#SOPPY!!!!!!!!!! LOSER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[saturdays--sun]

inigo really heard me say i'm into soppy and pathetic pretty playboys and went, "ah, finally. my time to shine."

[tolucacake]

[anunfortunatekinlist]

To write you heart.

There are notebooks full, full of notes doodles recipes, poems; illustrations of love, ink soaked pages full of admiration. Small ink platter where Remus had pressed too hard on the quill, small in smudges where he’d dragged the sleeve of his robe over a particularly detailed sketch of Sirius in his casual clothes, a small section in the back of the book, full of pressed daisies from the daisy chain Sirius and James had made in the spring.

The notebook was soaked to the brim with Remus’s admiration, love and unrequited devotion to Sirius, a part of his heat that he allowed to be shown through intricate strokes of his quill, the script of his heart melted into the page.

And it was missing, it was not in his book bag? where he always kept it, he couldn’t find it anywhere. His heart was beating out of his chest, it was dangerous in anyone else’s hands, all his devotion was spilled into the pages and it threatened to ooze into the gossip-filled halls of Hogwarts.

He retraced his steps, carefully looking over the library and the Great Hall, seeing if he could see it on a table, or in someone’s hands.

He searched for what felt like eons for the secret part of his heart, until he finally decided to retire to bed, hoping to find the notebook tomorrow in one of his classes.

As he opens the door to the dorm, to only see Sirius, and the notebook.

[cloudbends]

Also I can't believe I'm saying this about a persona 5 spinoff but p5t is actually... Surprisingly good? The character dynamics within the phantom thieves are much more fleshed out (which is something I always took issue with in the original game), the character screentime is a lot more balanced and mostly no flanderisation (aka yusuke gets to Do Things for once, makoto gets to Not Do Everything thank god, morgana is the most likeable he's ever been to me), the new characters are incredibly fun and executed very well especially for spinoff-only characters, the plot concepts are interesting, the sprites are very fun and expressive, like. idk I just didn't expect it to make up for some of my issues with the main game tbh!! a pleasant surprise for sure

[kogglyuffs]

soppy ahh fucking loser writting in his loser diary

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 5

series masterlist | prev part | next part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 192,306 others

yourusername 🇬🇧⏭️🇸🇬

👤 tagged landonorris

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user3 bestie is travelling the world a lot with him huh

user5 and they still deny they’re dating

landonorris 🧡

liked by yourusername

texts with lily ੈ✩‧₊˚

lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by danielricciardo and 90,361 others

lando.jpg exploring singapore

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user4 WHAT THE FUCK MISS Y/N. THAT IS ILLEGAL

user5 so glad i’m not the only one freaking out over that secOND PHOTO

user7 SHE. SHES. MY GOD.

user9 does she not have the olympics or something to train for🙄

daniel.jpg is this why you’ve been hiding from me

yourusername ur not the favourite anymore

mclaren posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by scuderiaferrari, your username and 120,417 others

mclaren P2 IN SINGAPORE AND CARLANDO PODIUM?! WHAT A RACE!

👤 tagged landonorris, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari

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user5 CARLANDOOOO😭😭😭😭

user2 TEARS IN MY EYES

user7 FOREVER OUR MCLAREN BOYS (oscar we love u as well)

yourusername someone raced well huh

mclaren we heard it had something to do with a certain incentive👀

user6 whAT IS GOING ON

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 250,710 others

landonorris an insane weekend. and this time i took away two trophies🧡

👤tagged carlossainz55, yourusername

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user3 huh

user7 i am. is this confirmation? i don’t understand

yourusername baby u are so cute but the caption makes me seem like a trophy wife😭

user5 SO THEY. THEY ARE ?????

user8 CARLANDO PODIUM AND Y/NANDO DATING??? WHAT IS HAPPENING TODAY

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yourusername told him if he got podium i’d be his girlfriend. guess i’m a pretty proud girlfriend right about now🧡

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user5 OH MY GOD THAT WAS THE INCENTIVE

user1 ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

lilymhe ‘i don’t have time for a relationship’ - you in my messages a month ago

yourusername LEAVE ME ALONE SHDJJSJS

landonorris 🫣

user13 going to cry there’s a new mom and dad on the grid!

alex_albon so i’ve been forgotten

oscarpiastri @/landonorris you can stop pining in my dms now

landonorris PLEASE SHUT UP

yourusername IM OMW TO UR HOTEL ROOM SHOW ME RN.

landonorris made me wait long enough but you’re worth a thousand years of waiting

user7 oh he’s WHIPPED

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liked by yourusername, flo_norris_showjumping and 108,333 others

lando.jpg you’ve been my favourite view for a while, but i’m glad i get to share it now. let’s go get you a medal baby🧡

view all 10,926 comments

user9 🙄

user3 HOPE UR CRYING RN

user6 LOLLLLL

user2 y’all are so sickeningly sweet and i love it

flo_norris_showjumping glad you got your shit together bro🩷

user7 MY FAVES ANDBWHXJSJSJ

user1 crying. sobbing. shaking. tears are flowing

yourusername 🩷 i adore you so bad

daniel.jpg you’re still a loser but i’m happy for you

taglist: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101

a/n: i know it seems like the end but it’s NOT i have a little more planned so hold on <<33 just some soppy relationship stuff really

taglist found here

- giselle xx

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

potato is love, potato is life- local hell woman gives potato to her angelic future wife

Charlie: “I don’t think I should be allowed to interact with women ever again.”

Husk: “Is this about Vaggie giggling over a fucking potato earlier-”

Charlie: “OH IT’S ABOUT THE POTATO ALL RIGHT! WHY THE FUCK DOES THE PHRASE ‘apple of my eye’ EVEN EXIST IN THE SAME UNIVERSE WHERE ‘earth apple’ IS ANOTHER WORD FOR POTATO??? WHY DO PEOPLE CALL THE STUPID SPROUTY THINGS ON POTATOES ‘eyes’????? CREATION IS STUPID! IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!!”

Husk: “Did you fucking give her the potato.”

Charlie: (slumping) “I was trying to be romantic-!”

Husk: “Did you call HER your potato.”

Charlie: “THE POTATO OF MY HEART! The tuber of my root sprout!”

Husk: “Oh fuck. Shit, that’s. That’s terrible. You really shouldn’t fucking talk to women anymore.”

Charlie: (sobbing) “I WAS TRYING!!! TO BE SWEET!!!!!”

Angel Dust: “-hey gays m’kay, real fucked up question for ya both but- anyone know why Vag G-string is makin’ soppy doe eyes at an uncooked tater tot?”

Husk: “It’s because she’s almost as much of fucking fail loser as her girlfriend, is why.”

Charlie: (sniffs) “She. You think she likes it…?”

Angel Dust: “Charlie chip, she’s starin’ at the damn thing like it’s her first born child.”

Charlie: “Oh…”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “Unholy shit…. I am so GOOD with women-”

Husk: “No. No you’re fucking not. It’s just her.”

Charlie: “Well she’s the only one who counts so that’s perfect!”

Angel Dust: “Oh please don’ tell me you gave her the potato-”

Charlie: “BE RIGHT BACK IM GONNA GO GET HER ANOTHER ONE!!!”

Husk: “NO-!”

[lipglossanon]

With Your Hands Between Your Thighs And A Smile

˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅

(Title from the song lyrics 505 by Arctic Monkeys)

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, stepcest, slight breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, stepbro!kurt, fem!reader, slight perv!reader

Quick author’s note: if the thought that Kurt seems OOC crosses your mind just know I don’t care lol. Enjoy!

More stepbro!kurt found here

/ ˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅˅ɞ♡⃛ʚ˅ \

The house is quiet after your mom and step dad loudly declared they were heading out for their monthly date night. You only wave goodbye as you continue to channel surf.

Kurt, your brand new step brother, sat slouched on the other end of the sofa. You gave a quick glance to him and saw he was completely zoned into his phone. He frowned down at the device before locking it with a sigh.

“The b-battery on this is shit,” he mutters out loud, turning his attention to the tv.

You hum in agreement, as you now openly look at him. You kinda hated how much you liked him. He was such a loser but weirdly sweet. He has been nothing but nice to you and your mom—really trying to make you both feel welcomed (although you could tell he and his dad had a strained relationship).

After he got over the fact you didn’t do social media (his exclamation of “how will people even know who you are?!” was met with an eye roll and a laugh, “I’ll introduce myself to them, Kurt”), you and he got along really well. The fact you wanted to fuck his brains out, however, is something you’ve been keeping pretty close to the chest.

You’ve had to live together for the past few months now since the actual marriage ceremony and you feel like you’re about to crawl out of your skin with want. Kurt is so cringe and clingy, but somehow that seems to really work for him. It hasn’t stopped you from fantasizing of riding him in the back of his car or think about sneaking into his room at night to slip under his covers for a bit of fun.

And now, here you both were at home on a Friday night with your respective parents gone until the wee hours of the morning. You bite your thumbnail as a half formed idea flitted through your brain. You bring your attention back to the tv and begin to purposefully search through the channels for a borderline porno type of movie. Once settling on one, you press your back to the armrest so your body is facing out toward Kurt.

It takes a few scenes before it seems to click with him, which by that time you already have your shorts tugged down as you slowly tease your slit through the gusset of your panties.

“W-what’re you doing?” he whispers, like he’ll get in trouble (god he’s so clueless it makes you want him even more).

“Just trynna have a bit of fun, Kurtie.”

His jaw clenches but his eyes stay on the motions of your hand as you slowly tease yourself. You give him a coy smile.

“You can’t touch me but if you want to jerk off, I wouldn’t mind.”

He sucks in a deep breath and you watch as his dick thickens in his sweatpants. You moan and shuck your shorts and panties all the way off, leaving your cunt bare to his gaze. You then strip off the skimpy tank top you were wearing with nothing underneath leaving your tits completely uncovered.

Kurt’s eyes greedily take you in, bouncing from your hardening nipples down to your dripping pussy.

Your fingers dip back down your body to circle your sensitive and swollen clit. You let out a low whine as a gush of slick coats your inner thighs.

Kurt’s dark eyes sweep over your body, back up to your own heavy lidded gaze.

“You’re so hot,” he breathes out quietly, his own hand squeezing at the bulge in his sweatpants.

You bite your lip to hold back another whine.

“Wanna touch you, Kurtie”

“I-I want to touch you too, but we can’t,” his brows furrow, “we shouldn’t even be d-doing this.”

You sigh out a moan, “I know. It’s really dirty.”

You slip your fingers through your slick folds and sink your ring and middle finger into your soppy wet hole.

“Wish it was your fingers, Kurt. Your hands are so big.”

You watch as he slips the band of his sweats down to his thighs. His cock springs up with a wet slap to his belly.

“Fuck,” you moan, “want you in my pussy so bad.”

“You can’t say that,” he pants, hand slowly beginning to stroke his cock in time with your thrusting fingers.

You pout, “Why not? It’s only the truth.”

“C-cause,” his eyes dart to the door, “we’re step siblings now. What we’re doing is bad.”

You hum, “Mmhmm so bad.”

You slowly ease your fingers out of your clenching heat and crawl over to Kurt’s side of the couch.

He stops stroking his dick to press his hands into your shoulders to stop you moving into his lap.

“W-what’re you doing? You said no touching,” his eyes are glued to your swaying breasts and bare cunt.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur and push against his hold to slip into his lap. You both let out low moans at the feel of his hard cock rubbing against your wet pussy. He kicks off his sweatpants the rest of the way leaving you both now nude.

“We just won’t put it in,” you whisper against his lips, “it’s not wrong if you just don’t slip it in my needy little hole, right Kurtie?”

Your lips drag against his with every sinful word from your mouth. His pupils are completely blown out when you pull back to run your hands down his chest.

“Take this off for me, please?”

He scrambles to quickly remove his shirt, only to get tangled in it before ripping it off and throwing it down on the floor.

You bite your lip as you card your fingers through the light smattering of his chest hair.

“God Kurt, you’re so hot it’s stupid.”

“Y-yeah?” He watches you completely dazed, hands loosely holding your hips like he doesn’t know where to put them.

“Mmhmm, wanted to suck you off the first time we met,” you suck your bottom lip into your mouth as you move your gaze from his chest to his eyes, “wanted to cry and choke on your cock while our parents were having their stupid dinner date in the other room.”

“Fuck.”

His hips thrusted up, dragging his cock up against your clit making your hole clench on nothing. His hands slowly come up and cup each breast. His thumbs begin to softly circle your nipples.

You mewl, arching your back so it pushes your breasts further into Kurt’s space. His lips are parted in awe as he takes your nipples in between his fingertips and tweak the hardened buds.

You couldn’t stop the wanton sounds from tumbling out of your panting mouth.

“So sensitive,” Kurt whispered to himself, ducking his head down to suck on your nipples constantly swapping from one to the other.

“I love your tits, you’re a-always wearing such low tops, and—” he grinds his cock up against your thighs, smearing precum along your skin.

Your hands slide up from his chest to cradle his jaw. You watch him pout as you pull him away from your breasts. Your hands slink down his body to tease the thatch of hair above his dick. His hands go down to your hips, massaging and groping the fat there.

“Maybe,” your gaze drifts down to his swollen, leaking cock. You softly tease the tip before pressing his foreskin back to circle the head.

“Maybe you could just put the tip in,” you say, still dragging your fingers against his pink cockhead.

“Wha—“ he moans, eyes clenched shut and the grip on your hips bruising. You hope there are fingertip shaped marks tomorrow.

“Just the tip isn’t going all the way, is it?” You coo at him, fingers slipping away from the head of his dick down his shaft to feather across his balls.

“Fuck,” he moans, his head dropping forward into the junction of your neck and shoulder, his eyes taking in your hands teasing his balls.

“Just t-the tip, nothing else?” He finally gets out, pulling away to look you in the face.

You smile wickedly, “Exactly, Kurt. It’s gonna feel so good.”

He groans, “Alright, but just the tip. We can’t do a-anything else.”

“Of course, Kurtie,” you press a quick kiss to the apples of his cheeks. “Now, put it in me, please.”

“You want me— oh, fuck. Okay, okay,” he’s mumbling to himself as he slips the tip of his dick into your wet spasming hole.

“Yes, so good. Such a good boy for me. S’just the tip Kurtie, promise won’t go any further.”

His hands are gripping the fat of your thighs like a lifeline, head tossed back in an effort to keep still.

“You’re so fucking tight, god I can’t—“ he chokes out, bringing his blown out gaze to your own.

“You’re just too good at stretching me out, Kurt,” you whine, pressing closer to him, dragging your lips across his in an almost kiss.

“Fuck me, y-you can’t just say s-sh-stuff like that.”

But you’re so desperate at this point and not able to think past the feeling of the slight stretch of your pussy and how empty it feels. Whining you work his cock further and further into your body as Kurt just holds your thighs in a death grip.

He’s mumbling out, “Stop, baby, f-fuck. Can’t keep going— you’re gonna— shit your so tight, gotta stop before we go too far.”

He groans until you’re sitting flushed against his pelvis.

You lift you up just to slide back down, enjoying just how big and thick he is inside you.

“Couldn’t wait, Kurtie,” you sigh out, eyes slipping shut and cunt stuffed full.

Your eyes flutter back open only to see Kurt’s lips pressed in a thin line and eyes dark.

He lifts you up until he’s nearly slipping out before slamming you back down, a choked cry leaving you.

“You promised you wouldn’t go too far.”

He repeats the rough thrust and now makes you grind down as his dick stretches out your weeping cunt.

“But you just had to do what you wanted, huh? Needed me to plug up your s-sloppy little pussy? Telling me how nasty of a, a girl you are.”

He doesn’t pull out as he shifts you both to lay out on the couch. You cry out as he begins deep harsh thrusts, so thankful you’re the only two home as Kurt rails you into the beat up couch.

“Nothing but a cock slut,” he growls in your ear, “only good for letting me use your tight hole.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, nails digging into Kurt’s broad shoulders, “need it, need you.”

“I’m not gonna last too long,” Kurt grits out.

“Mmm, you gonna cum in me? Going to fill me up?” You gasp out, feeling as Kurt thrusts into you even harder.

“Y-Yeah I am. I’m going to fill that p-pretty pink pussy to the brim and you’re going to love every s-second of it aren’t you?” He pumps his hips faster, feeling your cunt tighten around him.

“Mmm yes, please,” you moan, dragging your nails across Kurt’s back.

Kurt begins to grind down with every thrust of his hips, making you take him as deep as possible.

“Fuck, I-“ Kurt realizes much too late and is now trying to slow his thrusts, feeling closer and closer to spilling inside you.

“I’m n-not wearing a condom.”

His eyes finally drag up from watching his cock piston in and out of your clenching heat. His brows are furrowed in a mix of worry and pleasure.

You moan at the distraught tone and worried gaze, walls clenching around the thick cock splitting you open. You lift your head up to nip at his earlobe, tongue darting out to smooth the sting.

“Doesn’t it feel good though?” You murmur in his ear, “feel how wet and tight my pussy is? You know you want to give it to me. Watch as your cum drips out, leave my hole a sticky mess.”

He moans out while his hips pump faster.

“That’s it, Kurtie,” you purr, eyes glinting in pleasure, “give it to me. Make me cum on your fat cock and I’ll let you cream this pretty pussy.”

Kurt groans and begins to thrust sloppily with abandon. His hips are now rabbiting into your squelching cunt. The couch creaks as you’re filled again and again, your g-spot battered with each thrust that has your toes curling in pleasure.

You let out a breathy moan, “Oh, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

Kurt clumsily slips a hand between you two and starts rubbing at your clit a little too roughly but eager to please; his inexperience is doing it for you though. Your orgasm crashes over you. Your clit throbs as your pussy walls clench rhythmically around the cock filling you causing Kurt to reach his peak as well.

His thrusts stutter into your pliant body as rope after rope of hot cum fills your spasming cunt. You feel his cock throb and kick inside you as your hole keeps milking him for every last drop of cum. He lets out a low moan as he continues to finish inside you.

“There’s so much,” you gasp out, loving the feeling of being pumped so full of Kurt’s hot cum.

“Y-yeah I always—there’s always a lot to clean up,” he blushes so hard the tips of his ears turn pink.

You hum a happy sound as your drag your nails through his messy hair, “I like it, Kurt.”

He looks at you with the most lovesick expression you’ve ever seen before shaking his head.

“This is—we shouldn’t have—“

You lean up and catch him unawares as you kiss him breathless. Kurt’s eyes widen in surprise but lets himself sink down into your body, kissing you back.

Pulling away you give a soft bite to his full lower lip.

“I wanted it, Kurt. And from the feel of it you did too,” you grin up at his flushed expression, “plus it’s pretty hot to get creampied.”

You felt his cock kick inside your well used pussy.

“Wanna go again?”

[bludino]

My headcanons of the gangs genders/sexualities

I am mentally ill I refuse to stay silent any longer

#1 Pomni- Bi

Pomni is a depressed, anxious little cat who keeps getting soggy despite her best attempts to get dry. She's so sad and keeps getting knocked down and that feels like the bisexuals I know and love. She probably smokes cigarettes with shaky hands and stares at the wall in the shower. Such a little loser who probably bites. Love her.

#2 Ragatha- trans and lesbian

Lesbians love sewing!! I thought I was a lesbian and I sewed then!! In honesty I made Ragatha a lesbian bc I can't stand ragatha x Jax I have to stop it at all costs I'm sorry. I feel like she's an elder gay she has such a maternal energy to her. Pomni loves it Ragatha gets the blow dryer when she gets soppy again. Also my impulses are to make every character transgender and same sex attracted.

#3 Jax- trans and gay

I made him gay so I can have him all to myself. Half jk he's my favorite character so I projected the shit outta him. He's gay and trans because he's got that t-boy swagger and I wish it so.

#4 Gangle- ace/aro

This one is also projecting. I just think it's funny if Zooble reads through Gangle's 200,000 word novel and they ask her "You're are/ace why are you even into this" and Gangle just shrugs. I think she has a shirt of the contemplative wolf and loves it unironically.

#5 Zooble- genderfluid, pansexual & ace

Bold to assume Zooble gives a fuck. They feel what they feel when they feel it, a real go with the flow thing. Zooble and Gangle are best friends, they smoke and listen to queen on the grammaphone Zooble has bc they're cool and vintage like that. I fucking love Zooble they're unbothered, moisturized as they can be in a circus hell scape and satisfied.

#6 Kinger- trans and bi

What a crazed man. Look at him. He's definitely sexually experimented with men before he met his wife but never realized it had a label until Pomni told him. What a wife guy you know Queenie was his whole world he loved her so much. It was breakfast in bed for her everyday. He can't cook though so it's probably fruit loops and frozen waffles. He probably has a homoerotic relationship with Caine where they're both oblivious to how they sound to other people. He's just trans he's always known that. He has chest scars. Don't think of the implications.

# 7 Caine- fuck if I know

Maybe he's gay. Idk. He really likes Kinger though in some aspect he's into men. He's not supposed to have favorites but he does. He does little things for every character but he likes Kinger wayyyy more.

[enbysiriusblack]

marauder characters who are absolute losers because there is such a coolification of characters that i kinda hate:

remus lupin (soppy wet man <3 trips over himself at the mere mention of sirius. has named every single sheep on the field next to his home. the tweed and elbow patch and ugly knitted sweater wearer ever)

regulus black (has yet to realise rules are actually breakable. the library is his favourite place. makes lists for every single little thing and neatly organises them in folders and binders. is never not thinking about classical pianists or true crime)

marlene mckinnon (has absolutely no filter or understanding in how to interact with other people. will ramble about a type of broomstick used in a quidditch game in 1463 for 5 hours. the most jealous and competitive person you will ever meet)

barty crouch jr (cares about his academics more than life itself. mummy's boy. panics over his exams. has yet to meet a bug and not classify it and jot info about it in his little bug book)

lily evans (the rare popular loser. avidly interested in most of her classes to the point she'll stay behind after class just to talk about the material with the teacher for fun. accidental teacher's pet. watched star wars more than ten times. read the hobbit more than twenty times)

peter pettigrew (he wouldn't be seen as a loser now, but def was in the 70s. obsessed with crystals and random stones. chess club captain. reads every superman comic. the dyslexia is strong with this one (i just wanted to make a star wars joke, his dyslexia doesn't really have anything to do with him being a loser, although some classmates would make fun of his struggling when reading and spelling)

[saturdays--sun]

modern au inigo hasn't experienced the same Horrors that canon inigo has, which means he hasn't been desensitized to things that would otherwise be really scary. so he's just a little bit of a scaredy cat. just a bit. this never really comes up, though, because he doesn't really interact with scary stuff, if not because of that, then because he's just not really into it.

the Problem arises, however, when he starts dating me (resident Weirdo Little Goth that loves horror, actually) because he wants to do Everything Ever with me. doesn't play a whole lot of video games, but always wants to hang out with me when i do — insists, actually, because what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't? except now he's trapped watching his Tiny and Cute girlfriend kill hordes of zombies without batting an eye. he can barely look at the screen. why does she enjoy this. is it too late to ask to just. kiss. or something.

[vctrvn-ls]

An Effort at Romance ☕️ | Kenny | ☕️

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

warnings: language

wordcount: 1.3k

summary: a little short in which you tried to do a small romantic gesture that ended up flopping because of the weather

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

It was a cold summer day in London.

About 15 degrees (celsius), but that's besides the point. The point was that you were standing at the bus stop, drenched and shivering.

There really was no point in standing under the bus shelter because you were already dripping wet, soaking, you swore you heard your socks squealching every time you moved your toes.

Anyway, why were you standing wet next to a bus stop and not dry inside an Uber?

Romance.

If you could call it that, more like failed romance, or an effort at it.

What you wanted to do was meet up with your boyfriend after work. His boxing gym was as he said "A ten minute walk down the street," which it wasn't. You ended up getting lost and as you picked up your phone it died right in your hands (tragic).

To make things worse it had started raining and now the only way to get home was by public transport.

Your mood was ruined. You felt angry, embarrassed and like a total loser, and you knew Kenny would laugh in your face for hours after finding out the whole story, he knew you hated the soppy lovebird things that would usually bring smiles to other couples when the gestures were done.

You were just a little…different (is what he guessed)

Fast forward two hours, it was 11:40pm and you were finally in the front yard of your house, walking down the little paved path that had streams of water running on it.

It was still raining, only now the wind was blowing like crazy. You saw that the lights in the living room as you struggled to open the door with slippery hands.

As the lock clicked you sighed and opened the door, stumbling in and closing it behind you.

You were so busy looking down at the puddle that you were creating under your feet, that you hadn't even noticed Kenny's presence.

You put your bag down and looked up "Oh my god!" You jolted, caught off guard by his appearance.

"Where the hell were you?" He walked over, pulling you into a rather aggressive hug. You furrowed your eyebrows, slowly putting your wet hands onto his back while listening to him talk behind you.

"I called you like a hundred times! I called your friends from work, even your boss!" He pulled away, revealing his worried expression, eyebrows knitted as he fixed his glasses like the adorable nerd he was.

"I-I-uuuhhh." You didn't know what to say. You were stunned by Kenny's reaction, you definitely weren't expecting him to worry out of all things.

"You're all wet now." You pointed to his grey sweater that now had and imprint of you.

"I don't care, where were you? I swear to god I almost lost my mind a-and the scary thing was that I didn't even know where to go to find you."

"Long story." You simply stated, giving him a crooked smile. Kenny rolled his eyes before hugging you again "Idiot." He mumbled.

You smiled to yourself, rubbing his back.

"You better tell me everything after you shower." He let you go.

"Yeah, yeah ok. You could…just join me." You grin suggestively, taking his hand.

"No." He said unenthusiastically.

"Wow that must've really fucked up your mind." You groaned, annoyed, before kicking off your shoes.

"I'm gonna make you something warm to drink before you get sick." He helped you take off your coat and blazer.

"Fine, fine. Throw these in the washing too."

He watched you slip out of your skirt and blouse right in front of him.

"Change your mind about the shower yet?" You smirked, seeing his eyes glued onto you.

"No." He took a sharp breathe in, fighting himself as he blinked and tore his eyes off of you, heading for the laundry.

"Hey Kenny I hope you don't mind me stealing your clothes," you say as you jog down the stairs and pull on his black Champion sweatshirt.

"No." You hear him call out from the kitchen as you hopped onto the couch "Wait which one?"

"Uuhhhh black crewneck." You respond, reaching for the remote.

"Yeah whatever." He walks in, and hands you a cup of tea.

"Ah," you take it "Thank you. How very British of you." You take a sip, noticing that he had changed too. "Did you load the laundry?" You ask.

"Yeah." He replies, not so confidently.

"Are you sure?"

He nods "So," he shuffles in his position, facing you "Tell me where you've been while I was here shitting bricks." He takes off his glasses and puts them down.

You chuckle "First of all that was very old-man of you."

"What?"

"Taking your glasses off like that, and second of all promise not to laugh and call me an idiot?"

"Uuhhh, yes?"

"Alright, so-"

Five minutes later the house rung with laughter as Kenny rolled around the couch holding onto his sides and howling.

You stared at him with an unamused expression painted on your face, remembering that he promised not to laugh.

Well at least he didn't call you an idiot.

"YOU IDIOT!" He yelped taking a breathe in.

Well there went the other promise.

"Oh fuck you." You crossed your eyebrows and turned to face the tv, folding your arms.

He wheezed beside you, holding on for dear life "I-I'm sorry," he covered his face "No it was really sweet of you." He moved over to you and engulfed you in a hug, tipping you over to the side.

"KEN!" You barked as you felt him falling backwards, with his arms still around you. You fell right onto him while he kept on laughing.

You were scared you had split his ribcage with your shoulder, but clearly he was fine.

"You idiot." He repeated, giving you a tight squeeze "But that was very sweet of you." He kissed your cheek.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You shook your head.

"What? You mad at me now?"

You didn't reply.

"Hm?" He gave you another smooch "Are you?" And another one "Babyyy," and one more.

You giggled as he sprinkled your face with kisses while you tried to wriggle out of his embrace.

"Ok, ok, ok," you panted "Stop, stop." He finally let you go and you sat up, fixing your damp hair and rolling your eyes as you noticed him staring at you.

"I love youuu," he sang.

You nodded "Uhuh."

"You have to say it back. The rules of this household." He stated making you chuckle.

"Oh well if it's the rules," you grin "I love you too."

He smiled, nodding in acceptance.

"So what do you wanna watch?" You turned to Kenny as the Netflix logo popped up on the screen.

“I don’t know. I’m kinda tired,” he shrugs.

“Tsk,” you tut, turning off the tv.

“Wha-I mean you can still watch something.”

“Nah but like,” you look up in a shy manner “I wanna spend time with you.”

Kenny genuinely smiles, tilting his head and feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. Even if your efforts at a romantic gesture failed, he still felt wanted around you, despite you pretending to be all prickly.

“Cmere,” he spreads his arms out and you suppress a smile as you shuffle over to him, laying your back on his chest as he curls his arms around you from behind.

“How’d training go?” You look up.

He nods “Good.”

“Did you eat anything?”

He shook his head “You know I don’t eat after.”

You frown “So confusing, first you eat a lot then you don’t eat at all. You’re getting thinner by the day.”

He chuckled “You sound like mum.”

“Yeah cause she’s right!”

“Ok, ok. It’s complicated. There’s a period where I need to eat a lot and a period where I should be careful of what I’m eating. Doesn’t mean I don’t .”He says as a matter-of-fact-ly.

“Can’t wait for that to be over.”

“What? Whyyy? I look great.” He laughs.

“We can’t eat out, you’re always tired and sometimes your mood is so shit I’m scared to even talk to you.” You make a very valid point.

“Uuuhhh,” Kenny had no arguments against your statement.

“Exactly. Besides you know you always look good.”

He smiles, but sighs, laying his cheek on the top of your head.

“You gonna sleep right here?” You joke.

“Yeah maybe.” He grins.

“Oh, Ken.” You shake your head.

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Natural Satellite [ch 6]

An In Stars and Time AU. In chapter six, the gang faces the King. (Spoiler warning thru Act 4)

It’s been a while since you actually fought the King. Why bother? It’s not like there’s anything waiting on the other side. Just a soppy little coda that doesn’t even resolve anything. No closure. No catharsis. No point. But Isa insisted, about the dagger. He practically begged you. If you go back on your word now, he’ll probably get a lot less cooperative. Which would be inconvenient. And you can’t think of any other way to skip the fight without letting the King kill everyone. (You could bear it, when they wouldn’t remember. But you can’t do it anymore. Not to Isa.) (It hurts to die.) The King is moaning again, whining about his stupid embarrassing ambitions. Ooohh, maybe the real victim is me actually! Maybe you guys should just lay down and die! It might have a little more appeal as a musical number. Give the fight a little razzle-dazzle. But it isn’t. It’s just a huge loser, crying. You zone out.

Watching Siffrin sleep makes Isa’s chest clench. Sif was always a tiny little guy, but they look even smaller in sleep. Hat off, guard down. Hugging their knees to their chest like they’re trying to disappear completely. They might even look peaceful, if not for the dark circles hollowing their eyes. And for the way they keep twitching and flinching, like even their dreams aren’t safe.

Sif circled the tree six times before choosing their spot, fastidious as a housecat. If Isa wasn’t totally spineless, he might have asked if they wanted to rest their head in his lap. N-Not because he wanted them to!!! Or… well. Not exclusively. Mostly it was just because Sif looked so tired. Like it’d been a million years since they last got a sound night’s sleep. And also because it kinda made Isabeau want to cry, watching Sif look around warily before laying his head down on a tree root.

It probably wouldn’t offend them just to ask. Just a simple, Hey, Sif? You look pretty uncomfortable… and I’m just sitting here, so… it really wouldn’t get in my way if you—if you wanted—if you might be more comfortable resting your head on something a little less, um, made of wood? Like, I dunno… a chunk of moss, or a stack of leaves, or... or even j-just my…

But—nope! Haha! Nnnnope!! There’s no point, anyway. Sif would just say no, and then Isa would have to sit here, watching them, knowing that they’d rather stretch out on a bed of nails than entrust their sleep to him.

It’s probably for the best. Being Sif’s pillow would be distracting. (Like, really really really distracting.) And Isa’s got enough on his mind as it is.

If the time loops aren’t a divine blessing to help Mira beat the King, then what are they for? They must be related to Sif, or else he wouldn’t have been stuck here all alone for all this time. But then why would that change now? Why would it happen in the first place?

There’s a stifled squeak. Siffrin, whimpering in his sleep.

Isa’s palms itch. Of course he knows better than to wake Sif up. At this point, it seems pretty clear that restless sleep is still miles better than no sleep at all. Still, he can’t suppress the instinct to reach out, to pet and fuss and soothe. And… maybe Sif wouldn’t mind?

But he’s kidding himself. He already saw how Sif reacted when he tried. Siffrin is quicker and sharper than anyone, but when Isa reached out, they froze like a rabbit. Paralyzed. Afraid.

…Isa did that. He did that to them.

“Stop,” Isabeau whispers to himself, out loud. He needs to focus. Sif just gave him a lot to think about, and his notes won’t stick around for long. He has all these scattered shards, twisty little splinters of a larger picture that must exist. But it feels like all he’s got are edge pieces. Like he’s still missing something central, fundamental.

He just needs a little more data.

* * *

Sure enough, that article is right where Isabeau remembered: tacked to the wall on the first floor, surrounded by hand-drawn sketches and still-lifes.

None of the articles include anything particularly helpful (e.g., say, a list of weaknesses, or an explanation of how the King’s power actually works). Mostly it’s just about how he showed up out of nowhere, and how nobody really knows where he came from. But they do have plenty to say about his fashion sense.

Siffrin frowns at the photo. “Those patterns…”

"On his chest and gauntlets, you mean?" Isa asks, curious. They're not particularly eye-catching. Just a bunch of big diamonds.

"It's just a weird losange," Bonnie huffs. They’ve never had much interest in fashion. "What's so weird about that?

Siffrin just shakes their head. “Those are stars.”

* * *

Sif moves differently now. Isa couldn’t tell back in Dormont, but in the House, it’s unmistakable There’s a leonine grace; a predatory gleam. Sif weaves through the halls like a shark that’s scented blood. Cold, efficient. Utterly without fear. When they sense him, the Sadnesses scatter like minnows. They cower in corners and blunder into walls, blind in their terror.

He doesn’t slow down until they get to the library, where they hesitate in front of one of the shelves, running a finger down the sparkly, rhinestone-studded spine of a book. They don’t open it. But they don’t have to. Isa remembers this part. Mira read it to them just two loops ago. It was a diary, someone’s memory of the day that everyone forgot an entire country. Just thinking about trying to remember gives Isa the beginnings of a headache. And Sif—

Sif asked him to say it anyway.

They looked so serious. Desperate. Like they were hungry for something they couldn’t even name.

The picture tilts. A new variable, sliding into place.

…Oh, Isa thinks to himself. Okay. It’s starting to come together.

* * *

The King’s shadow darkens the entire House, but nowhere more than the third floor. His hair curls around every doorway like the twisting vines of some pallid, lightless plant that only grows deep underground. The air hums with Craft. It makes Isa’s skin prickle, makes the hair on his arms stand up straight. No matter where you go, you can always hear the clamor of the King’s sobs, a wrenching, discordant wail that sounds like it’s being wrung out of him with a wine key. It’s overpowering. Inescapable. Isa doesn’t scare easily—not in a fight, at least—and even he can feel the dread seeping into his blood. Some primal, animal corner of his brain is telling him to run. Run. Run. You’re in danger. You’re not a hunter here. You’re prey.

And just a few steps in front of him, Sif is leading the charge with an impatient little scowl. He looks distracted. Bored. Like they’re waiting in a too-long line at the market.

They know the way, too. Right turn, left turn, pick up the key and track back. A quick stop in Mira’s room, then north for another key. In the corner of his eye, Isa can see Madame Odile eyeing them suspiciously. Siffrin doesn’t seem to notice.

And then they’re at the King.

Isabeau promised not to get in the way this time, and he’s not about to break a promise. He keeps his mouth shut while Siffrin steps forward.

“Where are you from?”

The King looks straight at them. When he brushes his hair aside, Isa can see his eyes burn white. Silver-white, like Siffrin’s. “.....What about you, bright one..... Where are you from?”

Siffrin flinches.

The King laughs.

* * *

* * *

* * *

It’s been a while since you actually fought the King. Why bother? It’s not like there’s anything waiting on the other side. Just a soppy little coda that doesn’t resolve anything. No closure. No catharsis. No point. It doesn’t even tie up any loose ends. Isa’s stupid confession is foreshadowed for the whole script—now that you know what to look for, it’s honestly a little heavy-handed—and by the time the curtain falls, nothing has changed. Chekhov’s gun lies cold on the mantle. At a certain point, it’s just bad writing.

But Isa insisted, about the dagger. He practically begged you. If you go back on your word now, he’ll probably get a lot less cooperative. Which would be inconvenient. And you can’t think of any other way to skip the fight without letting the King kill everyone. (You could bear it, when they wouldn’t remember. But you can’t do it anymore. Not to Isa.)

(It hurts to die.)

The King is moaning again, whining about his stupid embarrassing ambitions. Ooohh, maybe the real victim is me actually! Maybe you guys should just lay down and die! It might have a little more appeal as a musical number. Give the fight a little razzle-dazzle. But it isn’t. It’s just a huge loser, crying.

You zone out.

* * *

You beat the King, obviously. It’s easy now. Buff. Attack. Block. Attack. Bomb. Attack. You’re never even in any real danger, so does it really have to take so long?

The others cheer, after you finish him off. You remember to cheer, too. In the corner of your eye, you can feel Isa’s gaze on you. You do not look back.

* * *

How many times have you been on this rooftop? Probably the number doesn’t matter. All that matters is that nothing ever worked, and nothing ever changed.

There’s too much in your head. You can feel thoughts ticking, tickling, prickling. Where the expanse of possibility should stretch endlessly into the horizon, there’s only history. Hindsight. Nowhere to go but back.

You look at Euphrasie.

Your whole nervous system clenches in on itself. Your blood cold and turgid; your windpipe crusted shut with blackened sugar. Your lips itch. Your throat burns. You Cannot Talk To Her Again.

Your hands twitch toward your dagger.

…But you promised.

“Isa,” you mumble, shuffling toward his corner of the rooftop. “Can I… talk to you?”

“Huh? Yeah, of course! Always!”

“No, I mean. Um. Alone?”

In the background, Odile whistles. You very graciously ignore her.

“Oh!” Isa squeaks. “Y-Yeah, I— Yeah, of course!”

You wonder idly whether he knows that you know what he wanted to tell you, back when that was still something he cared about. Probably he doesn’t. You have a history of obliviousness, apparently. But Isabeau does too.

It doesn’t matter. That’s not what you need to talk to him about.

* * *

You are keenly aware of your family’s eyes on you as Isabeau trails you down the steps and around the corner. You might feel embarrassed, if you didn’t know for a fact that this entire timeline was about to be wiped from existence.

“I can’t talk to her,” you announce, once you’ve decided that you’re out of range.

Isa blinks at you. “Um? To…”

“The Head Housemaiden.”

“...Huh?”

Oh. That’s right. You never explained this part. Probably because you didn’t want to be here. “You know how, even if we beat the King, I still loop back?”

Isa nods.

You nod at Euphrasie. “This is where it happens.”

“Wait, she—” Isabeau looks over his shoulder and then back, goggle-eyed. “Don’t tell me Mira’s mom kills us????”

You can’t suppress a snort. “Um. No. Not like that. I talk to her, and then it’s over.”

“Wa-a-ait,” Isa says slowly. “You mean… Do you mean without dying???”

You shrug.

“But… But wouldn’t that mean—”

“No.”

“But if we could loop back without—”

“No.” He doesn’t understand. Nothing hurts worse than talking to Euphrasie.

Isabeau hesitates. “But… But if she can—”

“I can’t talk to her again.” Just thinking about how hopeful you felt, the first few times—

But that was a long time ago.

Isabeau studies your face. You expect him to press you, but—he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says instead. He exhales slowly, brushes off his hands. “Okay! Then, um, what would you normally do here?”

For just a second, your eye flicks toward your dagger.

“Ah,” Isa says. “Okay, well. Thanks for… not doing that.” He takes a breath, lets it out. “So… what do you wanna do instead?”

“…You could stab me?”

“Sif.”

Yeah, you didn’t really think he was going to go for it. “I could jump off?” You’ve never tried that before. It might be nice to feel something new!

“No???”

You scowl at him. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“...You really can’t talk to her?”

You nod. You really really can’t.

“Could I talk to her?” he asks hopefully.

You shake your head. You know you’re being difficult, but—no. He can’t! And it wouldn’t work, probably, anyway. That’s not how it’s ever worked.

Isabeau heaves a breath. “Okay. Then we just… find another way, right?”

You shrug.

“But we couldn’t figure that out last time,” his eyes flicking toward your shoulder. “We’d have to try something… else, I guess. Um. Do you… have any ideas? About why it didn’t work, or… what we could try instead?”

You think about it. You liked feeling his hand on your shoulder, you think. You think you liked it. But your cloak is thick and sturdy. You could barely even feel him. “Maybe because I couldn’t feel it on my skin?”

“Oh,” Isa whispers. “Um. D-Do you think so?”

Another shrug. What do you know? The only time touch made you loop was—

(—shut up shut up THAT NEVER HAPPENED.)

Isabeau swallows. He wraps one hand around his arm, clutching tight enough to bunch the fabric of his sleeve. “Um…”

You huff a breath. “Sorry. Never mind. It was stupid.”

“N-No!! It’s not that!! It’s just that you’re… kinda all covered up? Except your—um.” He looks away. “Your… f-face.”

…Oh.

You shouldn’t think about it and you are thinking about it, now, irrevocably. Isa’s hand on your cheek. His very warm, very large hand, cradling the side of your face. Fingers brushing your cheekbone, your temple. If you asked him, with your face burning under his touch, to tell you what he’d promised to confess, would he finally do it?

But you can’t risk it. Not here, not now. There are no more second chances. Isabeau’s already trapped here with you. Haven’t you hurt him enough?

“...Sif?”

Carefully, you peel off your gloves.

“Ohh,” Isa breathes. “Are you… D-Did you wanna…”

“I want to stab myself,” you snap, before reining yourself in. “Sorry. No. I just mean, I don’t mind stabbing myself.” It doesn’t take too long, and it always works. And it’s… yours. Not just something happening to you. “But if you wanted to try something else…”

Isa’s hand flits closer. But he doesn’t grab yours. He just—holds it out to you, palm-up. There’s an appealing flush darkening his ears, sweat beading on his brow. It’s silly, really. There’s no reason to be nervous about something like you; something that’s not even a person. But he is. It’s… interesting.

You know that you should feel sorry. You know it should embarrass you. But there’s something appealing about seeing him like this. Disarmed, unarmored. Over-exposed as a shucked oyster. It makes you feel sort of… powerful.

(Disgusting.)

You meet him in the middle. Reach out and trace a line from the tip of his longest finger to the soft skin of his wrist, where his pulse thrums through it. You pretend not to notice the way that he shudders.

“Soft,” you mumble. You’d expected his hands to be tougher, scarred and callused like yours. Especially since he fights with his fists. But you were right about one thing. He is very, very warm.

“I.” His voice comes out choked and strangled. “—have a good skincare routine?”

You snort. The pad of your thumb circles his palm, just to make his breath hitch. You can feel his pulse quicken and that’s interesting, too, so you do it again before uncurling your hand and laying your palm flat against his.

Isa pulls in a shuddering breath. You can see him steeling himself, gathering his courage before he slots his fingers into the spaces between yours and then you’re—holding hands. You’re holding hands. It feels almost familiar. Has someone held your hand before? When you try to remember, the thought twists away.

“Um,” Isa says hoarsely. “So. D-Do you feel—um—loop-y?”

You think about it. “I think you’re being too careful.”

His eyes widen.

“I think it won’t work if you don’t surprise me,” you explain. “Like. Catch me off guard.”

“O-Oh,” he whispers. “Really?”

You nod.

You’re aware that you’re pushing him. Pushing his boundaries; shoving through his comfort zone and out the other side. But that’s because you don’t want to be here.

There’s a reason you stopped coming here. Started asking your questions and ending the loop, instead of beating the King at all. You’re tired of this. Tired of hearing the same fumbling aborted confession. Tired of watching Isa decide that maybe he’d rather not know you, after all. That he’d rather be safe than be yours.

You want to push him. You want to scare him, a little. Make him suffer, make him squirm. It’s only fair, isn’t it? He’s been toying with you for a hundred loops.

(...You’re disgusting.)

Isa scuffs his feet, shifts his weight. “Um. Um… Do you… have any ideas?”

You raise an eyebrow. “If I tell you, it’s not really a surprise, Isa.”

“Haha, yeah!!!!!! I guess you’re right!!!” He looks down at your joined hands and swallows. “And. And you’re sure we can’t just—“

You glare at him and he actually squeaks. It’s cute. No it isn’t, it’s cruel. You’re playing with him, like a kid pulling the wings off a butterfly. Sadistic.

“Okay, okay, okay. No Housemaiden. S-So it just has to be… something you’d never expect…” He falters. “…Promise you won’t get mad?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. It probably depends on what he does.

“Y-Yeah, of course. Of course. And you really won’t—um—I mean—because I could do all the talking…“

“She does all the talking.”

“Okay!!” he squeaks. “S-Sorry!! Then I’ll just—um. L-Let me just try…”

Tentative, slow, he wraps his fingers around your wrist. You have maybe half a second to process what’s happening before he raises your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your palm, right where it meets your wrist. Sparks under your skin. Lightning on your tongue. You’ve never been more aware of your own nerve endings.

You blink up at him, heat-dazzled, only to find his face burning. Eyes glossy with shame, and—something else. His gaze is locked on the place where he ends and you start but when he senses you staring he catches your eye and it’s— Oh, Stars. Oh, Change or Expressions or Gems, it’s— He’s so desperate. He’s so ashamed. He wants you so much.

(—Not you. Not you. He doesn’t want you, he wants the role you were playing. But it’s hard to remember when he’s so beautiful, and so close. And so hungry. You can see it in the ember of his eyes, burning for you. But he can’t, he shouldn’t, it’s wrong; you’re disgusting and wrong and you know but he’s—he’s looking at you like he can actually see you. Like he could see you and still want you.)

There’s a shift in his stance. Isa, tilting closer, squeezing his eyes shut. He draws your wrist toward his mouth and you realize with terror that he’s going to do it again—except that he can’t, because if he does it again, you can’t be sure what kind of sound you’ll make and the pressure building in your throat feels dangerously like a whimper, and—and if you whimper, then he’ll know; he’ll know that you—he’ll know that you—

[ f e e l   a   t u g   a t   y o ur   s t o m a c h ]

And you wake up in a field.

If you wanna get updates as soon as I post em, feel free to follow the series on ao3!

[witchhazelevesque]

Honestly though? Lester is the ideal man. And by that I mean a soppy little loser who’s not afraid to cry or admit when he’s wrong and who reflects on his mistakes and dedicates his life to being a better person.

[m0ther-fvcker]

I'm a pathetic loser

not in a misogynistic way

but in a sad, soppy guy lying in the rain way

I need someone to take me inside, wash me in bath, dry me off, and give me warm bowl of soup

[el-is-away]

this is my half harpy boy jayce... he is a soppy wet beast and everyone hates him and hes an idiot but i love him and his ex-shroom now stump boyfriend loves him too (they are both losers)