect girl. I love you so much.”

She moans around him, feeling the wetness of precum slipping down her throat. He gives her little warning about his incoming orgasm, panting at her to get off before he comes but she stays where she is, continuing her pulse until he’s coming hard into her mouth. Spurts hit the back of her throat, coating her mouth in the stickiness that tastes sweet yet bitter at the same time. She swallows the cum gratefully before she pops off, a string of spit stretching from his tip to her mouth.

She smiles as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Holy shit, babe.” She crawls up beside the bed, situating herself on her side in the crook between his arm and his torso. “You don’t want a turn?” He asks, gazing at her tender expression. She shakes her head, blinking sleepily.

“No, I just want snuggles.”

He finds her lips and takes them to his, kissing her passionately. He can still taste himself on her lips, they’re sticky and he wants to coax her into the bathroom to brush her teeth but her eyes are growing heavier by the second and soon, she’s asleep.

~*~*~

He’s done some tidying up around the room, took down the coffee mugs that crowded the surfaces in her room once he made sure her grandmother was sleeping in her bedroom. He unplugged the fairy lights and switched on her bunny nightlight, tucking Peach beneath her arm then situated himself in bed beside her, stroking her back. Then, as promised, he wakes her up an hour later. Something tells him she won’t be waking up to edit her paper but he does it anyway to avoid her being upset with him later.

“Hey, baby girl.” He coos, playing with her hair until her eyes peel open slightly. The bunny night light casts a pink glow across her face that she turns away from, burying her face back into his chest. “It’s been an hour, do you want to get up?”

“No.” She pouts, sleepily pushing his shirt off his body. “Can you spend the night?”

He takes off his shirt and pushes off his jeans. He knows she likes the feeling of his skin against hers. It’s warm and smells like Damon. He situates himself on his back, pulling her close once more. “Sure.” He agrees, his whispers landing against her cheek.

#yeah #this was fun #obsessed with teen bedrooms in #film #so I had to write about one #damon salvatore #tvd damon #tvd #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction #damon x reader #damon x y/n #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore x reader #tvd smut

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Geralt and the Minotaur p3

Y’all this could get hella complicated if I go hard with all the character sub ideas and all that but I’m here for the relationship so its gonna be bare bones on combining the canon bc I’m just not that skilled as a writer 😂 

Pairing : Geraskier

Warnings: talk of human sacrifice, talk of cannibalism, ye ole impending death, mention parents death, imprisonment, public humiliation (kinda), we got major soft boys falling for each other vibes too

part 2 here!

__________

Geralt woke with his head still resting on Jaskier’s thigh, though he was now lying on his side, resting his head against Geralt’s hip just above the dagger tucked in his belt. He had draped his arm over Jaskier’s waist as they slept, holding him closer, and Jaskier’s arm was resting on Geralt’s chest. It was still dark and, from the sounds of it, everyone else was still asleep save a few soldiers at the helm. The waves had settled to a gentle lapping at the hull and Geralt found himself completely relaxed and at peace for the first time in weeks. His hand rose and fell in a gentle rhythm with Jaskier’s breathing and every now and then the blue eyed boy would sigh, bringing a soft sleepy smile to Geralt’s face. He didn’t dare move, lest he break the spell, but someone else woke from a nightmare with a scream that shattered his illusion. 

Jaskier hummed and nuzzled into Geralt’s hip before he was fully awake, making the prince blush furiously and gasp. Sure he’d fallen asleep with friends and romantic interests back home, but that sensation was… different. 

“Is it morning?” Jaskier mumbled, not moving to sit, but at least the nuzzling had stopped. 

“Probably,” Geralt answered, resisting the urge to run his hand over Jaskier’s shoulder, “still early.”

“You haven’t been lying awake all this time have you?”

Geralt forced a breath out his nose in amusement, “Only a few minutes or so.”

Jaskier sat up, laying his arm over Geralt’s, keeping it wrapped around his waist as he moved to be able to inspect the young hero’s face, “You still look… weary.”

Geralt frowned, shifting so he was leaning on his elbow over the boy’s legs, still very much resting on him, “I wonder why?”

Jaskier smirked, “Is it true you’re a child of Poseidon? Why not sink the ship and we can all ride horses made of sea foam back to the mainland?”

Geralt cast his eyes down to the deck, “They’d just come back for more. It doesn’t matter who’s son I am or what favor I do or don't have.” 

"Pull the weed at the root." Jaskier nodded. 

Geralt hummed in agreement, sitting all the way up to lean against the mast next to the brunette, "What about your family? Anything exciting waiting for you at home?"

Jaskier hooked his arm around Geralt's and rested his head on his shoulder, "Doesn't matter." 

"Does to me." Geralt mumbled, a little taken aback by the physical affection. When Jaskier rolled his eyes he laid his hand over his knee, "Humor me." 

They sat and waited for the sun to rise over the water as they discussed Jaskier’s life. His parents death, the farm he worked for his uncle, the mundane little things like how often he gets sent to the market and who cuts his hair. They learned each other's birthdays as a joke, but the hopeful side of Geralt still repeated it to him a few minutes later just to be safe. Jaskier asked him about life at the palace, if it was as grand as everyone believed. Geralt felt squeamish admitting he didn’t know, seeing as he'd only really lived in the lap of luxury. Sure his trek to Athens was dirty and many nights he slept in barns, but most of his 20 years were spent in bright white togas and tunics with colorfully stitched hems. Jaskier didn’t seem bothered, he just asked more specific questions about the beds and the fountains. He pontificated for a while on the poor musical choices made in a performance at the amphitheater last summer and did his best to explain to Geralt how to delicately pluck a harp using a lock of his white hair as a prop. Joking was easy, being earnest wasn’t quite effortless, but it was easier than with other people, and Geralt lamented that they’d only met yesterday. 

“Do you think you’d’ve given me the time of day?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt grinned, giving the brunet's leg another squeeze, “You wouldn’t have given me a choice.”

Jaskier rested his chin on Geralt's shoulder, his hair fluttering into his eyes and glowing gold as the sun began to peek over the waves, "Probably not, no." His voice was soft in Geralt's ear, the warmth of his breath made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. 

Geralt turned to look at him, their noses brushing. He was about to ask Jaskier something reckless and naive, no doubt born of desperation, but the moment was broken by shouting. 

"LAND" Echoed from various soldiers and strangled sobs broke out in response. Reality was once again stubbornly planted in the forefront of Geralt's mind and he forced himself to pull away. His heart beat furiously in his chest as he stood to get a better look. 

Someone gripped his elbow and spun him around, staring up at him with wide eyes full of terror, "You can do it, can't you? You can get us home?" The harsh whisper seemed to carry over the whole group, commanding their silence and attention as they formed a circle around him. 

Vessimir's parting words echoed in his head, he was a leader now, he had to act like it. His year of lessons and training and taking notes were over and he knew right then that even if they made it back, he'd never have a day of peace again. 

With a glance back toward Jaskier he nodded, "I will bring us home or die trying." 

The person's grip on his elbow tightened and he stared back at them with what he hoped was reassuring confidence for a moment before they released him, "Do you have a plan?" 

All his preparation could never have braced him for the absolute devastation on the group's faces when he hesitated. In the fraction of a second he took to open his mouth they knew. Only Jaskier seemed to accept the facts and take them in stride. 

"All I know for sure is that we need to make it out and back to the docks by dawn." Geralt's admission was met with curt nods from some and fresh tears from others, "I'm sorry." 

Jaskier pipped up, stepping into the center of the small crowd with Geralt, "You volunteered to try to save us. We need no apology." He sent a glare to someone about to speak in protest, cutting them off, "It's more than we've had in the last 18 years and I, for one, am grateful." 

Geralt gave him an appreciative nod but their theatrics were drawing attention from the soldiers. He shooed everyone away, not sure he could handle another altercation this close to the soldiers homeland where they'd have something to prove to onlookers.  

As they drew nearer to the shore they heard shouts of laughter and music, saw banners waving in the wind and people dancing around the port. They were throwing a festival. A festival of revenge and dominance over their enemies, where people who would have been sacrifices delighted in the activities. It made Geralt's stomach churn. 

Jaskier stood next to him as close to the bow as they were allowed, "Twisted, isn't it? And they wonder how we so readily believe they eat their brethren." 

Geralt took his hand, searching for anything to ground him as the fear crept up his neck and threatened to strangle him, "Monsters never think they're monsters." 

"You like being cryptic don't you?" Jaskier sighed, keeping his eyes forward as the festivities grew clearer and clearer. 

Geralt only shrugged in response. 

Soon enough they were all corralled by the soldiers with shouts and shoves. They tied Geralt's hands first, yanking on the rope so it burned into his wrists. The man was watching his face, waiting to see him wince or twitch. He gave them nothing. The end of the rope was then tied to Jaskier and so on until they were all lined up, hands bound in front of them and linked like sausages. 

When they docked there was a heavy drum roll, fitting for the captives in line behind Geralt trembling. The plank was lowered by soldiers in what had to be ceremonial dress and when they stepped back the drummers hit one last beat, leaving the whole crowd silent. 

At the front, surrounded by soldiers and standing on a throne made to be carried, was King Minos. His eyes were cold and calculating, and it was clear he was declining in health, but he still invoked fear with his gaze. There was no doubt to any rumors anymore. Geralt was sure this man was capable of absolutely anything. 

The Queen sat in a similar throne, next to them was their daughter, walking but flanked by guards. She didn’t take her eyes off Geralt as they prodded him down the plank. Her eyes were soft, betraying the rest of her face set in a hard mask of disapproval, and she made no effort to hide her ogling. Geralt stared right back, never one to back down from a challenge, until they were ushered past the royals into the crowd. The citizens were far more animated. Some threw food scraps at them, some jeered and gestured rudely, others spat, though they all blamed the 14 young men and women before them for the death of a prince before they were even born. 

They marched through winding streets and up set after set of switchback stairs to reach the palace dungeons. The guards were having their fun with Geralt in the lead, shoving him around when they needed to change direction and tripping him when they passed a large crowd. 

When they finally reached their cells they were shoved in, two to a cell, and the rope was cut. They had to hold their arms through the bars for the soldiers to cut the knotts. They took the rope with them when they left, leaving only bread and water on the bed and one torch lit hanging outside each cell. It was dreary and cold, and Geralt could hear the others crying.

Jaskier broke the loaf of bread in half and tossed it to Geralt, taking a long pull directly from the pitcher of water, “Eat. No arguments.”

__________

part 4 here

tag list: @hailhailsatan @so--many-fandoms

hmu if you want tagged 💕 I will cry tears of joy in my coffee

#the wticher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia fic #geraskier #geraskier greek au #greek au #greek mythology au #the witcher au #the witcher greek mythology au #geralt and the minotaur #geraskier greek mythology au #greek gay bois #this is a shit load of characterization and bonding and i defs am gonna pick up the pace pretty soon so just bear with me kids

[spiderman-homecomeme]

you know how to treat it (you know how to eat it)

in which a very drunk Peter calls MJ late one night and tells her about one of his biggest fantasies

thotumn. day 6 & 9. face-sitting. “Shut up.” “Why don’t you make me?”

Thank you again @spideysmjs​ for setting this up! and bc i am a grandma i don’t know how to schedule things correctly, so this is goin up a little early! Enjoy!

Michelle blinks, eyes itching with exhaustion as she finally closes the textbook in her lap, tossing aside the convoluted words and scribbled notes. It’s late, too late for having an eight AM class in the morning, but Dr. Wheeler seems to have it out for her class, sending out an assignment with just twelve hours to go. You won’t have time in the real world, she’d said. People will throw things at you and ask for it back in an hour, she’d said.

While MJ didn’t doubt the validity of that statement, she thought thirty pages of notes with no warning was a little excessive. This is just undergrad. 

Her phone pings, and she knows it’s from Cindy, ranting about that very same assignment. And sure enough, she sees the text wall, the string of upside down smiley-faces. Tapping out a reply in solidarity and a quick good night, MJ sets her phone aside, flopping back against the mattress and tugging the blanket up to her chin.

She’s just turned off her bedside lamp, just nestled into the covers, just found the that perfect spot on the bed, when the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand yanks her back into the conscious world. 

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, her curls landing back on her face as she sits up, she grabs for her phone. And even if she’s a little annoyed, a sleepy smile stretches across her lips as Peter’s face lights up the screen. 

“Hey.” Her voice comes out in a tired, croaky murmur. 

“Emmmmmmm Jaaaaaaaaaaay,” Peter draws out warmly, so much so that she swears she can see his silly, delirious grin. 

So he’s drunk. 

“Hey, Pete,” she says again, falling back against the pillows. “What’s up?”

“Jus’ wanted to call and say hi—” he says slowly, as if he’s careful not to trip over his words, trying to sound sober even though he’s very much not. “—to my beautiful girlfriend.”

She cracks another smile, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand, knocking her feet together. “At… One in the morning?” 

Peter gasps. “Aw, shit. Em, did I wake you?”

“Well, no. Not really,” she lets out a light laugh. “I was just getting in bed.” 

“Oh. Okay, good.” She hears shifting on his side, hearing him almost drop the phone as he shuffles around what she assumes is his own bed. “Yeah, me too. Harry, Ned, and I went out and… I’ve been drinking. Just a li’l bit. But we got home and I just was like ‘Wow! I really wanna hear MJ’s voice.’ So I called you. Here I am.” 

The ooey, gooey side of her that melts when Peter says anything of the sort threatens to come out, and for not the first time, she’s glad to not live in the dorms anymore, her only roommate being on the other side of the apartment. “Cute,” she says. 

“Just know I’m giving you the biggest phone-hug right now.” His voice is muffled as he no doubt pushes the phone against his face. 

Even cuter. 

And even though she feels a little silly, she squeezes her phone, too. “Weirdo,” she says, unable to hide the affection in her tone—though to be fair, she’s not really trying all that hard. 

“But you loooooove meeeeee.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I love you!” There’s more shuffling on his end, his grunts from trying to get comfortable making her grin. He lets out a long sigh. “God, I can’t wait to see you this weekend.”

MJ’s chest warms at the reminder. “Me neither.” 

“We’re gonna have so much sex.”

The snort she lets out surprises her—almost as much as what he’s just said. While she doesn’t doubt his statement—because yeah, she definitely misses that—she just can’t help but laugh. “How much have you had to drink?” She asks.

“Just a li’l…” He mumbles, though from his tone she can tell that he’s severely understating how much he’s had to drink. “Like… I’m drunk but like—I’m not… Druuuunk. You know? Like, I’m not, ‘woooooooooo party!!’ drunk.”

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she nods, even though he can’t see her. “Yeah. Sure. Uh huh.” 

“I’m jus’ sleepy,” he says innocently. “Very, very sleepy.”

“Then you should go to sleep,” She teases, her cheeks starting to hurt. “Get some rest, Tiger,” she says softly. 

“I wanna talk to you first, though,” he says, and she can almost hear the pout in his tone. It makes her shake her head fondly. “I miss you. A lot. So much.”

A pang of something tugs at MJ’s heart. “I miss you, too,” she replies earnestly, a lump forming in her throat. 

They knew what they were getting into, going long-distance. What, with Peter choosing to stay at Empire State and Michelle choosing Princeton. It wasn’t too long of a drive, by any means, but it was still an hour and a half. It meant not being able to see each other on the busiest days. It meant having to go weeks without seeing each other, without holding or kissing each other. And it was nights like this, long nights after rough study sessions that she wished they could be together, that she could cuddle up to him and squeeze away all of her worries, even if just for a few moments. 

She refuses to let this get to her right now, though. Not while they’re on the phone in the middle of the night. Especially not while he’s intoxicated. 

“God, I wish you were here,” she hears him breathe into the phone, and she has to crack a smile at that, biting her bottom lip. That tone is one she’s very familiar with. “With me. In my bed.”

She holds back another snort at that. “Yeah?” 

“It’d be pretty nice,” he continues. “I just wanna…” 

He trails off a bit, and she’s wondering if he’s fallen asleep when the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Just wanna taste you.”

“Peter!” She scolds him lightly, not expecting him to go from zero to a hundred that quickly. 

“I love eating you out, though. Oh my God.”

She can feel her face absolutely burning now, hearing his gruff voice right in her ear; she can picture it so clearly, his head buried between her legs, his curls tickling her thighs as he—

“And you know what’d be, like, really cool?” 

She has to laugh at that, covering her mouth, unconsciously crossing her legs. “What?”

There’s another bout of silence where he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been thinking about this so much, oh my God. But like… I really wanna eat you out but… with like you above me? Y’know? There’s a word, or some term for that I know but I can’t think of it…” His voice lowers to a mumble at the end, and she can hear him take a deep breath as he tries to think. His drunken, fuzzy laugh tugs at her chest.

Her lips twist into a knowing smile, her face hot, a gentle ache forming between her thighs as her own breathing starts to slow. “You want me to sit on your face?” 

“Fuck, yeah. That’s it. God, Em. You’re so smart.” He hums. “That’d be so great. So hot.”

“I try,” she jokes. 

“You always suc—succeed,” he says, pausing as he tries to navigate each syllable. “I just can’t stop thinking about you and like—your thighs just around my head and you—you just grinding yourself on my face. Fuck—”

She almost hates Peter for bringing this up—drunk or not—because now it’s all she’s going to be able to think about for the next few days until they can see each other. Squeezing her legs together to relieve some of the ache, she smiles. “That does sound pretty cool.”

“Right? So cool. So cool.”

“I mean,” she starts slowly, her fingers absently playing with a loose thread on the blanket. “We could probably try that,” she offers with a feigned sense of nonchalance. There’s nothing casual about how she’s feeling right now. This is definitely something she’s going to have to talk to sober Peter about tomorrow. Or the next time she sees him. 

Not ignoring this. At all. 

“Wait. Fuck—Really?”

And again, she has to hold back the laugh at how enthusiastic he sounds, feeling that dumb, warm fuzzy feeling even when he’s talking about wanting her to sit on his face. 

“Yeah,” she replies, a little breathless. 

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” he beams into the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And not just because you let me eat you out—”

She swears, if he says, ‘eat you out,’ one more time—

“—But also because you’re so smart, and so funny, and so pretty, and just so amazing, and such a good person and I’m so lucky to have you, like, holy shit. I really hit the jackpot.”

She can only manage a short, near-timid response. It’s not a strange occurrence, her boyfriend showering her with praise—this is just a day in her life being with him. But hearing his soft voice at one in the morning—even drunk—somehow just hits differently. “Well, jeez, Pete…” 

“I love cuddling with you, and holding you, and kissing you—”

“—And having sex with me?” She asks, teasing. 

“—Especially having sex with you. F’course.”

His voice is starting to trail off, syllables melting together as he fights to stay awake. She wants to call him on his shit, to tease him for tapping out after drunkenly trying to initiate phone sex—sure, it might have been doomed from the start, but it could’ve been fun.

Instead, she laughs, listening as his breathing slows. She smiles hearing his gentle snore. 

When he texts her the next morning, he doesn’t mention his little fantasy. In fact, he doesn’t seem to remember their late night phone call at all. The night before is all just a fuzzy, blurry haze of too much tequila shots, according to him. And given how he doesn’t remember the exact number of adult beverages he’d had—it has to be somewhere in the late teens with his super-liver and super-kidneys—it’s not all that surprising that his initial good morning text is just a series of the throwing-up emoji. 

At least, she would sincerely hope that’s not related to what he’d said last night. 

But still, she decides to take this opportunity to both mess with the love of her life, and surprise him—her two favorite things. This decision comes from how clueless he acts when she asks, the series of question marks that follow her question about what exactly he remembers. She doesn’t fill Peter in on what he said, keeping it all to herself. No, the less he actually knows, the better the surprise will actually be. And the fact that he’s apparently been thinking about this for a long time—all without saying something—just makes it all the more sweeter. 

And just as she’d thought, she can’t get Peter’s words out of her mind. With another visit coming up in the next two days, it almost makes the wait even worse. Everytime she so much as stops whatever busy-work she’s doing, her brain immediately swerves back into that lane. In class, in the library, on the quad, in her apartment. It’s all too much. It doesn’t matter. Ever since Peter said that, she hasn’t known peace. 

It takes everything in her the next night not to bring it up again during their regular skype call. 

No, she’s able to get a grip, at least to some degree. 

But every sense of self-control goes flying out the window as soon as she’s on his doorstep.

The door to his apartment isn’t even closed before MJ’s on him. She’s been dangling this “surprise” over his head for the past two days—two days too many. Her kisses are greedy, drinking him in as she grabs fistfulls of his shirt and nearly ripping it off of him. And she revels in the feeling—as she always does—of his skin under her touch after so long apart. The feeling of his hands roaming her hips and waist, needy and insistent, fingers digging into her skin is the high she needs, the one she always needs, that she can’t imagine living without.

“So you really don’t remember what you said on the phone the other night?” She asks against his mouth, perched on his lap, his hands gripping her hips as she unconsciously grinds down. 

Peter’s eyes squeeze shut at the feeling, his grip tightening as he breathes out a laugh. “No. No, I don’t.” 

“Mmm…” A floaty smile tugs at the corner of her lips as they gently press against his in a deceptively chaste kiss. “Shame.”

He pulls back after a moment, something in his eyes saying that he’s already picked up on her tone. “Was it good? Bad?” 

Her hands wander up, hanging around his shoulders, one playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as she squints playfully at him. “I’d say good.”

“Oh?” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks up at her. “Well, cool. Glad I don’t have to worry about saying something stupid.”

“No, you always have to worry about that.”

“Hey!” 

With a swift pinch to her sides, she jerks forward, curling into him with a surprised yelp. 

“Don’t be rude,” he says through a laugh, still tickling her. “What did I say?”

“Okay—okay, fine!” Michelle pushes him away, unable to hide the humor in her tone. “I’ll tell you. Or—I guess I’ll show you?” 

“‘Kay…” Peter looks up at her with wide, curious eyes; especially when she stands up, removing her shirt and underwear and kicking them to the side. His smile only widens when she pushes him back onto the bed, hovering above him, straddling his hips. And because she can’t help herself, her lips immediately capture his, melting into him with a slow, heated kiss. His breathy moan shoots straight down between her thighs, and she presses against him in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. 

There’s a cheeky grin on his face when he pulls back as one of his hands wanders down to roughly knead her ass. “You gonna tell me what I said?”

With another quick kiss to his lips, she sits up. “Well, you were absolutely wasted.”

“Yeah…”

“And you were rambling on and on about how much you missed me, how much you loved me, how much you liked kissing me.” Despite her apparent confidence, her chest and cheeks are burning, her breath catching as she speaks. 

“Checks out.” A lop-sided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“And how much you liked eating me out? Apparently?” She just barely makes that out, her heart hammering in her throat, the heat in her center becoming almost unbearable. 

Peter closes his eyes, nodding solemnly. “Yes. Yup. I do.” He cracks another smile as he playfully squeezes her hips. “Flavortown is my favorite place.”

“No—” She gently slaps his bare chest, struggling to bite back her own grin. “Stop that.” 

Her hand smooths over his pec, down to his abs, smirking in delight as his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Sorry.” He winks. “Continue.”

“Well—” Michelle speaks slowly, starting to move herself up on him. “—You said you wanted to try something. Related. To that.”

His eyebrows raise curiously, his forehead wrinkling. “Yeah?” He asks, tilting his head. 

“Yeah. Something about me sitting on your face?” 

The way his eyes widen is something she can’t help but find adorable—so much so, she wishes she could take a picture of it. He breathes out a surprised—somewhat horny—laugh. He nods, giving a casual frown. 

“So does that sound like something you’d say?” Michelle asks, her voice low. “Is that something you want?”

Peter’s hands wander from her hips, ghosting along her sides, his thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts, and back down again, and when he looks up at her, there’s something in his eyes that causes her stomach to flip in the best way possible. 

But then, of course, he’s Peter.

“MJ, you’ll be glad to know. Just for this moment—”

And he has to open his mouth.

“—I saved the best seat in the house for you.”

He emphasizes his point, patting his mouth with two fingers. 

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, her lips twisting as she glares at him. “Okay. No. I’m done. Bye,” she says, struggling not to laugh as she starts to climb off of him. 

“Nooooooo—” Peter immediately keeps her in place, his hands on her hips. “—Please.”

“I’m so tired of you!” She laughs.

“Oh?” Peter tilts his head. “If you’re tired, why don’t you—” Another pat to his face. “—Take a seat?”

Only he can make her eyes roll in the back of her head in more than one way. “Shut up.”

There’s stupid, lopsided little grin on his face—full of too much mischief—as looks up at her, challenging. “Why don’t you make me?”

And she could swear that the wind’s been knocked out of her at that moment, the corner of her lips twitching upward into a surprised smile. 

He scoots them back, close enough that she can hang on to the headboard—of which he tells her she’ll definitely need to do.

She almost smacks him again. 

The air around her crackles with electricity as she slowly climbs up his chest, his hands on her thighs guiding her as she moves to straddle his face. Her own hands steady herself on the headboard, but she doesn’t look down until she’s in place, because, to be frank, it’s a lot to take in. Sure, she’s seen his face between her thighs plenty of times—it’s become one of her favorite sights in the world—but this, being above him, his mouth and nose covered by her as their eyes meet causes a heady rush to flare in her chest. There’s something about the way he grips her legs, his fingers digging into her thighs as he pulls her down.

It’s gentle at first, the deceptively chaste kisses he plants along her center, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathes her in. Already, he’s barely touched her and she feels seconds from falling apart, her face burning as his gaze flits up to meet hers. His lips ghost around her clit, never quite touching where she wants, and she can feel him smile against her as she unconsciously tries to grind herself onto him. He holds her still, looking up at her with a raised, amused brow, before licking a long stripe up her center.

The breathy moan he releases as he tastes her sends her head thrown back, and he smiles again as she sucks in a breath at the vibration, her grip on the headboard tightening. A shuddering sigh slips past her lips as his tongue swirls her arousal around, dipping down to the wetness at her entrance, his nose brushing against her clit. 

It’s the whine that leaves her lips that has him desperately pulling her closer, pressing her to him with such need, such hunger, such insistence; as if she’s oxygen. He moans without abandon into her cunt, his hard sucking on her clit causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up her spine, her toes to curl into the sheets. 

“Fuck, Peter—” She breathes, hanging her head as she struggles to hold herself upright on the headboard. 

He only hums, clearly in enthusiastic agreement, holding her flush against him, mouth hot and wet as he laps fervently at her heat, his fingers massaging her thighs, drifting to her hips and squeezing, before finally coming to the curve of her ass. 

She’s uncharacteristically shy at first, the tentative rocking of her hips coming in the heat of the moment. The muscles in her thighs twitch when he flattens his tongue and guides her, grinding her against him, his grip on her turning his knuckles white.

It’s always intoxicating, feeling him everywhere, his soft lips as they suck her clit, then his tongue as it spreads her arousal, as it starts fucking into her so well. A moan rips through her, her wet breath catching as he wraps a hand around to flick at her swollen clit. The warmth pooled in her lower stomach swells, melting, radiating through her legs to the tips of her toes, up to her chest. 

One of her hands falls from the headboard, snapping to his head, fingers carding through his curls for purchase, her chest heaving as fucks her with his tongue. A throaty moans escapes him as she jerks him closer, rutting herself against his face as she arches her back. 

She’s so close. Her thighs squeeze his head, the coil within her tightening and tightening, and—in an instant—there’s the invasive thought that he might not be able to breath. But when she tries to loosen up, when she starts to pull just an inch away, he reels her right back, more insistent, his hands on her hips, weighing her down. 

“So fucking good, MJ,” he praises filthily into her cunt, emphasizing his point with a hard slap to her ass. 

Her back straightens, rigid as she chokes on a gasp, the lewd sounds of his needy grunts, his sloppy kisses, her arousal—how wet she is on his lips and tongue—cause her body to burn, to set her skin alight, and she almost curses the both of them for not doing this sooner. 

It’s addictive, dangerously so, as she crumples forward against the headboard, her fist still in tangled in his hair, her muscles tightening, burning. This time, she doesn’t stop herself as her thighs close around his head, squeezing with a force that only eggs him on, his mouth urgent as it works her over.

“That’s it, baby—” His voice is muffled in her heat, drowned by his ministrations. 

She comes with a broken whine, panting with want as she feels herself spasming, a floaty, wavy smile pulling at her lips as Peter laps her through her orgasm. 

But even as she comes down from her first high, Peter—never one for backing down—doesn’t seem ready to quit. When she pulls up again, he yanks her back, his gaze pleading as he looks up at her, silently begging her not to move. It’s so soon after, though, and his mouth still so hot on her sensitive clit sends a shock through her, her hips desperately rocking against his face—the feeling both too much and not enough.

Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, ripping through her as he sucks harshly on her clit. It’s an out-of-body experience—cliche as it sounds; she swears her vision goes out for more than a second, and she wonders if she’s somehow accidentally pulled a chunk of his hair out with how hard she was gripping. It takes more than a moment to come back to reality, her hips bucking as Peter still laps languidly at her cunt, flicking slowly at her clit, as if he still hasn’t had his fill. It’s almost as if he’s making a show of it, the moans coming from his lips, the vibrations of them against hers, somehow making her even wetter. 

He pulls back slightly, and her mouth and throat goes dry seeing his nose, mouth, and chin slick and glistening with her. His lips puffy and pink, hair wild, looking completely fucked out. “You think you got a third?” He asks with a gentle pat to the curve of her hips.

And it’s his voice that makes her have to keep her eyes from rolling back; at least an octave lower, husky. 

But it’s the adoration in his eyes that makes her heart swell. 

Taking a shuddering breath, she nods. “Yeah,” she replies, biting her lip through a smile. “Please.”

He grins back up at her, scooting down on the bed a bit, pulling her with him. It gives her enough room to bend forward, now bracing herself on the mattress. His warm breath fans over her soaked cunt, and it takes everything in her not to squeeze her legs together again. His hands smooth over her skin, kneading the flesh of her ass as he pulls her down again. And he takes a moment to place another tender kiss on her sensitive clit—a gesture and touch that causes her hips to jolt—before taking hold of her and roughly pulling her down again. 

This time, he’s quick to wrap his lips around her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, yet still savoring her. Her choked moan is cut off as one of his hands coils around behind her, swiping his fingers through her wetness, coating themselves in her arousal. 

How Peter can get these sounds out of her, she thanks whatever higher power there is for that. The breathless whine the tumbles from her lips as her jaw goes slack, her body slumping further as he starts to pump two fingers into her, curling just so that she can’t help but chant his name like a prayer, over and over into the pillow. 

It’s not long before she’s coming all over his fingers, his mouth, feeling herself fluttering around him as she desperately grinds down. For a moment, she almost forgets where she is, smiling and mumbling dreamily, not even sure what she’s saying as Peter moves out from under her. She feels his lips on her back as he kisses his way up her spine, his lips soft and gentle, full of love, on her skin. 

When he reaches her face, his hand moves to cup her cheek as he lays beside her, his thumb smoothing over her skin. 

She blearily looks at him, dazed, body still thrumming, buzzing from her third orgasm. 

“Hey,” he says, his smile lop-sided, dopey; an expression so soft coming from someone doing such filthy things moments before. 

Peter. 

And MJ hums, closing her eyes again as he pulls her close, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss. Another moan escapes her as she tastes herself on his mouth, her tongue slipping past his lips, drinking him in. 

When he pulls back again, he can’t help but bite his lip. “How was that?” he asks, though from the smirk on his face, he seems to already know the answer. 

Still breathless, MJ grins, shrugging as she starts to sit up. “It was alright.” 

“Woooooow.” His jaw drops in mock-offense as he follows. “Three times was alright?” 

“I think we’ll have to do it again,” she teases. “Just so I can really form an opinion. You know?” 

“Oh, of course,” he murmurs, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes, his hands migrating to her hips, ready to pull her into his lap. 

But she stops him, her eyes tinted with mischief as she glances between his face and the outline of his painfully hard cock straining against his boxer briefs. 

“Is this seat taken?”

#spideychelle #thotumn 2020 #the return of flavortown #lmao #rated: e #petermj #the day 6 and 9 thing was not planned i swear dkfjslajfdak

[resilientdolan]

Drown (G.D) - part 12

A/N: IM SO SOFT FOR THESE 2 WTF, also the smut is badly written, bear with me pls bc smut ain’t my thing.

Word-count: 2k+

Summary: Grayson gathered up his courage and asked his Bumblebee to go to the prom with him, and ended up spending some private time at the beach.

T/W: a dash of smut (RLLY JUST A DASH)

Tags: @bingexdolan @grantsairforce @prettyboydolan @kyaaawritings @3ooda97 @baby-grayson @ryxgrantdolan @foxglovedolan @evergreendolan @goldenndolan @nikesbailey @soledadgray @sosweetgrethan @twinfinitydolan @333dolans

———————————————————————

“Hahah, so that’s what happened?,” A light giggle comes out of Bianca’s lips as she listens to Grayson speaking through the phone.

“Yeah! Like Isla tried to talk to me once again, but Ethan was like— ‘leave my brother alone’,” the other person talking with her replies, as a light chuckle escapes him. In fact, her giggle is lowkey contagious, it makes him laugh.

“Well, you do deserve someone better,” Bianca lips form into a smile, though she knows that he can’t see her smiling. It’s been 3 months since the night Grayson saved her from the abusive monster named Declan Hayes, and ever since that night where he promised her that he’d never leave, their bond grew even stronger than before. They haven’t said anything about making things official, but they’re definitely more than bestfriends. Everyone knows that.

“Fuck yes,” he replies briefly. Bianca remains silent as her mind wonders.

What if the better one for Grayson is her?

“Bianca?,” Grayson calls for her name, breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, just making sure you’re still up. Or are you falling asleep?,” he guesses. It’s not a secret for him that Bianca is a fast-sleeper. She falls asleep easily anywhere, anytime.

Bianca take a quick glance at the clock on her nightstand, with her hand rubbing her eye. It’s 2 minutes to 12 am, luckily tomorrow’s Saturday. “I’m still up, a little sleepy, though, but I’ll be fine,” she mumbles sleepily.

Grayson’s smiles grow a little wider as he listens to her sleepy voice. He knew it. His mind wanders, thinking about sleepy Bianca laying in her bed, struggling to keep her eyes open to talk to him. God, she’s the cutest.

Grayson glances over at Ethan, who’s laying on his bed with his phone in his hand, scrolling down through his messages to text Mabel, the girl that he has been talking to for the past 2 months. It’s obvious that Ethan’s so into her that he stays up late lately only to text her, or sometimes to talk to her through the phone. His other hand is grabbing 2 prom tickets, obviously for him and Mabel.

One crazy idea comes into his mind out of nowhere.

“B—Bianca?!,” Grayson pretends to stutter as he calls for the girl one more time. Bianca, who’s slowly falling asleep on the other line, quickly opens her eyes the moment Grayson calls her name.

“Gray? Are you okay?,” Bianca frowns.

It works. Grayson smiles to himself as he goes on with his own scenario.

“I—I need you to save me,” he tries to hold himself back from laughing. He can clearly picture her sitting on the edge of her bed, wondering about what’s happening with him.

“Grayson?”

“Bianca, s—save me...”

“Save you from what?”

“From...”

“From what?! Grayson, what’s happening?!,” Bianca nearly cries. He really got her good.

Feeling bad for scaring her, Grayson takes a deep breath, leaving her wondering in complete silence.

“Grayson are you there?!,” Bianca yells once again.

“I—I’m here, so... I—I need you to save me from...”

“Tell me,” she whispers, her voice is shaky.

“... Save me from going to the prom alone, Bumblebee, please? Will you?,” Grayson tries to speak in the calmest way as he can.

Another silence.

“... Fuck you, Gray. Fuck. You.” Grayson can hear her grunting on the other line. Hearing her grunts got him bursting into endless laughter.

“You scared me! The fuck, Grayson?,” a deep sigh comes out of Bianca’s lips as she throws herself back onto the mattress.

“Look, hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I mean it,” Grayson coos. He feels bad for giving her panic attack. “Bianca, baby, will you?,” he asks once again.

“Grayson, say sike right now,” Bianca sinks her teeth into ther lower lip, though deep inside, she thinks she’s about to melt.

“Bianca Reine, my Bumblebee, will you save me from going to the prom alone?,” he repeats once again.

“Grayson?,” this time, Bianca calls for his name.

“Yeah?,” he replies, pretty anxious about her reaction.

“You know— I don’t want to be rude, but prom isn’t really my thing...,” Bianca sighs once again.

“Oh...,” The smile on his face slowly fades away as he listens to her answer. “So, you’re not—“

“... unless I’m going with you, Grapeson,” Bianca quickly cuts him off, followed with a light giggle.

Grayson’s smile quickly makes its way back to his face, and even grows wider than before. “Now sleep, Bumblebee, I know you’re tired, and it’s late for you,” he says.

“You know me way too well sometimes,” Bianca yawns. “I’ll talk to you once I’m up, yeah?,” she tucks herself in as she speaks.

“Goodnight, Bumblebee,” Grayson whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Grapeson,” the sleepy girl replies.

Grayson waits for her to hung up in silence, but “night, Grapeson” isn’t the one that he gets. Instead of a goodnight, the only thing he gets in return is the sound of her soft snore. She fell asleep before she even got the chance to end the phone call.

“I love you, Bumblebee, I really do,” Grayson whispers once again, hoping his own sleeping beauty hears him in her sleep.

———————————————————————

“You look beautiful, Bumblebee. You really do,” for the millionth time, Grayson says it once again. His hand is rested on Bianca’s cheek as he keeps his gaze on hers, admiring the beauty sitting beside her.

There sits Bianca, wearing her light blue spaghetti strap mermaid dress, on the passenger seat of Grayson’s Porsche. Her dark locks that she usually ties into a messy bun, doesn’t make any appearance tonight. She got her hair waterfall-braided, which makes her looks completely different tonight.

Here they are sitting in Grayson’s Porsche, at the beach, once again. The place where they confessed their feelings for each other that night. They left the prom an hour ago, like— who cares about prom night as long as you got your favorite person with you?

Bianca’s cheeks turn pinkish as Grayson compliments her once again. Her hand makes its way up to the top of his head to toy with his short hair. “And Grapeson in a suit? You look so, um...,” Bianca pauses for a while, struggling to find the right word.

“Hot?,” Grayson teasingly whispers in her ear as a sly smirk comes across his lips.

Bianca spats his hand away from her cheek as she laughs. “Ew, Grapeson,” she shakes her head.

“What? You don’t want to admit it?,” he gives her a cute pout as he pretend to be sad.

“Okay, okay, maybe a bit,” Bianca squints her eyes as she replies, thinking about the possible reaction that he might give.

“A bit? You do know that your skill in lying is so damn bad, right?,” Grayson arches his brow just right before he starts to attack her face with soft kisses. Both of his arms are now wrapped around her waist to prevent her from escaping.

“Graaaaay, it tickes,” she tries to pull away, but Grayson notices her attempt that he tightens his arms around her. “Okay, okay, yeah, you’re hot, now let me go, please?,” she begs. So Grayson stops as soon as he gently pecks her lips as the final kiss.

“Can’t help myself, you look like an angel, Bumblebee,” he snickers, replied with a giggle from Bianca.

Grayson’s phone beeps, and he quickly pulls it out of his pocket to check for the notifications. It’s Ethan.

E: “bro, where ya at?”

G: “the beach”

E: “at what time did you leave? smh you didn’t tell me”

G: “an hour ago?? sorry, needa little time with my Bumblebee away from the crowd”

E: “‘my Bumblebee’? i see what you did there 👀”

G: “shut up”

“Gray?,” Bianca calls for his name.

“Yeah?,” Grayson quickly answers, but his fingers are still busy typing the message.

“Grayson?,” she calls once again. This time? Grayson puts his phone down to shift his attention back to her, but as soon as his gaze meets hers, his lips part into an o.

There sits Bianca, with her dress straps down, trying to reach her back to unzip her dress. “Can you help me with this?,” she looks up at him innocently.

“Bianca, w—what are you—“

“Um...,” she pauses, her cheeks are redder than before. “I heard that some people be— you know—,” she speaks nervously.

Grayson sinks his teeth into his lower lip to hold himself back from laughing as he tries his best to pay attention to her explanation.

“They have— y—you know—,” Bianca stutters once again.

“I thought you’re not ready for that? The last time that piece of shit asked you to do it with him, you cried, and you told me that you’re not even ready,” Grayson hums.

“No! No! It’s... different. Wait— you don’t want to?,” she frowns.

“I didn’t say that, I’m just making sure, Bumblebee. The last time we talked about this, you told me you ain’t ready,” he shakes his head. “Or maybe you want to save your virginity for marriage?,” he teases her once again.

“No, it’s just— I want this night to be remembered, Gray. I want it to be special, and—“

“Okay,” he quickly cuts her off as he takes his suit jacket off. Then his hands quickly move up to untie his tie, and throws it to the backseat.

Bianca bites her lower lip as she watches him doing so. In a quick motion, Grayson pulls her onto his lap, and rests both of his hands on each side of her waist.

God, he’s having an angel on his lap, and that angel is Bianca Reine; his Bumblebee.

Bianca awkwardly rests her palms on his cheeks, cupping them lovingly as she rests her forehead against his. Grayson emits a light chuckle as a reaction before he adds, “Bumblebee, it’s okay, it ain’t a fucking Biology exam, calm down, don’t be nervous.”

“J—just go slow, okay? Grayson, this is my fir—“

“Shh, hey,” Grayson coos as he takes her hand in his, gently drawing circular pattern on the back of her hand to calm her down. “I’d spend the rest of my night with you. Chill, we have a lot of time,” he whispers, just right before he attaches his lips onto the skin of her neck to nibble on it gently.

“G—Gray...,” a light moan escapes Bianca’s lips as she tilts her head aside for a bit to give him more access.

Grayson hums softly as his hands quickly makes their way to the back of her dress to unzip it. As soon as it’s completely unzipped, Bianca pushes it down until it reaches the level of her waist, leaving her upper body exposed to her bestfriend. Grayson continues to suck on the skin of her neck, but this time he moves his hands back to her fore part. He gently cups her breast as he continues to tease her.

“S—shit,” she whines. Grayson gently brushes the pad of his thumb across her perky nipple as he pulls away, to find her sitting on his lap with her upper body fully exposed.

“Jesus Christ, Bianca,” he mumbles. “You look so fucking perfect.”

“You think so?,” Bianca whispers, her hands making its way to his chest to unbutton his shirt.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about having you like this with me,” Grayson move his hands up to rest them on each side of her neck. “You have no idea, Bumblebee.”

“I trust you more than Declan, Gray. That’s why I’m yours tonight,” Bianca nods as she eagerly yanks his shirt off.

“You trust me?,” he smiles for a bit.

“I trust you, with everything that I have,” Bianca nods once again.

Grayson smiles and pulls her in to plant a passionate kiss onto her lips, and she eagerly returns the kiss. As soon as they break the kiss, Bianca glances down at him, with a thin smile on her lips.

“Make love to me, Grayson. I want this night to be remembered, forever.”

“Gladly, my Bumblebee.”

#grayson dolan #douche!gray #grayson blurb #grayson dolan fic #highschool!gray #tgabs'write #grayson dolan x oc

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

another request like they are caught in an heated argument the night she is scared from a thunderstorm sneak in his bed something like this thank you sweetie another thing can you please tag me when you post I tend to lose everything in the crowd Have a nice day ^^

this was so soft to write and I love it; I adore writing soft Wolfram things bc the man deserves it

apologies if any of the German is iffy! Google Translate has failed me before dfhdakjfjkl

The Emerald Castle is very much like Ciel’s manor back in England, but it is not home, and perhaps that’s why (Name) feels so disquieted by a simple storm.

She certainly doesn’t want to wake Ciel or Sieglinde, and when she peeks in on the other servants, they are all sleeping so soundly that she would feel too terrible for waking her friends. She doesn’t feel the slightest bit comfortable around Hilde, Grete, or Anne; surely they would think of her as an immature crybaby for being afraid of a little thunder. The last thing her young master needs is their current hosts thinking one of his maids is too sensitive.

So here she is, gently pushing open the door to WOLFRAM’s room to see if he’s awake at all. He’s the only one of the adult inhabitants who she trusts not to think less of her for her fear. The two of them were fighting earlier, impassioned and at each other’s throats over the way that (Name) was trying to straighten up a few things in the house, leading to them avoiding each other forthe rest of the night. The thought makes her wince as she considers that he might not want to see her after that.

Still she presses on, her footsteps light as she takes a step into the room. “…Wolfram?” she whispers into the darkness.

A groan comes from the general direction of the bed, combined with (from what she can see) the covers shifting.

The thunder seems to be rumbling low and steady enough to shake the whole castle as she comes closer toward the bed. One hand shuts the door nearly all the way behind her, and the other hand holds her robe closed. Her heart is pounding with anxiety. She silently sits down on the bed before lifting the covers and crawling under them.

“Mmmf…” When Wolfram moves again, this time they’re suddenly face to face.Though his eyes widen, it’s very clear that he’s still only half awake and doesn’t really understand what’s going on right now. “Was ist los…?”

(Name) curls inward, still worried that he might be upset with her from earlier tonight. “It’s just me, Wolfram. (Name).”

He offers a groggy sigh in response. “Was machst du jetzt hier?” he mumbles, blinking slowly as if he’s ready to fall back asleep any second. He’s also so obviously tired that he can’t bother with speaking English, though his mind seems to translate it just fine. This is actually very cute, and if she weren’t so terrified right now, she might appreciate it more. “Es ist so spät.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I-I just―”

Another crack of thunder, followed a few seconds later by a flash of lightning outside the window, rattles the room. A yelp leaves her, and she yanks the blankets over her head.

As sleepy as Wolfram is, this seems to get the message across rather quickly. “Mmmh… du has Angst vor dem Sturm?” The question is followed by a stifled yawn. If he remembers their argument at all, he’s not mentioning it. He’s acting like the whole thing didn’t even happen.

“Y… yes… I-I’m sorry…”

He lets his eyes drift closed. “Nein, es ist in Ordnung.” His hand clumsily pats the part of the bed near her legs. “Wollen Sie hier bleiben? Willst du hier schlafen?”

After a moment, (Name) pulls the covers back down. “Yes… please… i-is that okay?”

“Ja, es ist gut.” He yawns again, seeming to settle.

Everything is quiet for a few minutes aside from the rain outside. Finally, she speaks up again, softly, “Wolfram? Are you still awake?”

“Mmh, ja?”

Shyly, she reaches her hand over and gives a gentle pat to his. “Es tut mir leid wegen früher.”

He stops her from drawing back, instead lightly curling his fingers around hers. “Es tut mir auch leid. Mach dir keine Sorgen.” A sleepy smile is thrown her way, accompanied by his eyes opening just for a second to look at her. “Alles ist gut.”

Rather than pull her hand out of his grip as would be well within her rights, she keeps it where it is. This is… nice. Holding hands with him like this makes her feel a little calmer. “Thank you.”

“Mhm. Bekommen jetzt etwas schalfen.”

“You, too.” When she closes her eyes, the thunder is still rolling outside, the rain still hitting the windowpane, but the comfort of Wolfram’s hand is also still there.

He’s right. At least for now, all is well.

#queengiuliettafirstlady #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Wolfram #scenario #romantic #drama #domestic #hurt/comfort #ahhhhhh me heart #queued

[dolphin-enthusiast]

lovely evening, my beloved morgane! 🌹💖🌛💌 are you doing alright darling?? i saw you got some work done today, good for you!! even if it's such little things like answering asks, or writing headcannons, i'm always so happy and proud of you!! i do wish that you have been eating and sleeping well lately (and relaxing of course!) meanwhile, i wasn't as productive as i would've liked to be 😅 (1/9)

"my narcolepsy really flared up, so i woke up about halfway through the entire day! ahhh i was so upset about that!! but, nothing a cup of tea and scrolling your page couldn't fix 😉 and in all serious, you all flatter me too much!! i assure you that i'm far from a goddess or princess or anything so ethereal, as much as i'd love to be hehehe! oh my, you all are too good to me as always, i don't deserve all of that kindness 💕 (2/9)

and i must say, those vegas au picrews were so wonderful!!! i love all the little details included, not to mention that you look absolutely stunning morgy dear!! 🥰 oh, and that ace attorney au sounds so cute! i can't help but smile when i think about it ❤ (3/9)

despite waking up so late, i did do my daily check up with the garden and the bunnies, and they seemed happy to see me! i also had to go food shopping for my parents, which almost went awry actually,, i was trying to get some plums and pomelos when i started feeling really lightheaded... and i almost passed out 😖 (4/9)

i think it happened because of both the narcolepsy and how hot it was,, though it was embarrassing watching people crowd around me, but luckily, this nice woman took me to the break room and got me a water, she was so kind and understanding! i'm glad i didn't lose consciousness, but the staff decided to give me my groceries for free, so that was nice!! (5/9)

awaaa,, narcolepsy is very frustrating to live with! especially when catatonic episodes come on, then i can't move! despite all of the annoying and (sometimes) dangerous symptoms, lots of people tell me it gives me character?? (6/9)

i don't really understand that, but apparently many people say it's cute haha, my family even nicknamed it my "ragdoll mode" normally, i'm forced to have people accompany me when i go out in case of situations like this,, since my family and friends were taught to catch me/carry me in case of these flare-ups.. i guess i just wanted a little me time hehehe ✨ (7/9)

despite all of that craziness, i did get to play minecraft with the one and only gundhanon! i figured out how to set up crossplay, and had a lovely time! (i even got to visit the dip court 😖❤ oooh, that reminds me of when all of the anons spammed me with "play minecraft with morgane!!" asks, i guess that's another thing on the list? 😘 (8/9)

my my,, it's extremely late now, i should get going!! well then, until tomorrow love, take care of yourself for me~!! 💞💞💞 - much much much love, the very sleepy waifu 💗💗💗💗💗💗 ps: hmm.. maybe we can get drunk together someday hehe~ 💓 (9/9)"

It really does sound like narcolepsy is one hell of a bitch darling but they arent wrong it somehow? Gives u character?? Like it just makes u special in a way ig jeehhd (idk how to words) and i have to admit it IS oddly cute....ngl i'd gladly watch over u and catch u whenever the ragdoll mode kicked in-

B u t i also gotta tell u once again that not being fully productive isnt a sin (also dont even get me started i literally wake up at noon bc i dont sleep at night lmao)...i myself slacked off a little the past days and my dumbass needs to not only finish haikyuu but also draw and write (other than on this blog) more....n e w a y s im impressed to hear that gundhanon played mc with u ksxhhxd it must be an h o n o r to visit the mighty dip court👁️👁️

And obvs u deserve all the compliments darling i mean hell i have never heard of someone like u before who literally has hoards of animals come to her on a daily basis and who overall radiates chaotic angel energy😳😳😳

#also chaotic drunk night w lots of v i b i n g and maybe marathoning shows and playing videogames? y e s #the confessional

[nnegan13]

can you write a fic about Ele telling Edo the backstory of her tattoos like while cuddling in bed?

hi! thank you for the absolute softest prompt ever. literally was melting the entire time I was writing it. 

on ao3 

rest is under the cut! again, I would advise not to read on mobile bc the formatting gets fucked up but like, its ur funeral lmao 

— 

MONDAY 30 MARCH23:14 ELEONORA’S BEDROOM, SAVA’S APARTMENT 

Eleonora ignores the pathetic whine that comes from her naked, stupid boyfriend on the other side of the bed as she swings her legs off the mattress, his large hand slipping over the bend of her hip but finding no purchase as she turns on her bedside lamp and stands up. She looks over at him, eyebrows raised. Edoardo pouts and she stoops down to pick up his discarded T-shirt so he doesn’t see her smile. 

He’s been too pleased with himself tonight. Not that she minds, or anything, but it’s still fun to tease him.

Another whine escapes him. “Where are you going?” 

Pulling the shirt on over her head, she stops at her dresser to slip on a clean pair of underwear and shoots him a little smirk over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway. A low grumble and an obnoxious amount rustling reaches her ears; he must’ve burrowed into the blankets. The image makes her smile.  

Despite the tightly shut windows, a late March chill fills the apartment and goosebumps erupt across her skin. Maybe she should’ve put on pants. 

After she pads down the hall and finishes in the bathroom, she makes her way to the kitchen to pick over the remnants of their dinner from a few hours ago; the rumbling in her stomach is too loud to ignore.  

Edoardo appears in the doorway of the dining room, clad in a pair of sweatpants, as she exits the kitchen, hall-full bowl of pasta in hand and half a mind to go check on her plants outside. It’s starting to warm up, even just a degree or two, and she wants to see how soon she can move the less winter-friendly plants back out into the sun. 

He must be able to what she’s thinking in the distracted way she chews and darts her eyes around the dining room because he catches her around the waist before she can make it back to her room and climb out to the veranda. The knowing look on his face makes her chest warm. Even doing long-distance, he knows her almost as well as she knows herself. “It’s almost midnight.” 

“Mm,” she hums in lieu of a better answer. It’s nonsensical to check, she knows—she was the one who told him so when the idea first popped into her head the night his flight got in—but it takes up an itchy amount of space in the back of her brain.

“You can always check in the morning.” 

“Or,” she muses, turning her gaze from the hallway to Edoardo’s mildly exasperated face and offering him a forkful of her food, schooling her own expression into one of mock innocence, “I could check now.” 

Before he can voice more protests, she shoves the fork into his opening mouth and takes off toward her room, giggling as he swipes at her arm. She can picture him standing there in the maw of the hallway: fork protruding from his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and hands opening and closing like they want to grab at something soft—her waist, no doubt, and the thought makes her smile even in her late night induced single-mindedness. 

Once she makes it into her room, she abandons the bowl of pasta on her desk and climbs through her window onto the veranda, ignoring how the chill outside is much worse than in the apartment—she really should’ve put on pants—and dutifully wandering the deck to check her various pots and plants. Inside, she hears Edoardo shut her bedroom door and collapse onto the mattress. 

After poking and prodding her plants long enough that the cold has seeped through her muscles down to her bones, she scurries back inside, shutting the window firmly behind herself and plopping her cold body directly on top of Edoardo amidst his squirming and quiet, humorous complaining. Even as he mutters how obscenely cold and cruel she is for doing this, he wraps his arms around her huddled form. 

She scoots around his chest until she hears his heartbeat firm and steady underneath her ear. Body heat radiating into her, he kisses the top of her head and tightens his hold as a happy sigh escapes her. 

When he speaks, she thinks she might be dreaming. Especially because he’s got her arm pulled away from her ball of a body and is inspecting her wrist like it’s entirely new to him. He’s so gentle, though, that Eleonora doesn’t even notice he’s manhandled her—to put it frankly—until he says, “Who’s Lulu?” 

Blinking, she tilts her head up to look at him. “What?”

“Your tattoo.” He lets her pull her arm back to her person, and she stares at the black words inked onto the inside of her wrist like she’s never seen them before. The late hour combined with his intoxicating body heat makes her brain slower than normal. “Who’s Lulu?” 

“A little cousin of mine,” she says after a long moment, slithering off him to pull the blankets over both of them. Once they’re covered, she lays back on his chest. He’s propped himself up on a pillow, now, and she rests her chin on her folded hands atop his chest.  The steady rise and fall of his breathing lulls her back to the brink of sleep and she resists with her best effort. It’s difficult, but she manages. 

They’re having a conversation; she can’t exactly fall asleep on him.  

Edoardo reaches down until he finds the hem of his shirt she has on and slips his hand underneath, starts tracing his nails on her skin. She closes her eyes as they roll, mild pleasure flickering through her. 

Eventually, Eleonora forces her eyes open again and finds him watching her. Lulu is a heavy subject, one she isn’t sure is appropriate for the light fun that she’s had a hand in supplying for Edoardo’s spring break, but talking to one another, telling each other things when it feels right, has always been something they’ve tried to do. 

The words slip out with an ease that’s grown over the past year, with Filippo, with Eva and the girls, and with Edoardo, most of all. “She passed away when I was younger, probably eight or nine. All my older cousins got a tattoo of her name and Filo took me when I was old enough.” 

“Were you guys close?” His voice rumbles in his chest, vibrating into her person; it’s a true effort to stay awake. 

“I mean, she was just a toddler,” she murmurs. On his face, his expression morphs from one of sleepy interest to sleepy concern and his hand flattens against her back, thumb rubbing slow against her skin. There’s not much to comfort her about; it happened a long time ago, but she appreciates it all the same. “Had a heart defect and got really sick. I don’t really remember much about it, but we would go see her all the time before it all happened.” 

For a moment, they stare at one another, her words hanging in the air between them. She rises and falls with his chest, his thumb continues to sweep against her skin, and a microscopic part of her heart breaks again. Then she shifts off her hands and presses her mouth to his chest, her shoulders relaxing as she moves. 

When she pulls back, he cups her cheek with his other hand and draws her face to his, kissing her twice, gentle motions more for reassurance and affection than anything else. Her chest warms, and she settles back into her previous position. 

“What about the others?” 

“The other what?” 

“Tattoos.” 

“Mm.” Edoardo studies her with those deep brown eyes of his, fingers tracing aimless patterns once more, and Eleonora try to decide where to start. “What do you want to know?” 

Shrugging, he pulls her off his chest and helps her tuck into his side. Once she settles, her head pressed into the crook of his shoulder, his arm curled around her, and his hand under her shirt resting against her stomach just above her hip, he takes her forearm and exposes the inside to the soft lamplight illuminating the room. “You don’t grow any sunflowers.” 

When he traces a fingernail along the edge of the sunflower inked on her skin, she shivers. “What an observant person you are.”

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” she says, peeking up at him and grinning when he rolls his eyes a little. 

“Why’d you get a tattoo of one if you don’t grow them?” 

As she contemplates for a moment, pursing her lips, he goes back to studying her tattoo, tracing the lines and maneuvering her arm around to see better. She’s not embarrassed, but still thinks it’s true: “You’re gonna think it’s stupid.” 

“I don’t think anything you do is stupid.” 

“Mm.” Watching him makes her smile. “Okay, sure.” 

“Remember, I’m not the one who thinks the other is stupid in this relationship.” 

She props herself up on her elbow to properly glare at him. He grins, self-assured, back at her. “Hey.” 

Squeezing her waist, he says, “C’mon, tell me.” 

“Fine.” She purses her lips and thinks about sixteen-year-old Eleonora’s reasoning behind the multitude of tattoos she got amidst her change in schools. They’re still things she wholeheartedly believes, but sixteen-year-olds aren’t the most eloquent people on the planet, so everything is choppy and awkward in her head. “Don’t laugh.” 

A sweet smile cracks onto his face. He looks excited at the prospect of learning about her tattoos and it makes her grin. “I promise.” 

“Have you ever heard of heliotropism?” He shakes his head. “Certain flowers do it. They track the movement of the sun during the day because the light reactions help with pollination, or internal temperature, or is part of their circadian motion.” 

“And sunflowers do heliotropism?” 

“No, actually.” 

“How misleading.” 

Eleonora gives him a pointed look that he grins at before continuing. “Sunflower buds will do it when they’re developing, but once the flower is fully mature it stays facing east.” 

“And there’s a metaphor, somewhere.” 

Automatically, she says, “No,” even though he’s right. 

It’s Edoardo’s turn to give a pointed look, eyebrows raising and mouth twitching, and she relents. “Fine, there’s a metaphor, but I didn’t know the specifics of heliotropism when I got my tattoo like I do now, so it doesn’t really work all that much anymore.” 

She sinks back down into him, his arm curving around her shoulder again as she situates herself against his side. “I always focused on what other people thought of me at my old school: what my friends thought of me, what my ex thought of me, if I was pretty enough or skinny enough or small enough. And my grades slipped, I stopped eating, I stopped hanging out with people, it was just—it was bad. 

“It got worse when everything happened with my ex. I wound up in the hospital for a little while.” It hits her that she’s saying these things out loud; she’s saying these things to an actual person—to Edoardo—not just to herself. For a moment, her pulse spikes and her stomach turns and her muscles tighten, like they want her to ball up on herself, but he smooths his thumb across her hip and kisses her hairline and she remembers that he’s already seen her lows, he already knows a good chunk of the hurt she’s been though—he was there, after all—and she takes a deep breath. Looks at him. Tries not to blush or smile or do something stupid when the only thing she can read on his face is deep-rooted concern. “I transferred a couple weeks after that.”

Edoardo says nothing, still, which she appreciates. 

“I started gardening when I got out of the hospital,” Eleonora says, a wistful smile forming on her face as she thinks of her crude attempts at keeping her mother’s deck plants alive. “And Filo wanted me to put a giant pot of sunflowers in the corner of the deck because he thought everything was too green. I told him we couldn’t put them in the corner because they have to track the sun to survive and out of nowhere he said that I was like them, that I cared about people’s opinions so much that it would kill me. Then we were yelling and I was crying and he was telling me I needed to focus on something else or I would die.” 

She snorts. “He’s so dramatic.” 

Edoardo’s hand flexes against her waist and she looks up at him. He’s not frowning, looks rather contemplative, actually, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. You did end up in the hospital.” 

Pressure builds up behind her eyes as he speaks. It’s weird, hearing another person say she was in the hospital, especially when he’s so close to her—it makes it all feel very, very real again. The need to snark back, keep herself from crying, turn this serious moment into something they can laugh at instead, wells up inside her, but she pushes it aside. She wants to be honest with Edoardo, and not just with her words. 

“Okay,” her voice is thick and she doesn’t actually start crying, but he presses his lips to her forehead just the same. “Maybe you’re right.” 

“Not a maybe,” he mumbles against her skin.

The hand that was holding her arm up for his inspection of her tattoo slips down her wrist and grasps hers, squeezing softly. She takes another deep breath. 

“Filo gets all his tattoos to remind himself of things. He thought we could do the same—that I could do the same—so he took me to the parlor he got his done at,” she says. “I was still crying and Filo didn’t know what to do, so he just apologized to the artist once we got inside. And he had decided in the car that I would get a sunflower and what it would remind me of and then I got it.” 

“Filo decided on the metaphor, then?” 

“Yeah. Well—we did, together.” This is the part that’s corny and cheesy and all too fitting of a sixteen-year-old even if the sentiment holds true. She sighs and looks at Edoardo. The brush of his thumb against her hip helps with the nervous flips of her stomach. “The sunflower focuses on the sun to survive, and I should focus on myself to survive.” 

For a moment, he says nothing, just studying her face with the corners of his lips gradually turning up and it’s only this that lets her know that he heard her, that her voice didn’t fade into the darkness engulfing everything outside her bedroom. 

He curls their bodies together, pulling her up into him with the arm tucked around her back and his neck bending and body curving until his lips press into her forehead and the space between them shrinks into a tiny width she could close in a minuscule movement. Their legs tangle together under the blankets. Once he’s situated his other arm across her waist, he draws his mouth a hairsbreadth away from her skin and mumbles, “So you’re the sun and the sunflower in this situation?” 

“Yes,” she says, closing her eyes, and adds after a beat, “Asshole.” 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest and out of his mouth against her forehead and the warm, sleepy feeling descends upon her again. The light’s still on, her brain reminds her, but Edoardo exudes heat and his skin is soft, and she loves laying here and talking with him, even if that talking will soon dwindle into sleep, and so she can’t be bothered to turn the lamp off. 

“I don’t think it’s stupid, Ele,” he murmurs as she fits her head under his chin. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She doesn’t think it’s stupid, either, but it’s nice that he agrees. 

— 

TUESDAY 31 MARCH 14:22 LIVING ROOM, EDOARDO’S HOUSE  

“What about the spider?” For such a dangerous question, his tone is entirely blasé. 

Eleonora pauses mid-stride and scans the floor and walls around her. Not a spider in sight. Scrunching her eyebrows, she looks back at Edoardo’s wiry frame sprawled out on the couch, his deep brown eyes following her as she returns from the kitchen. A lazy grin tugs at his mouth. If she wasn’t preoccupied with other matters (read: spiders) she might’ve smiled, entertained a few ideas that popped into her mind as he laid there, committed to one and climbed on top of him, but she is preoccupied. “There’s a spider?” 

When it comes to spiders, she doesn’t have an opinion one way or the other, but a confused half-smile spreads on his face, he props himself up on an elbow, and he says, “Yeah, the one on your arm,” with a tone and matching expression that would be cute if he was saying anything else, and she thinks she might have a heart attack. 

“On my arm?” 

Immediately, her heart rate spikes and adrenaline floods her system and she flails her arms around, starts batting at herself to get the alleged spider off her person. If she makes a few inhuman sounds during her brief panic, that’s her problem, not anyone else’s. 

There’s a spider on her arm—on her fucking arm—for fuck’s sake. 

“Is it off? Is it off? Get it off!”

Edoardo’s half-grin turns into an amused grimace and suddenly he’s there across the room to where she’s backed up in her panic, grabbing her thrashing wrists and saying, “Ele, Ele—”

“Don’t fucking—”

“The tattoo! I meant your tattoo.” 

Mouth open, chest heaving, eye widening, she stares at him long enough that his grimace turns back into a little grin. Is he fucking kidding right now? Then his expression turns sheepish as she glares and he shrugs. “We fell asleep before we finished talking last night.” 

A beat passes, then—“You’re so stupid!” 

Once she’s ripped a hand from his grip, she shoves against his chest. There’s not enough heat behind her words for them to stick or force behind her hand for it to hurt, and he looks adorable when he tilts his head like that. Against her will, the corners of her mouth turn up even as she keeps glaring and Edoardo loops his free arm around her waist and draws her into his side. All the while, she keeps shoving against him, tries to force down the part of her that finds the whole thing funny, too. He’s being dumb, she reminds herself, and she’s irritated, but she recognizes the look on his face, the angle of his brow and the twitch of his lips; if there’s one thing she’s a sucker for it’s—“No, no! You don’t get to kiss your way out of this!” 

Already, he’s peppering her face with his mouth, little sweet kisses on her forehead, along her brow-line, down her temple, even as she wriggles in his hold. 

He uses them to punctuate his words: “I don’t—” one on her cheekbone, “—know what—” two on either side of her nose, “—you’re talking—” one by the corner of her eye that forces a smile to her lips, another on her other cheekbone, “—about.” 

He’s made it to the edge of her face, now, and starts pressing tiny kisses from the top of her ear to the corner of her jaw. When she tries to pull away, he laughs a little and holds her tighter, even as she walks her hips, her legs, away from his body. He follows her, kissing diligently at her skin and using the hand still clasped in his to navigate her body back toward him, and she tries to keep her expression neutral, her tone neutral. Tries. “Fucking—liar.” 

“Mm—” Eleonora frowns, but the kisses—slower, now, open-mouthed and edging toward fervent—down her cheek and to her jaw have her lips twitching upwards. His mouth is intoxicating, she decides as her skin heats and her feet stumble. He hasn’t even made his way to her lips, yet, given her a proper kiss that would warrant her mind i wandering, her resolve wavering, her efforts to escape lessening. Damn him. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” She musters a little heat now. He’s so nonchalant, and she’s—worked up in more ways than one. “You’re so—”

“Funny?” More heavy kisses along her jawline, he releases her other wrist and uses his second arm to pull her back into his chest. “Handsome? Wonderful?” 

“Annoying!” It’s an effort to get that same heat she just had into her words, but she’s successful, even against his mind-numbing, blood boiling barrage. Her skin tingles wherever he touches her—his hands on her waist, their legs brushing against one another, and his damn mouth on her neck—every touch zinging up her spine to her brain; she’s so, so warm, and he’s everywhere. 

“Ah, yes, this is exactly what I wanted from my spring break.” The kisses along her jaw and under her chin paired with the brief tease of his teeth against her pulse point undermine his statement, as does the humor in his tone and the smile she feels against her skin. That’s what gets her, she thinks, his fucking smile. “To have my girlfriend call me annoying.”

He’s enjoying this and knows, even if she tries to say otherwise, that she is, too. 

“Mm,” she hums, the hand that should shove against his chest slipping up to grip his shoulder as he continues to tease his mouth along her skin. At her waist, his hands flex, thumbs kneading into her skin, rolling into the tension in her muscles. It’s an effort not to let a moan escape her. Eye closing and mouth stuttering a little, she gasps. “Glad I, um—lived up to your—ah, your expectations.” 

He steps them backwards toward the couch, his hands continuing to flex and squeeze against her waist and a chuckle rumbling in his chest when—despite her best efforts—an embarrassing noise falls from her lips. Teeth grazing her collarbone, he sucks hard enough against the same spot that she’s sure there will be a bruise. She clutches his shoulders as her knees grow weaker and weaker; damn him and his stupid, maddening mouth. It pops off her skin with a wet noise and when he pulls back, she opens her eyes. 

Where the fuck does he think he’s going?  

The tiniest of smirks spreads on his lips and her chest heaves against his; he laughs as she manages a soft glare. “Oh, you surpassed every one of them.” 

“I’m so glad.” Voice weak but pointed, it doesn’t take much effort for him to walk them the rest of the way to the couch he previously occupied, mouth returned to nibbling on her neck, sliding one large, warm hand up to cup the bottom of her shoulder blade and the other down just low enough that she starts to get ideas. She isn’t sure how, but he draws her closer and closer, even though they’re as close together as she thinks they possible can be, and her jaw shudders up and down as he licks a stripe up the side of her neck. She’s embarrassed to feel lightheaded at the whole thing—she hasn’t even kissed him once—but then his mouth makes its way back up to the corner of her jaw and he pulls her earlobe through his teeth and her eyes roll. She shudders, pulling the fabric of his sweater between the fingers of one hand and gripping harder to his shoulder with the other. “Leave a—a good review for me on, uh, girlfriend Yelp.” 

“Girlfriend Yelp?” Incredulity colors his tone like a heady flush colors her face. If she had planned to use her witticism to distract him long enough for her to escape—like she probably should have—or started her own opened-mouth, tongue-included, mind-blowing kissing barrage against him in revenge, she’d be sorely disappointed. Even in his disbelief he doesn’t let up, lips, tongue, and teeth making their way across her jaw, under her chin, and to the other side of her face. Blood pumping, knees shaking, hands balling into weak fists against his chest, Eleonora can’t help the noise that slips out of her mouth as he starts the whole process over on this new, untouched, unattended side of her neck. 

Skin hot and tingling, with enough ease that he can guide them toward the couch, he drives her oversensitivity up the wall. 

That’d be nice, she thinks as he does something truly wicked that makes her knees buckle, to be pressed against a wall. Or to press him against a wall. Her hands slide off his shoulders and fist in his sweater, feeling the hard plane of his chest through the fabric, with half a mind to do just that, but it’s almost like he can tell what’s circling in her thoughts. 

He sucks this other earlobe into his mouth and laughs—fucking laughs—when she groans. 

When the back of his legs hit the couch and their momentum stops, her entire body seems to sag against his and, try as she might to move her hands to pull his face to hers so he could fucking kiss her or something crazy like that, she can’t; he overwhelms her entire nervous system. He sucks on her pulse point again and she thinks she might start convulsing. She remembers, now, that he’s making fun of her for being nonsensical thanks to his stupid, mind fogging neck kisses, and pants, “Trying to be funny—or, or something.” 

“Mm?” That hum sounds entirely too pleased. 

“Yeah—yeah.” The hands at her waist slip just a little further down her body and she gets her own hands to move as well, but all they seem capable of doing is gripping his shoulders and sliding into his hair, pulling it between her fingers. At this, his own little moan vibrates from his chest out of his mouth and into her skin. It feels so good—too good—but it gets him to detach his lips from her neck and she gets a moment of clarity. 

She’s supposed to be yelling at him for being a little asshole right now. 

Just as she realizes, his arms band a little tighter around her, he pulls her up onto her toes, and presses his lips back into her skin, muttering, “Well, I hope I get an equally good review on boyfriend Yelp.” 

Her moment of clarity disappears and goosebumps burst along her skin, up the back of her neck, and all over her scalp. She tries not to shiver too hard, one hand fisting in his hair again and the other squeezing his shoulder. 

And finally, blissfully, maddeningly, Edoardo shifts his mouth from her neck onto her lips and she whimpers, tension leaking from her body. Their progression to sit on the couch pauses for several long seconds. These kisses are slow, sensual, mouths sliding hot against each other, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip. When she tugs on his hair, his mouth opens in a slight gasp before she licks into his mouth with a laugh. 

After enough time passes that she can’t tell whose breath is whose anymore, Edoardo pulls his mouth from hers, pressing their foreheads together and eliciting a whine from deep in Eleonora’s diaphragm. Laughing, he braces his hands at her waist and sinks into the couch, pressing singular kisses to her lips as she bends to follow him. 

Once he settles, she lowers herself onto the cushions, first one knee and then the other on either side of his hips, and slides her mouth over his again; her hands cup his cheeks and he tilts his face up to her. As she takes her time kissing him into as much senselessness as he had done to her, he palms the back of her thighs, heat warming her skin as he trails them up her ass to the top of her shorts. His fingers slip into the waistband and her shirt comes untucked. She shivers, his hands slipping under the fabric, nails tracing over her skin as his hands move up and up, from the small of her back around to her ribs, up her sides. She sinks into his lap, her shirt rucking up and exposing her heated skin to the cool air of his living room. A gasp slips from her lips into his—

Edoardo draws back, chest heaving, and her mind registers the smug, excited smile spreading on that mouth that she should be kissing but isn’t anymore. What the fuck is he—

One of his hands drops lower on her waist, thumb pressing against her skin over and over as if to say hey, don’t worry, we’ll be getting back to this in a moment. The other pulls her shirt further up her side until his fingers run along the waistband of her bra and the skin underneath. He ducks his head out of the gentle hold she has on him, and for a hopeful moment she thinks he has other ideas, but his mouth doesn’t latch onto her ribs. No, he just stares at her skin, fingers ghosting a hair below the waistband. Eleonora frowns. “Edo.” 

“Hm?” 

She leans back, taking a hold of her shirt so she can see whatever he’s looking at, and glares as their eyes meet. It’s the fucking fast forward symbol tattooed on her ribs right in front of his face. “Really?”  

He leans back into the couch as she drops her shirt. It pools over his wrist, his hand still cupping her ribs underneath her bra, and she folds her arms over her chest. “We never finished talking about them.” 

“And so you asked about the spider.” A nod. “And scared the shit out of me.” 

A smirk slides onto his face. He intertwines his hands together at the small of her back and pulls her closer to him. “Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” She raises an eyebrow, her earlier annoyance flaring up and down as she studies his damn face, contemplates the fact that he used a known weakness of hers—fucking kissing, it’s so distracting—to get her to talk about her tattoos again. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. “Don’t lie.” 

“Okay.” Another tug closer. She braces her hands against his chest to keep her balance and the corners of his mouth twitch up. 

“Okay.” She sits back in his lap but it does little to put more space between them, even though that’s what she needs to keep from giving in again. “And you had the perfect opportunity to ask me about them again, but you kissed me instead.” 

“You brought kissing up first.” 

“Mm, don’t turn this on me.” She pokes his chest. “You are the only one at fault.” 

He nods, his hands slipping from one another. One presses flat against her back and the other opens and closes into a loose fist against her skin, light scratching. He’s doing it again, trying to distract her from her mild annoyance, and he knows it’s working, like she knows how to get him worked up, too—skin heated, mind dizzy, too aroused for public decency but not so much as to be cruel—even when she’s not in the mood for anything more. He’s playing her at her own game. The problem is: it’s working. 

She tries not to smile. The game, she knows he enjoys it even if the outcome is mildly infuriating for him; she just can’t believe that it’s the same now that the tables are turned: even if she’s annoyed, there’s a thrill underlying it all.  

“Okay, I take all the blame,” he says, grinning. “What does this one mean?” 

He’s going to love this: “Nothing.” 

“Nothing.” His grin slips from his face. She presses her lips together to keep from laughing. “You’re serious.” 

She nods. “As serious as I’ve ever been.” 

A pout replaces his grin, and he shakes his head. “I can’t believe—”

“Hey!” She shoves at his chest. “Not every tattoo has to have a super deep meaning.” 

“Mm, okay, why’d you get it then?” 

“I think rib tattoos look really cool.”  

“Ele—” she doesn’t let him get much farther, cupping his face and surging forward, foregoing her internal debate about the morality of their game in favor of using it to distract him once more. She slides her mouth over his and laughs at the surprised sound he makes. His hands flatten against her back, pulling her torso flush against his, and her hair falls like a curtain around their faces. After a moment full of his mouth and his tongue and his breath mingling with hers, she slips a hand into his curls and tugs just hard enough. 

Plus, she thinks as his mouth opens underneath hers and he bites her bottom lip, they both like the game. Her tattoos can wait. 

— 

FRIDAY APRIL 3 16:33 DOCKS, FIUMICINO 

“Okay,” he starts, drawing her attention from the glint of the sun off the waves to his face where he lays with his head in her lap. He’s got his eyebrows raised. “Just to preface: I’m not asking about an actual spider this time.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Eleonora says, looking away, but smiles when he laughs something sharp and bright. When she pointedly keeps her gaze locked on a passing boat in the distance, he tugs on her shirt until she relents. “What?” 

“Hey.” Edoardo’s voice is soft and sweet, now, sensitive to her annoyance but still amused, if only a little, by her reaction. Earnestness shades his eyes. “Will you tell me why you got the spider tattoo?” 

For a moment, she watches him, studies his eyes, the way the sunlight glints off their glossy surface and turns his irises into a backlit brown, like coffee or cola. His hand encircles the wrist she rests on his sternum and one corner of his mouth pulls up. The smile that blooms when she nods is bright like the sun. Her chest warms. 

“It was Filo’s idea again.” 

His laugh echoes off the water. “Really?” 

“Mm.” 

“Do you have any tattoos that weren’t his idea?” 

“The fast forward,” she says, pinching his chest and raising her eyebrows when a playful wince scrunches up his face. “And you seemed pretty interested in that one the other day.” 

“Well, what piques my interest piques my interest.” 

“Piques? Is Cornell expanding your vocabulary, or something?” Her other hand drifts into his hair, winds a curl or two around her index finger. His smile makes her chest warm further. “I thought you were there for business: finance and accounting and math.” 

“I’m interdisciplinary.” 

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” 

He snorts a little, and covers his eyes with the back of his wrist. “C’mon, tell me.” 

“Okay.” She presses her lips together and draws her hand from his hair so she can lean back on it. From the moment the topic of tattoos came up, Eleonora knew they’d be delving into rough terrain, so to speak. A lot of things have happened to her and the tattoos have been—therapeutic, if nothing else. They’ve covered heavy stuff, stuff she’s been scared to talk about with most people before, but he’s still here with her, still sleeping in her bed, still laying with his head in her lap, still waiting to hear every word that comes out of her mouth. 

What’s a little more weight, then? 

“Nymphomaniac wasn’t the only thing I was called at my old school,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper. “It was mostly your typical slut-shaming rhetoric, but everyone’s favorite seemed to be ‘man-eater.’” 

His voice hints at derision, low and rough, and his jaw clenches as he mutters, “What a title.” 

“I know, right?” 

A beat passes. They listen to the waves lapping at the docks and crashing against the sea, the wind whistling at a low pitch, each other’s breathing. Edoardo’s hand doesn’t tighten or loosen against her wrist, but rather his hand shifts to cover millimeters more of her skin, to offer his presence. Tension she wasn’t aware of drains from her shoulders. 

“And the most famous man-eater is the black widow. Filo said I should get a tattoo of one, reclaim the term. Give an actual reason to be called it, besides rumors that weren’t true.” She shrugs, even though Edoardo’s hand still covers his eyes. “So I did.” 

Several moments pass and she turns her face up to the sun, closing her eyes. That warmth in her chest doesn’t disappear as she talks about her tattoo, rather spreads as the sun falls on her skin, and soon her entire body is pleasantly warm. Filippo was clever when he came up with the idea, she thinks, her lips twitching up, and it’s fun to tell someone else about it. 

Edoardo hums and she looks back down at him. He’s pulled his arm off his face and watches her with a contemplative expression, like he’s trying to decide how to feel: angry on her behalf, or amused by Filippo like she is, or maybe even indifferent. It happened then and now it doesn’t anymore. Not much to do. She doesn’t figure out what he chooses, he speaks too soon: “Can I see it?” 

Shrugging off her jacket, she braces herself against the early April chill and rucks up the sleeve covering her tattoo before twisting her arm and showing it to him. His hands are gentle when they grasp her arm, one steadying her wrist and the other beneath her elbow. Unlike the air around them, his hand is warm and helps maintain the contented feeling grown in her chest, spread down her limbs, along her bones. She smiles while he studies it closely, his head lifting slightly from her lap to peer closer. 

Once he’s done, he lays back in her lap, the fingers at her wrist slipping down to hold her hand. The other settles on his stomach and she relaxes her arm so their clasped hands rests against his sternum above his heart. “Mm, I like it.” 

Eleonora smiles. “I’m glad.” 

He closes his eyes against the sun again and for a few minutes, they sit there quiet in the bright afternoon light. In her lap, his head grows heavy enough she thinks he might’ve fallen asleep, though he hints at a smile when she starts playing with his hair. They’ve stilled enough she can feel his heartbeat beneath where their hands lay. A few beats pass. “All this talk of tattoos is making me think of getting one.” 

“Yeah?” He’d look good with tattoos, she thinks. They’d look nice against his skin, against his body. She presses her lips together to keep from smiling. “What would you get?” 

“Well, since you think rib tattoos are super cool—” of course he’d mention that, the asshole, “—obviously I’d want to get one of those.” 

“Mm, yeah?” She brushes a few curls off his forehead, and a mingle of dread and anticipation fills her stomach. He’s going to say something stupid, she knows, and amusing in that infuriating way of his. “Of what?” 

“A big ass drawing of your face.” 

“Asshole,” she says, stifling her laughter. 

He grins. “I was thinking I could get Nico to do it.” 

“He is the only one who could get my face—or anyone’s face—to look good as a tattoo, you’re right.” It really isn’t meant to be anything self-deprecating, but Edoardo takes each and every opportunity to tell her she’s beautiful that he gets. Even something silly, like this. 

A squeeze to her hand, accompanied by an earnest smile, raised eyebrows. She scrunches her face even as he says, “You’d look magnificent as a tattoo.” 

“Oh, compliment me further, please.” 

“Ele,” he chuckles a little like he can’t help it, even as he tugs on her hand. “I’m serious. Even if I wouldn’t get it tattooed, I’d love to commission Nico to draw you.” 

“Like one of his French girls?” She doesn’t look at him, she can’t look at him. 

“Ele.” 

She looks at him. Her breath hitches. A blush rises to her cheeks. Even after a year, Edoardo does and says things that make her heart beat faster. Says them all with the most serious expression, the most genuine tone, that it’s impossible not to believe him, and it makes her chest smart. The fucking charmer. “Don’t say things like that if you’re not serious about it, you’ll get my hopes up.” 

In an instant, he sits up, ferventness smoothing his expression until a small smile remains and the middle of his brow lifts. The skin around his eyes crinkles as that smile grows. “Yours is a face people would put in museums, Ele.” 

“Stop.” 

“No.” He leans toward her and presses the lightest of kisses to her mouth and draws back so she can see his face once more. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Stop.” 

“You know how you feel when you look at a garden or at a flower or a bush you think is really nice?” he asks, ignoring her protests, shifting his legs underneath himself to turn more fully toward her. He props up a bent knee and wraps his arm around it, scooting himself closer. “That’s how I feel when I look at you.” 

Her lips part as her focus flickers back and forth between his irises. Not a speck of dishonesty mars his face and the warmth in her chest spikes, her pulse races. “Edo—”

A finger comes up and presses to her lips, replaced quickly by his thumb. It ghosts over her skin and goosebumps erupt down the back of her neck and along her shoulders. “No, don’t say anything, you’ll ruin it.” 

Eleonora raises her eyebrows, face scrunching up. He’s right, after all. Accepting compliments is not her strong suit, even after a full year of him giving her a multitude of opportunities to practice. 

“You are beautiful, and wonderful, and smart.” He cups the back of her head. “Let me tell you that, okay?” 

After a moment of hesitation, she nods, and he proceeds to do so for several long minutes that make her squirm and smile and blush and makes her heart ache. She blushes so much as he lavishes her with an endless string of impassioned compliments that she’s far warmer than she was just the other day when the same mouth—now spouting adoration in a tone that can only be interpreted as honest—riled her up so much she thought she might burst from it. At the end, he gives her sweet kisses that can’t be strung into anything longer because they’re both smiling too hard; her out of the absolute fluster he’s caused and him from the reaction he’s drawn, she’s sure. 

A final kiss, then he sits back and beams at her. 

She purses her lips and shakes her head, squeezing his hand before changing the subject. “Okay, beyond the one of my face, what tattoo would you get?” 

Edoardo smirks at her pointed look, but his expression sobers as he thinks. After a second or two of consideration, he shrugs. “Probably something to remind me of my mom.” 

A soft smile slides onto her lips. Her voice is quiet. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” His own smile broadens as he thinks further. “She loved the sea, being in the water. Maybe I could get a wave, or a boat. Or a surfboard, she loved surfing.” 

“That sounds really nice.” She brushes the stray curl always falling into his eyes away from his face and he kisses her palm when she draws her hand back. As she speaks, his gaze never leaves her face. “I think she’d really like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

She nods, and her smile turns sheepish as she thinks of what she wants to say next. He spent several long minutes singing her praises, its the least she can do to say what she’s thinking: “I didn’t know her, but I know you. And something tells me that’s close enough.” 

The smile she’s rewarded with makes that warmth in her chest flare. He is as bright as the sun, talking about his mother, and radiates light. It’s contagious, she grins wide. 

“You’re too nice to me, sometimes.” 

Of their own accord, her eyebrows raise. “Says mister ‘compliment my girlfriend for ten minutes straight.’” 

“Those are well deserved.” 

“So is this.” She hopes he reads her honesty, understands how much she means it. As he studies her, his eyes flicker over her face, lighting on each of her features before returning to her eyes. He shakes his head, but smiles, and she squeezes his hand again. “She’d like anything you do.” 

And again, the staring. Just as she can’t take her compliments, neither can he, even after her attempts to match him the whole year. 

She whispers, “Let me tell you that, okay?” 

It’s his turn to part his lips and look hopelessly at her and nod after a pause. Eleonora smiles. 

A quiet few minutes pass in which they kiss and kiss and kiss until she’s out of breath, the wind whistling in her ears and cooling her skin, but not her heart. The sun shines bright, still, but it’s nothing compared to the light on Edoardo’s face as they draw apart. They settle into a cuddled clump once more, waves still lapping at the dock like he hadn’t upended her world for the thousandth time. She tucks into his side, one of his legs propped up behind her back and the other slid under her bent knees, his arm draped across her shoulders so he can play with her hair. 

Every muscle in her body relaxes when he tugs her closer and she smiles, turning her face into his chest. His sweater is soft against her cheek. “You could get Nico to draw the tattoo for your mom.” 

“You think?” 

“Of course.” A yawn escaped her. “You’ll want to have it drawn up before you go to the parlor. What reminds you of her the most?” 

“The ocean. When I play the guitar. Being with my nonna.” 

“Hm, okay, what we need to do is talk to Filo, of course, he’s the resident tattoo expert, as you probably know.” 

Edoardo’s laugh rings clear out over the ocean. Eleonora grins. 

#asks #skam italia #incantava #incantava fic #eleonora sava #edoardo incanti #this prompt literally killed me it was so soft #I'm dying #thank you for sending it in #and really pls read it on ao3 it always looks so much nicer there

[in-tua-deep]

yooo pls give me headcanons on five being an even younger child. unless you're saving them for fics ofc!!

Actual little kid Five or from the one fic idea I have where Five ends up being even younger than 13?? Regardless, I have a lot of thoughts so I’ll do both!

under the cut bc I can already tell this is gon get long

Actual baby Five - 

I already mentioned my headcanon that as a little kid when his powers were just manifesting, his powers sort of? Acted up just a little? Like he’d get little blue sparks playing across his hands constantly but without actually jumping. And, since touching the fabric of the universe is a bit tingly, Five would just chew on his hands to make the itchy feeling go away. 

Someone suggested mittens like the ones you give kids with chicken pox and I just about died so that’s 100% being added to my headcanons as well. And Five HATES those mittens with a passion and would have yelly screaming fits about them and just bash his mittened hands against the floor in outrage. Absolutely terrible.

Five could absolutely not control his powers at first. So he would just. Jump somewhere accidentally. Sometimes it was a kind of wishful thinking type thing like “hmm if i get up on the counter i can reach the cookie jar” and BAM suddenly Five is up on the counter. Other times it was more just “guess i’m gonna fall through the fabric of the universe and end up wherever lmao” and basically what I’m getting at is he gave everyone multiple heart attacks literally all the time

Sneezes. When Five sneezes he jumps by accident. Just ACHOO and a flash of blue light and he’s gone. Bye bye bitch. It’s involuntary and a nightmare when he gets sick.

Five was that little kid who LOVED to draw. Like he would just sit for hours with a crayon clenched in his chubby little baby fist drawing scribble monsters. Of course after a Certain Incident that included drawing on the walls Reginald Hargreeves banned drawing because it’s ‘childish’ or whatever. There’s a part of me that wants to say that after everything he picks up drawing again as something to occupy his hands that isn’t obsessively working and reworking equations

I’m going to go ahead and assign my own childhood bullshit to Five because why not so I headcanon that Five as a small child would DEMAND to be read to. At all hours. I’m talking literally attempting to pry the nannies eyes open and demanding that they ‘wead to [him]’ in the middle of the night. Most of the time he didn’t even actually care about being read to he just liked hearing someone talk so he was just as content just sitting with them while they chatted to someone else tbh (how did my parents not assassinate me as a kid smh)

and now i’m even sadder about him being alone in the apocalypse thanks

Would hide when he was upset. Also very good at hide and seek. Look this is a big ass house and Five can literally teleport out of a room and out from under watchful eyes I’m saying that he must have been the most stressful child in existence to watch over holy shit but yeah when upset crawls into some small space and hunkers down until he’s less upset. Start checking the cabinets you fools. Can and WILL fit into spots you think are too small for him to fit in. If there’s a larger space behind even he shouldn’t be able to squeeze in, he can jump in so don’t discount those as hiding places as well.

Cheated at tag. Cheated at tag so much. They literally have a special version of tag called ‘five tag’ designed specifically to handicap him because even when they ban using powers he still ends up being way too fucking good at tag like holy shit

okay this isn’t even much of a Five one but as little kids before Reggie decided to go on his “Vanya sucks” crusade they would team up against one another and Klaus was caught in the middle bc he was number four. Luther, Allison, and Diego would squad up (back before Luther and Diego were at each others throats I actually headcanon they were close before powers became a thing) and declare war on Five, Ben, and Vanya and then it became a game of trying to tempt Klaus onto a certain team. Klaus usually went with Five-Ben-Vanya but there were occasions that he was 100% a turncoat. Trust me I had an odd number of siblings this would have been a thing.

honestly though these nannies were dealing with seven kids under the age of four like god damn i have so much respect for them. That nursery must have been a fucking battle zone. There are no sides there is only survival. and these kids have SUPERPOWERS. Hell is empty and all the devils are looking at them with innocent eyes like the entire room isn’t completely trashed behind them. Where’s Five, kids? Where the fuck is your teleporting brother? Six put those tentacles away so help me god you will go straight into time out, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred. NUMBER ONE if you don’t put down that cabinet RIGHT NOW - 

Now i’m thinking about the first time Reginald dealt with one of the kids having a screaming meltdown in front of him. I feel like it would have gone very badly for the kid in question :(

and now for not quite a baby!Five

Extremely salty. Furious that he’s so small. Will stab you in the knees to make you get down to his level if you dare condescend to him. Probably stands on counters or tables when talking to his siblings, but has on at least one occasion hit his limit on jumps and been unable to get down without asking for help. Decides that he lives on the kitchen counter now because fuck that noise

Would rather die than be carried anywhere but if he’s the one to climb on someone then it’s okay. Prefers sitting on shoulders because a) taller, and b) they don’t have to hold him up and he can pretend that it’s entirely his decision

A sleepy bitch. Overuses his powers frequently getting to places he can’t easily reach anymore. Sleepy and grumpy. Doesn’t give two shits where he falls asleep and will sleep sprawled out across the floor, had been stepped on or had someone trip over him before and yet still refuses to stop. Honestly it’s a bit of a roulette whether he’ll wake up if they try to put him somewhere else, with just as much danger implied. Klaus produces traffic cones from god knows where and gleefully surrounds Five when he finds in which… is as good a solution as any tbh

His powers are still like,, almost on the fritz? Like when he was a little kid he couldn’t control them. He can now, but also they glitch out occasionally and his hands are all itchy again because they keep pushing at the boundary of the universe without him even thinking about it and it’s the most irritating thing in the world

His pain tolerance is back to being shit which he doesn’t appreciate. However everyone else freaks out way more than him when he accidentally slices his hand open trying to steal one of Diego’s knives, which was pretty funny

Claire comes over and immediately teams up with Five. No one saw it coming and everyone regrets it except for the tiny duo.

She asks him why he’s a kid if he’s her Uncle Five and he gives her the whole story about him growing old in the apocalypse and coming back etc. etc. and that he’s actually a grown up and he doesn’t think she’s going to understand but Claire just says “Oh, like Narnia?” and Five is like “EXACTLY LIKE NARNIA” and she is automatically his favorite

Claire literally tells Five point blank that he’s wasting his potential. How does Five not know all the tricks to being a brat and getting what you want? Puppy dog eyes first and progress into tantrums my friend. Look, Claire is Allison’s daughter and Allison was manipulative as fuck as a child and Claire has inherited at least some of that

Five’s eyes are fucking OPENED and everyone wishes they would be closed again. Five’s puppy eyes are surprisingly and devastatingly effective, especially when he tears up and lets his little lip wobble. Claire is so fucking proud of her protege

Claire rules the house with her tiny iron fist and Five readily follows her lead. Look, he never wanted to be the leader okay he was content to leave that to Luther and he’s equally happy now to leave it to Claire

The first time Patrick came to pick Claire up Five kicked him in the shins and ran off and Patrick was just very very confused about why Allison’s nephew (cover story, Klaus probably gets to pretend to be his dad again or something) has decided to hate him

Five still hides when he’s upset and now he’s tiny literally no one can find him. The first time it happens everyone freaks out and searches the entire house and after a few hours Grace just pops off and retrieves a now sleeping Five from like, the top shelf in the linen closet or something idk

On at least one occasion has had to be stopped from eating some kind of insect or spider off the floor. It’s like owning a cat or something. For the most part they hate it but one of them (Klaus) has 100% pointed out one to Five like “GET IT” but honestly this could be a headcanon for any age Five

#ask #anonymous #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #grace hargreeves #the nannies #claire hargreeves #my rambles

[firecrackerwrites]

@ohhherewegoagain @littlejazzy @noootheghouls @mythicalstrawberrywine @rhinky-thingz 

hey i did a think bc some of you were talking about Link playing with Rhett’s fingers when he’s a smol sleepy boy and oh no its cute

It’s late, dark outside and the lights of L.A. flash by through the windows of the Uber they took back from the office. They’re exhausted, but satisfied with a long day’s work. The car stops at a red light and Link leans his head over on Rhett’s shoulder. The contact is nice, reassuring, and they both need it after working so hard. A moment later and Link’s penchant for instantly falling asleep has once again made itself known. Rhett can tell just from the rhythm of his breathing and the deeper weight of his head against his shoulder. Rhett wiggles his phone from his jacket, taps out a quick text to Christy to let her know they’re on route. “I might have to steal our boy for a while” he says, and Christy replies near instantly with “Good. He needs it. Take our house tomorrow, I’ll get the kids out.” 

By the time the car bumps over the curb to Link’s driveway, Rhett isn’t too keen on shaking him awake. He wants to spend more time just like this, knowing Link is safe and warm and content...safe from the world and everything in it, just right there where Rhett can shield him. But he can’t. He raises his free arm to jostle Link lightly. “Wake up. You’re home.” he murmurs, and Link lets out a near involuntary whine that tells Rhett that yes, Link is dangerously close to slipping into headspace. “Hey,” he whispers in the quiet of the car. “Hey, don’t worry. We got all day tomorrow. For now I need you to get inside and get to bed. Christy’s waiting.” As he speaks the porch light flicks on and Christy appears with a soft smile, wrapped in her bathrobe. “C’mon,” Rhett coaxes, and finally Link rouses enough to clamber out of the car. Rhett doesn’t tell the driver to move until the door’s closed behind the both of them. 

He’s out the door before anyone in his house is awake, making it to Link’s place just as the sleepy looking kiddos all come straggling out the doorway. A few tired murmurs of “Uncle Rhett” greet him, and he gives the obligatory hugs as they file out to the car. 

“We’re going to the rec center,” Christy’s dressed for tennis, the kids for soccer. 

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, and she smiles softly at him, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek. 

“Take good care of our boy,” she speaks softly enough that the kids can’t hear, he nods in return. 

“Can do.” 

“He’s asleep still. We ought to be back tomorrow sometime.” her eyes glint with smugness as he raises his brows in confusion. “Your lovely wife invited us over for the night. There’s spare clothes for you in the guest dresser.” And with that she was off, leaving Rhett to nearly burst through the front door in all his excitement. 

He’s changed into the soft set of lounge wear and into the bed with Link before Link’s woken up. By the time Link starts to stir, Rhett’s been basking in the silence of a slow morning for several minutes already. He can’t wait to spend a slow day with Link, to help him regress if he wakes up big or cuddle him if he wakes up little. He rubs a firm hand down Link’s back and Link instinctively curls closer. “Morning,” he murmurs quietly, not daring to broach the barrier of normal speaking voice lest Link be startled by harsh sounds so close to his ears. Link wiggles around a little, gives a sleepy grunt and pries his eyes open, looking confused. 

“Rhett?” It’s thick with sleep, clumsily pronounced and Rhett knows Link hasn’t gotten nearly as much sleep as he really needs to. Link’s brows draw together like they do when he’s not understanding something, so Rhett rubs his back some more and shushes him. “I’m here. Let’s just lay here a minute, take it slow,” he suggests, letting Link feel out his headspace for the day. “The kids are with the girls today, so you and me have today and tonight together. You can go back to sleep if you want to.” he offers, peering down at Link’s messy hair. Link tugs at his shirt insistently and Rhett scoots closer so he can move his head from the pillow to Rhett’s chest. “That better?” he asks with a fond note in his voice as he settles his arms comfortably around Link. “Mmm.” Is all the sleepy response he gets as Link’s heavy eyes close again. 

Rhett hadn’t counted on dozing off himself, but when he comes to however long later, Link is still a warm weight against him. A set of sleepy fingers are playing with Rhett’s left hand in a way that tells him very clearly that Link has finally allowed himself to regress. He feels a sleepy-soft smile creep across his face, moving his other arm higher against Link’s back, holding him a little tighter. “Whatcha doin’?” he rumbles softly, knowing full well that this ritual somehow soothes Link when he’s feeling small. 

“Bubba hands,” Link explains tiredly, giving a soft nuzzle at Rhett’s shoulder to show his pleasure at finally getting paid attention. 

“Does Bubba have big hands?” Rhett asks, raising his hand palm up. Link takes the cue and puts his hand up against Rhett’s. It isn’t that much smaller, but it’s small enough to satisfy Link, who gives a sleepy nod against his chest. 

“Big,” Link agrees quietly, and Rhett puts his hand back down where Link can play with his fingers again. He starts to fiddle with Rhett’s fingers, and Rhett can sense the question forming in his brain. He tugs Link a little closer and kisses his forehead. “S’goin’ on, Bumblebee?” Rhett coaxes gently. “Huh? What’s going on in that smart brain of yours?” He makes a mental note to get Link up and changed soon, get him a binky so he has a comfort object. Something about the way he’s clearly preparing himself to say something has Rhett’s instincts on high alert. 

Link toys with Rhett’s fingers a while longer, smiles softly against his shirt. “Thinkin’ ‘bout this,” he’s drawn himself out of headspace enough to talk, and Rhett perks up. Any time Link wants to talk about headspace is important, and Rhett is always proud of him for it, always makes sure to listen to him. “Oh, yeah?” he replies, sliding his hand under Link’s tee and making soothing skin to skin circles against his back. “What about this?” 

“Like bein’ with Bubba,” it sounds like it’s a struggle to talk, to form words, but his words still have that hazy sound to them like he’s happy. Sometimes coming into or going out of headspace his words sounded the same. Hazy, content, like his brain was fogged over or something. He’s glad Link still called him ‘Bubba’, though. He’s missed hearing it and there’s something endearing about when Link isn’t fully small but still uses the nickname. “Like feelin’ safe,” he insists with another little nuzzle. “Bubba’s so big and strong. Makes Link feel safe. Gives good hugs. Link likes to cuddle with Bubba in the morning. Is nice and sleepy and soft and safe.” Link murmurs, gripping one of Rhett’s fingers in his fist loosely. 

The gesture combined with the cute but honest confession has Rhett holding him even tighter, nuzzling at Link’s hair affectionately. “Oh, goodness, Bumblebee. Somebody’s using some grownup words, thank you so much for that. You did so good talking about your feelings and telling me what you like. I think my favorite part of weekends with you is getting to cuddle up too. You’re so cuddly in the morning, Bumblebee. Nothing quite makes Bubba feel as good as your cuddles do.” Link hums happily, but a different kind of wiggle has Rhett ready to move. 

“Bubba, potty,” Link insists, and Rhett’s up in a flash.

“I know, bo. Let’s get you all ready for the day, huh?” 

God, Rhett loves time with his little Bumblebee. 

#drabbles

[sorcererinthestars]

Love the supernatural au! I feel like Jeremy would be one to subtly leave his scent all over the others. He wants to protect them even if he's not with them and his scent does discourage some unwanted attention. It can occasionally backfire though

and also @diva-de-gallifrey‘s “I'm late but big were puppy Jeremy sleeping by the foot of jacks cauldron cus it's warm and cozy, sneezing bc of all the smells but still not wanting to leave” hope you don’t mind me combining and i’m SO sorry this is so late, life has sort of kicked me in the ass latelyWC: 683 [unedited]

--Jeremy likes to feel wanted. They all know this, so don’t dissuade him when the pup tries to do things that are more doglike than people. Including adding his scent to things and people. Jack humors him one day while she’s tending Michael’s potion. She’s been learning the subtle art of potion-crafting from their resident witch, taking real care in learning how to brew health potions in particular. Today Michael was out with their Fae, casing a joint they were looking to attack, and so she was alone in the apothecary they set up. Alone with an oversized puppy-man poking his head into places it didn’t belong. It was a few days before shift and he was acting more doglike than usual, rubbing up against her until she scratched him behind the ear, going more non-verbal, that sort of thing. She chuckles at him gently, stroking his hair and letting him lean into her.“Thought you were allergic to ragweed,” she hums, organizing some herbs on the shelf while the potion bubbled merrily in the cauldron beside her. Jeremy shrugs and sneezes a bit - the obvious answer - but doesn’t look like he was going to go. Instead, he yawns, flopping down in a big armchair Michael had bundled down here to go next to his shelf of herbals and spellbooks. It’s close enough to the warmly brewing fire that his eyes can start to drift shut.Jack smiles at him softly. The poor boy had been working so hard lately. Geoff had sent him and the other Lads out on an enforcing mission that had left them all exhausted. Her smiles shifts into a frown as she gently stirs the potion, watching the sleeping puppy doze. He had been marking them with his scent, recently, which normally deterred rival attention. Since they had gained ownership of LS, it had become a haven of supernaturals looking to flee the Hunters. That meant more potential problems for them - especially with Wolves.Normally, Wolves - even werewolves - traveled in Packs. Jeremy always called them his Pack, but it was odd that they had found him alone to begin with. He had never explained why he had ended up alone (now Jack was beginning to think even he didn’t know), but a rival scent of a werewolf tended to draw the others in like flies. The night before was one such time. From what she knew, Jeremy and the boys had been doing a routine reinforcement when a rival Wolf Pack had strolled up. Jeremy marks them as Alpha, of course - there was no Wolf to challenge him. Not until the head of this small Gang attempted to attack him.Jack had only heard bits and pieces of the night before. Jeremy’d been jumped as they were leaving the meeting and it took the combined power of their Fae and their Witch to get him away from the other Pack. Their Alpha didn’t want another Alpha around, running in the same territory, and was willing to rip Jeremy to shreds in order to prove a point.They had come back, bloodied and miserable and angry, a few hours later. Alive. The other Pack had fled with their tails between their legs and Jeremy’s status as Alpha had been maintained, but it left a good reminder about how dangerous their city was getting with Supernaturals who didn’t respect their authority.Even still, Jack liked it when she knew Jeremy was Marking them with his Scent. It made her feel warm. Protected. Stopping the potion, she moves over to gently brush a kiss across her sleepy puppy’s face.He opens his eyes a bit, smiles at her, and leans into her touch (not before sneezing again - the smell had gotten quite intense). She gently pushes him over to cuddle with him on the armchair. He crawls into her lap - a 200lb lapdog- and falls asleep.Gently, she strokes his hair. Once a month she may have to deal with an exhausted, overemotional, sometimes-rabid Wolf. But she wouldn’t trade this for the world.

#supernatural au #jeremy/jack #what is the ship name for that? #soft sweet lovers #rlskipper0

[wlwtsubomi]

do u have bnha ocs? 0:

YES I DO THANK YOU FOR ASKING

akfjafkahglad throwing them all under read more bc i have,,, A Lot(TM)

i actually have a fuckin uhhhhh nextgen au?? and thats where A Majority Of Them come from??????? and i love them all id die for them

ok so like

ok so two of my Main Ones are era and takuma!!!!!!!! ft. some changed designs bc im considering revamping laylaylb bc it Kinda Sucks. 

so era is the shark one!!!!! her quirk is minor shark and its a mutant quirk that gives her vague mutations from a whitetip reef shark!!! that includes (but is not limited to) double rows of teeth, gils, some fins, enhanced smell and like, you know that thing that sharks do where they can find things from like,, those feely things from their chins?? yeah era can do that. she also tends to be more wild at night?? but it can be passed off as loopiness. since shes from a nextgen au shes the adopted daughter of kiri and baku???? her full name is bakushima era and she is like,,, just Rowdy and Easily Excited.

takuma is a more obvious nextgen kid and hes a tododeku fankid?? THOUGH in the revamp im gonna make him a todoiideku fankid with siblings bc ive always had concept for siblings for him but i was a Coward and never went through with them. his quirk is temperature control and its an emitter quirk that, when he touches something, he can adjust the temperature of an object. whenever he raises the temperature in something, the temperature of his body lowers, and vise versa. that often leads him to being cold constantly and having to bundle up his body in like a thousand jackets. its Very Relatable to me tbh. anxiety is hereditary so hes very anxious and withdrawn. he tends to be very scatterbrained and more often then not he forgets words mid-sentence and needs eras help to remember them. that leads him to repeat things a lot and quit a lot of things midway because he cant describe them. thats Also Very Relatable. his full name is midoriya takuma although in the revamp, its most likely that his name will be changed to iida-midoriya takuma

another important character to the nextgen who isnt actually a nextgen kid is siryoku karashiro (despite me often using first names as a way to refer to characters, i called him by his family name (siryoku) so frequently in laylaylb that thats just how i refer to him at this point) and hes really fun to draw. so hes kinda hard to explain without giving a lot about his backstory and eventual character arc away?? but hes from a rich family of lawyers who all have quirks that allow them to intimidate people by meeting their eyes. however, due to a recessive quirk from his moms side, he ended up having an variant of the black hole quirk. unlike thirteen, who (presumably) can channel theirs through their fingers, his is through his eyes. without a lot of practice with his quirk, he cant really control it and it often ends up being an all or nothing sort of trump card. siryokus very socially awkward and often has a hard time keeping up with extroverted people like ame and era. he also tends to miss expressions and figures of speech. but other than that, hes very earnest and despite his fumbles, wants to help others

while takuma era and siryoku are the Main Trio, takuma and era are also in another trio alongside ame, full name uraraka ame. shes a tsuchako fankid who really likes wearing christmas sweaters in the middle of summer. a part of this generations “big 3″ ame is a third year and an intern under thirteen. her quirk is zero gravity, inherited directly from ochako. shes very caring, and the “big sister” of the group if you will. she tries to help people as much as she can, and is the role model of both era and takuma. she is very energetic though, but she misses a lot of social cues and can as such be seen as pushy or overbearing. 

while she hasnt appeared a lot yet in either my comics or in laylaylb, another character who will end up being important is kyousou hansha!!!! she will be (eventually) the vice president of their class and has been shown to be very driven, determined, and almost judgemental. she hasnt come with the intention of befriending people who dont come up to her standards, though what exactly those standards are is currently unknown. (i know it though) all thats currently known is that she often knows how to take charge of a situation with a very analytical point of view, and that perhaps thats what helped her land a recommended spot into ua. (who recommended her and what her quirk is hasnt been officially shown, though if you look through my blog, im p sure i mentioned it at one point)

this is a very bad drawing, because kazankawa (full name kazankawa atsui) is one of my favorite characters to draw (without coloring because her details is hard for me to color) and has one of my favorite character designs out of my bnha ocs. her quirk is volcano, and its a mutant quirk that almost makes herself like a living volcano. however, she cant ‘erupt’. her skin literally has cracks around where it folds the most, so think at the joints of her fingers and in her elbow. it also has cracks below her eyes. the cracks are filled with lava, though it is purely stationary. she gives off heat and can produce smoke from her mouth (though she doesnt know it yet). she is also able to throw up lava, but thats just kinda gross. she comes across as level-headed, chill, and sleepy almost all the time. however, once she gets riled up or in the battle field, she becomes more wild and reckless.

some other characters and wow isnt this a great drawing, is the houkai squad. i dont have an official name for their group, but they have a really fun dynamic to write. houkai genki (the middle one in the screenshot) is the one that this entire group revolves around, because they are the one who taigun and kuroiya are around for. they have an emitter quirk called emp, which is. an emp. yeah. its,, self explanatory. some people think theyre slick, but really, theyre kinda just really stupid and has no self restraint. 

taigun kisaki (the leftmost) is literally the groups voice of reason and impulse control. her quirk is literally the most terrifying quirk ive ever come up with and its an emitter quirk that lets her control the bees. fuck you vigilantes i made it up before i knew you made a character with a similar quirk. shes by all means an extrovert, but has very thin patience and is constantly done by the shenanigans of this god forsaken group.

kuroiya fumukoi was actually the third bnha oc i designed, and was originally supposed to be a very withdrawn softspoken character. but as i wrote laylaylb, she was changed to an enabler of houkais, with just vaguely more intelligence than houkai, but instead of doing things out of sheer stupidity, more out of just ballsy-ness. her quirk is called shadow step and allows her to travel through shadows. it often leaves her hungry, so a lot of times she can be caught munching on something.

some other characters are the rest of the big 3!!! i love them a lot. like,, listen i would die for them. besides ame, theres suiro takara, the one on the right, and her quirk is crystal channel?? shes an intern under aoyama and can channel her own energy into crystals on her body (which is why she wears so many necklaces) in the form of lasers. shes constantly tired and stressed and honestly really offput by ame. ames excited and loud personality is a bit too much for her, so she tends to lash out or act cold. then theres yasuyou natsuki, the middle, whos quirk is flame body. her bodys literally a fire. as a result, all of the the third years had to be made extra fire durable outfits and gym uniforms to withstand being worn or coming into contact with her. ame has a crush on her, though yasuyou isnt aware of it. yasuyou is dense but upbeat, not interacting with ame a lot because theyre in different classes. (ame is in 3-a while yasuyou is in 3-b). also, ame, idk about u, but idk how ur gonna smooch fire.

of course there is A Lot of other characters from laylaylb that i wont write bc i dont have the screenshots or drawings on hand or bc they havent been revealed or i dont have the energy to explain all about the background characters

BUT

i DO have a non-laylaylb bnha oc and i dont have a name or set design for her yet but ive been stewing over the idea of her quirk for the LONGEST time

so basically shes a support student whos quirk is balance. its an emitter/mutant kinda quirk that gives her impeccable balance and things that she touches the same balance as well. it comes in handy when walking/maneuvering with things in her hands, and allows her to stack things without the fear of them fall over. think about that one sasuke figurine that could balance anything on its head and think ‘what if that was a quirk’

she isnt keen on sharing her ideas with others, though when she does, its often for critique. she has an odd sense for knowing when people lie to her about their opinions, and prefers brutal truth. perhaps its because thats how she is-- overly blunt and bad at determining which things are and arent right to tell to someones face. 

i could see her getting along with hatsume

#i love all of my bnha ocs.... #i want them all to be happy......... #/long post #Anonymous

[sweatytyrantwhispers]

Part 4 of things my friends do that make me love them even more:

- both rachel and cristine are artistically talented and i cant fucking wait to see them become famous doing the things they love (i know theyll becoem famous i believe in them tht much) (rachel has a great singing voice; cristine has a great singing voice, knows how to play various intstruments, loves acting, and can paint/draw amazingly)

-seth tells me some catchphraes his fav youtubers say whenever we talk

-none of my friends (nor I) knows how to react or what to say most of the time, especially when it comes to gift giving and compliments; we’re all oblivious and awkward people that don’t understand society

-andy messes up on what to say to customer service people when its evening/night time cus we usually go out around tht time but he’s used to sauing have a good day

-andy also hates intersections so he’ll pretend hes walking in the other direction (away frm the intersection), stand on the sidewalk and pretend hes doing something, or take a whole other route if theres a car nearing the intersection bc he says it feels awkward

-rachel’s favorite animals are dogs and raccoons so when i send her a post abt raccoons she gets rly excited and says she wants to hv a raccoon as a pet when she grows up. She also gets excited when i point out a dog to her in public (she cant see it cus no glasses but still excited by its genert presence)

-dina is scared of lightning so I always try to ask her if shes alright when theres a thunderstorm

-when we go to the park, rachel almost always tries to make tiktoks. We always end up interrupting and annoying her while she makes them though, sorta like our little routine.

-last time we went to the park, rachel ended up accidentally hitting meng and I directly on the face with the volleyball (its ok though cause im pretty sure we’ve ended up accidentally hitting each other with the ball at least once)

-when i got hit with the ball dina asked me if i was ok but as she moved towards me she went for the ball (we were playing monkey in the middle and she was one of the monkeys); its just funny and i love that our friendship is at a point where we could laugh about it and everything is fine

-i told my friends that i was depressed before going to the park to hang out w them. when i got there i kinda just sat on the ground looking through reddit with music on high. they all tried their best to talk to me and tell me funny stories (they said they overheard a group of kids talking about how they pantsed another dude) to cheer me up. Dina and Rachel both decided to give me a hug at the same time and i toppled over. Dina gave me a hug again. I love them so much

- Andy called me while i was in class to tel me to look at the sunset. Its something that both of us have done a few times because we both love sunsets and usually see them when we’re out. Its a small thing but it makes me love my friends even more.

-I was on voice call with Rachel on discord and she laughed then sent the group chat a link to a tiktok

-(not my friend but my mom) She knows that i hate it when things are thrown out when they’re still good or can still be repurposed. Someone brought flowers home for some reason (i forgot why) but she was putting the flowers in a vase one day. Some of the flowers broke off the bigger portion of the stem and couldn’t be put into the big vase but she put a bunch of them into a small container for me and gave it to me. I loved it even though we did hv to throw it out like a few weeks later.

-My friends and I were at Central Park and we were waiting for my two friends to finish up taking pictures. Meng and I were taking a short nap (him sitting down w his elbows on his legs and me w my head on his shoulder) while we waited. We also shared my earbuds to listen to my music. I was p sleepy so I was on the verge of sleeping my also sorta aware of what was going on (mainly cus we were guarding our stuff while everyone else was taking pictures elsewhere). I was doing that thing you do when you’re nodding your head while trying to stay awake/go to sleep. I kept on doing that until he eventually sat up a bit more and pushed my head onto his shoulder better

-Samir looked at a shirt with george washington on it and confidently said that was benjamin franklin

-Dina was talking about how she kept on eating shrimo and peanuts even though she has a mild allergy to it. Rachel and I were telling her to stop and tht we’re not bringing it to the picnic on sunday cus we dont want her dying. She responded, very confidently, tht she “hasnt died before”

-Samir calls dina “d-money”

-Rachel gave me a hug as an im sorry for taking so long. (I genuinely didnt care cus even tho they do take a long time i still v much love them)

-Rachel takes tiktoks and videos of us while we’re out

-Rachel and Dina both got v the excited when i wore a skirt out today because I usually dress more masculine

-A few weeks ago (i think) my friends and I were at the park. I was trying to do something to meng and tripped and fell on the park ground (the part where there’s basically a bunch of tiny rocks on/in the floor). Meng was also trying to do that thing where two people hold a person’s arms and legs and swing them back and forth with me but forgot that if you take someones legs off the floor with no one else holding my arms, i would fall head first onto the park ground, which i did. Both times I laughed at myself but everyone rushed to me while laughing. Idk why but it made me feel like I was ok and safe, even if i was in so much pain, srsly i couldve had a concussion.

- Rachel and I both got excited bc we both wanted to got to the same college

-I call andy when im walking home by myself at night (or when the route im taking doesn’t necessarily hv a lot of people of lights) and he just vibes with me (sometimes talks to me abt how i should b home) until i get home safely

-idk if i already put this but Andy and I have a safe word when we think there might be someone behind us following us at night bc one time when walking home we thought tht and used our now safe word to see if there was someone

-Rachel and Dina do this thing where they take their hand and go from the side of someone else’s body (where the arms are) to the bottom of their legs rly fast while theyre walking. They call it “full body stroke”. They shared it w me and now we do it to meng almost every time we go out. Sometimes we do it together (one person per side).

-While at Central Park there was a dude that was singing (he was rly good). He started singing “Lean on me” by Bill Withers and my friends started singing along with him.

-Rachel sent me a tiktok knowing full well that itd make me gay panic bc yk ✨w o m e n✨

-Dina, Alan, and I stayed out after everyone else went home cus yk they were tired. Dina and I decided to talk like white girls/pick me girls the rest of the night with their stereotypical voices. We laughed the entire time and created weird storylines including: Jessica (Dina), Olivia (me), Jayden (Jessica’s boyfriend and brother that created on Jessica with me and Nicole), Nicole (Jessica’s friend), Olivia’s dad (a convicted felon in all 50 states and is dead), Jessica’s dad (a lawyer that’s also running for president, and Alan (he was just roped into our bs and was there to act like the dude that we both wanted to have as our bf).

- When we were in the bathroom and washing our hands, Dina waited until after the other woman in the bathroom to leave before coming up to me and, in a discreet whisper, told me that the soap was what “good pussy sounds like”

- Rachel, Dina, and I saw a few cats on our way to meet up with Alan and we played w the cats for a bit before one of them said “pspspspsp come here alan” to one of the cats. We now do this frequently to each other even though we hate it.

- We have corrupted each other to the point where we cannot hang out without someone saying “that’s what she said”, something about Dina being white, “just like this dick”, and “deez nuts”. We laugh about it a lot

- Rachel and I are both reasonably out of energy both mentally and physically after our jobs so when I walked w her to a mall w the rest of her friends, we both walked silently with a bit of catching up cause we both understood how the other felt

-We had a water balloon fight today at work (Alan, Rachel, and I work together). Obviously, I took the chance to pop as many balloons over rachel’s head and dump water on her. She tried to spray me w water using a water gun though. Afterwards gave the towel i brought to rachel cause she needed it to change. It’s important to note that rachel has purple hair right now and that the towel was white. key word: was. The towel was now stained a light purple (I dont mind but damn)

- i made rachel a purple raccoon by crocheting it (purple and pink actually). I finished it yesterday (sunday) and gave it today to her at work (monday). I opened the door a bit and peeked my head in with the raccoon just below me in my hands. She was confused at first but then saw the raccoon and her eyes lit up. It was rly cute🥰🥺 to see her get excited. We both nicknamed the raccoon “pimp jr.” and i made a lil name tag/from to tag that said it.

- rachel likes to lip-sync to music shes either listening to or hears in store and sometimes does a little dance with it. Its so cute and I love looking at her do it because it reminds me of why I adore her. She also goes hard when it comes to singing at karaoke. Like damn her vocal range is astounding

- dina got so excited when i asked her if she wanted to binge watch all the twilight movies with me. She looked so cute cus its one of her favorite movies. ugh i love my friends.

-a lot of dudes have crushes on rachel and dina and the both of them usually just try their best to avoid the person or avoid confronting them. Idk why but it kinda makes me feel grateful that I’m close friends with them because I used to have a crush on both of them before when we first met. When I told them i used to have crushes on them they didn’t act weird about it or anything and we continued to be friends. I’m so fucking grateful I’m their friend despite my initial crush on them cause they’re two of them most amazing people I’ve met my entire life.

-rachel, meng, alan, and I went to go watch Shang Chi in movies. In the last few scenes (which were v tense btw) rachel nd I both got rly anxious and squeezed each others hands bc we were scared out favorite characters were gonna get hurt. She squeezed the fuck out of my hand to the point where I couldn’t feel it anymore and neither could she. I’m ok with that though cus I’m glad she finds comfort in squeezing the living fuck out of my hands.

-dina, rachel, and I have matching bracelets from hot topic and i see them wear it almost every time we hang out. Alan and I have a matching pair too but I dont think he’s going to wear it very much (issok tho).

-We went to karaoke yesterday and I dont know how I just realized this but while she’s singing, dina likes to move around a lot. It’s not exactly dancing but not particularly just moving around. Its kinda like that tiny thing ppl do when they’re alone and playing their favorite songs on blast. She’s so cute when she does it, esp because she seems so happy when she does it. Even though I absolutely despise Justin Bieber, I would play his songs over and over again on blast if it made her as happy as she has made me.

-dina and I like to go to the swings and blast “Happier Than Ever” with earbuds in (we share a pair for this) and she screams along to it for the second half

-it’s become a “tradition” for us to go to the swings (most of time) after we’ve done the initial things we already planned out because dina and I love the swings.

[bluesey-182]

okay what about bluesey and moving in together? house hunting and getting used to living together?

a'ight so this is kind of relevant to stuff happening in my life rn so I figured this would be a good place to start in the massive pool of prompts in my inbox. • obvs they spend several years after high school travelling all over the damn place but I think eventually homesickness will draw them back go Henrietta and they buy a place as kind of... a base camp??? for them to come back to everytime there's a break in their adventures• blue would def. be wanting some small but absurd house. yanno like.... the architecture is a bit weird or there's a tiny random door somewhere in the house or there's a loft built right inside of one of the bedrooms. she'd definitely be wanting something odd and Aesthetic™ bc it's blue, come on. and gansey would want something magical about the house. like, he'd probably want it by the ley lines or something.• gansey has a list, a pretty lengthy list, of questions to ask about all the house. stuff about when it was built and the history of the house (because lbr they'd be looking at some old ass houses that definitely have a lot of stories built into them) but also stuff about, like, plumbing and electrical and all the other technical stuff about houses because he "wants to be thorough" so they "know what they're getting into" and "don't get scammed into by a dump for a house"• "Jane, why are you rolling your eyes? these things are important!"• "yes but did you really need to write out two pages of questions to ask of EVERY HOUSE"• so eventually they'd settle on a lil house that needs a bit of work and they'd have a lot of fun patching it up but idk anything about that stuff so that's as far as that headcanon will go • aunt Jimmi comes over with her (I think it was sage????) cleansing stuff to like, rid the house of any negative energy and gansey would be coughing from the scent but trying so hard to cover it up and be polite while blue is quietly scowling at him • Ronan and Adam help them move in (Adam is the one helping move the furniture while Ronan fell asleep on the first couch they moved into the space because he's still an angsty guy that lives to piss people off) but eventually Adam wakes him up and says something to him and Ronan finally starts helping moving stuff into the house (though he's mumbling obscenities the entire time)• once everything is all moved in but still all packed up, blue and gansey probably sit on the floor of the living room that night, surrounded by boxes, eating take out. and they're both just..... feeling how REAL this all is, and feeling excited about this new stage in their relationship.• they probably snuggle on the floor after they finish eating and just talk about how they want to decorate all the rooms and of course blue's ideas are Out There but Gansey is happy to indulge her and after a while they both go quiet and gansey shifts to look over at blue and she gives him a little sleepy smile and he just.... kisses her v soft and they end up falling asleep on the floor (and regretting it the next morning because ow) • omg I'm just imagining them painting the rooms and doing that cliche couple thing of getting paint on each other and chasing each other around the room with paint covered hands and bear hugging one another because they're Covered™ in paint and they're laughing and so happy and so in love and of course they kiss. smooch smooch, bluesey can kiss now and you'll have to pry that out of my cold dead hands• I think blue wakes up on some nights to an empty bed and she'll wander through the house until she finds gansey. some nights he's reliving the trauma of dying and blue will just hold him. most of the time he's having a bout of insomnia and probably working on another model of Henrietta or doing some other Gansey BS and blue will lay down in whatever room he's in and for a while she'll try to stay up with him but eventually she ends up falling asleep and gansey is just happy to have her presence in the room with him.• omg gansey trying to make breakfast in bed for blue and somehow fucking something up and blue rushes into the kitchen because "wtf is happening?!" and then after the situation is dealt with blue gives gansey so much shit for whatever happened but she's blushing the entire time because she thinks it's so sweet that he wanted to make her breakfast and bring it to her in bed • they settle for eating yogurt instead honestly there's sooooo much I could write about this prompt but I think I'm gonna stop here. thanks for sending it in! I really hope you like it.

#trc #the raven cycle #bluesey #blue x gansey #blue Sargent #gansey #post-trk #headcanon #text post #mine #I hope you guys like this I know it's been a really long time since I've answered any of these prompts so I'm sorry if this is really Rusty

[impalaimagining]

PittCon Saturday

(holy shit y’all this was so much to remember from this morning until now. sorry if I forgot anything) Also this is obnoxiously long so this one gets a cut. #You’reWelcome

Read Friday’s here.

Part One: 

No Rob Benedict. Rich makes promises of him later.

ROB BENEDICT!!! He walked out with Briana and she claims she planned the whole thing.

Briana, Kim, and Gil didn’t have anyone lined up for questions. Briana threatened period talk. Gil blushed. 

Questions for Briana today instead of Kim. Briana does a little victory thing every time someone says, “My question is for Bri.” Kim mocks her from yesterday and says, “I’m gonna answer it anyway.”

Gil is third-wheelin’ it, hard. 

Gil addresses the whole thing that happened with the butt grabbing. He wanted to “nip it in the bud because it was weighing very heavily” on him. Apparently I missed that last night because I had no idea what he was even talking about when he said it. He’s a great guy. Try not to fault him for one little slip, yeah? He’s human. Cut the man some slack. 

Part Two: 

Rob scolds Rich for not telling us about the “I <3 KoC” shirts. Debates about whether it’s pronounced like Coke or like cock. “Wear that to Grandma’s house.” “One of those things will kill you!” 

Matt, Rob, and Rich bounce off of one another unbelievably well. 

Pssst, Matt Cohen is fucking attracccttiivveeeee

Questions about other projects and hobbies come up. Matt says he wants to get into racing again. Racing is in his future. Richard says he’s a lot like his father. His father was a lawyer. Rob used to have his own baseball league. With himself. He made up teams like “The Colors” and “Other Things.”

Rob and Rich are besties and it makes my life. 

The pilot for Skyward is streaming now on Amazon. Rich said there’s a part already sketched out for Rob if the show continues. It wasn’t his idea to include Rob, but he wanted to eventually anyway. 

Part Three:

Mark Sheppard is either consistently grouchy or was very tired/cranky today.

Almost all of his answers boiled down to one word, so that was the one word he used, and then moved on. He probably answered more questions on his own than Misha and Jake did combines just because of how fast he was moving. 

He said fuck Creation’s rules and walked around the crowd most of the time. Also joked about how when he was more powerful (and important), they never would’ve allowed that. (sad face on my part)

A fan asks how he feels about Fergus’s deal and how he lost his soul, what he sold it for. He doesn’t laugh. Just says, “If you want to ask about my penis, there are other ways to do it. I can’t relate to Fergus, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His favorite line is “Where’s your moose?” 

“You’re good, but I’m Crowley,” was improv. 

Talking about his wife and daughter made him light up like a Christmas tree. It was adorable. 

Everyone thinks he hates cats. He got very snarky about it. “Did I say I hate cats? No. I don’t hate anything. I hate Misha. Oops.”

He thinks Crowley came full circle. There wasn’t much else for him to do in the series, he thinks. 

He doesn’t understand the logic behind Rowena being Crowley’s mother.When Rowena dies at the hands of Lucifer (the first time), Mark said the line, “Always thought I’d be the one to do it,” felt very right in that moment.

Part Four: 

Jake Abel has the bubbliest butt in the entire cast. To quote myself from earlier today, “You could bounce a fuckin nickel off of that thing.”

He’s been creating plotlines and ways to bring Adam back. New plans are made every time he comes to a convention. Currently, we’re looking at an Adam spinoff in which he and his mother are resurrected (him from Hell, her from Heaven) and become hunters. They have “opposing forces!” as Jake said, and the story would follow the way they got the opposing forces to work together for the same common purpose.

This man is insane. 

He kept reminding us that he was in a weird mood because his flight didn’t get in until 4am.

Sleepy Jake is the cutest. 

Talk of Percy Jackson. 

Lots of talk about bringing Adam back. 

Part Five: 

MISHA. FREAKIN. COLLINS.

Guys. I’ve never been more amazed by one person’s smile and overall attitude. He’s so cheery and bright and uugghhh Misha.

He tells a story about his dad, and then says that he had to tell his children about his parents’ (brief, I think?) split, but he doesn’t want it to sound like that’s the only way marriages can end. The next day, his son went to school and told the teacher, “I want my parents to get a divorce.” I literally have no idea if this is true, but it’s what Misha told us.

Fake spoilers for Season 13, but he told us that he was filming it last night. Jared and Jensen still fuck with him to no end. 

“We were filming. Jared was on the bed, and we were doing something we don’t usually do on Supernatural.” *cue roars from the audience*

I think he tried to fight someone in the crowd. I have photos of his bulgy eyes and sassy jawline. Yeah, it’s a thing. 

MY PHOTO OP WITH HIM !!!!!!!!!

I was going to show him the photo of himself standing in front of the whiteboard with his drawing of Maison and the dandelion. Creation doesn’t allow phones in the photo op rooms so I had to put it in my pocket, which was fine.

I walked up and asked the woman if I could show him something. She said, “Sure, just make it quick!” Again, I get it. Not a problem. 

I’m standing there waiting with my arm pulled out of my sleeve to show him my tattoo. I walk up and I’m greeted with the most amazing smile and such a soft “hi.” 

I blurt out, “I NEED TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING!” *shoves my arm towards him* *silence from Misha as he stares*

His mouth kind of popped open when he realized what it was. His eyes are so freakin’ blue and I know because he looked me directly in them and told me, “That’s amazing.” 

My heart is racing, but I lean and and we hug and Chris snaps the photo. I step to walk away and Misha grabs my hands (!!!!!!!!!) I turn and look up at him (because damn he’s tall! He’s right, he’s just surrounded by giants.) and he squeezes my hands. “That’s amazing.” It’s so quiet and I blink for a second. “Thank you.” I get another tight hand squeeze and thank him before running into the hallway and crying. (*inhale* I’m okay, really.)

HUGE HUGE HUGE FUCKIN’ THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO DONATED MONEY TO GET ME THAT OP. I LOVE YOU ALL AND IF/WHEN I MEET YOU GUYS, HUGS ALL AROUND.

On to the auto. I showed him the tattoo again, quickly spat out, ”I know I showed it to you at the photo ops but...!”  and he drew a heart next to his name when he signed it. I got another “That’s amazing. Thank you so much.” and that friggin smile

I still don’t know if he knows the tattoo is his handwriting. I assume he could tell when he looked at it, especially for how long he looked at it. But *shrugs* maybe one day I’ll tell him.

While waiting for Misha’s op, I MET @HIGHONPASTRIES (whose tumblr is literally not working this weekend, just FYI)!!! There’s a selfie to prove it. Will be posted later.

Part Six: 

SNS

Jake introduces the band. First starts by demanding that we chant, “Bring Adam back,” over and over again. Chant quickly turns into, “Lou-den Swain.”

I didn’t know I needed a fuckin’ KAZOO. *cough cough* @torn-and-frayed @nichelle-my-belle-spn-con-blog (still waiting for the kazoo tip to make an appearance)

Rob Benedict sang half a song without a microphone. Don’t know why. It just wasn’t working. 

MATT COHEN WINKED AS HE RAN PAST ME Y’ALL. Camera was too slow to capture it but if anyone has that wink, good God send it this way, please.

Sam Smith popped out! Just to introduce Kim though - no singing. 

Kim Rhodes was so nervous and I just want to hug her and tell her she’s amazing. 

Briana was wearing LEATHER BOOTS UP TO HER HIPS. #YAAAASSSS

Gil McKinney. That fuckin’ man. Making me cry and shit, two days in a row. 

Drunk Matt Cohen is a thing of my dreams. 

Lots of guest appearances within the band. Chris on bass, Rich on bass, Adam from Creation on keys, Rich on guitar and the mic. Nobody takes Billy’s guitar from him though ;) 

Whipping Post sans Jensen. Still fuckin’ awesome. 

Fare Thee Well!!!! Rob prefaced it with a spoiler alert for those who haven’t seen the episode yet. *giggle*

Rob cried singing She Waits. Then said he loves us so much it’s unreal. This man is pure and good and needs to be protected at all costs. 

They played my faaave song. It’s called Amazing. 

Kazoo song. Also known as Medicated. Someone had an amplifier for their kazoo. Rob was very impressed. Cast members are getting better at the kazoo solo. Rob isn’t happy about it. “This isn’t as fun when you guys are gooood.” 

Questions? Comments? Anything? If you’re at the con, come find me and say hi! I’ll be in (or around) seat D25! :) 

TOMORROW I MEET JARED AND JENSEN Y’ALL THIS IS ITTTTT. *quietly crying bc tomorrow is the end*

*falls into bed and immediately starts snoring* P.S. Cons are exhausting in the best possible way.

#Taylor Takes PittCon #PittCon #PittCon 2017 #Supernatural PittCon #Supernatural Pittsburgh #SPNPitt #Pittsburg-HA